First DHB meeting jitters

Just like anyone feeling antsy about attending a large, unfamiliar event, I made sure I was there five minutes early

“Welcome, Maia Hall,” says Auckland DHB chair Pat Snedden.

I planned to quietly slink into the Zoom meeting to acclimatise myself before turning my camera on. No such luck – the chair was there, personally addressing me before most attendees had sat down to open their laptops.

Five minutes early to a Zoom meeting is, most definitely, five minutes too early.

I gather my thoughts, turn on my camera and mic and introduce myself as a new reporter for New Zealand Doctor Rata Aotearoa. Mr Snedden graciously welcomes me and asks me about another young new journalist from AUT whom I might know. The name doesn’t ring a bell, but his warmth makes me feel a little less like a second-week-on-the-job newbie.

About 25 more official-looking profiles stream in to join us, with a resounding “Kia ora”.

I spot some “she/her’s” in a few Zoom names and kick myself for not being organised with my own pronouns. I coyly add them, hoping no one picks up on the edit. As a cisgender queer woman, I know I can, and should, contribute to making spaces like these feel more welcoming and inclusive.

I silently thank the three or four others making the effort.

My next thanks go to the Zoom gods, for blessing us with the digital name-tag feature. Keeping track of all these unfamiliar faces is fairly manageable with everyone’s names spelled out in grid formation on my laptop screen.

DHB board member Douglas Armstrong, or Doug as his Zoom name suggests, asks if there are enough RATs available to go around our communities.

The answer is decidedly confirmed by chief executive Ailsa Claire – yes, there are plenty of RATs. Apparently, this isn’t the first time Doug has raised this lofty query. Board member Michael Quirke makes a good-natured quip about how Doug’s RAT questioning is one of the sparse “certainties in life”. The low chuckles that follow indicate Mr Armstrong is well known for his personal commitment to COVID-19 testing accessibility.

The public portion of the meeting lasted for over two hours, loosely following the enormous 112-page agenda supplied beforehand. I had my screen split, trying to keep track of who’s talking and tracking down where that topic was on the agenda. I kept looking at the one or two other journalists in the room, both with their cameras turned off. I wonder if DHB meetings are a regular occurrence for them, and what stories these old hands might emerge with.

Were there important decisions being made, in one of the final board meetings before DHBs disappear? There certainly was a lot of discussion, heightening into passionate spiels in particular moments of disagreement.

I suppose it was to be expected; one of the biggest DHBs in Aotearoa has a lot of people to represent.

My first DHB meeting, my most formal event as a journalist, was just like every Zoom meeting ever. Regardless of status, people will always spend 15 seconds struggling to share their screen, need a reminder to turn their mic on before speaking, or stare blankly before realising that indeed, that question was directed at them.

I avoided any of these minor public embarrassments, but I suspect I was one of the few attendees needing to dash out of the room to grab the charger for their dying laptop.