Brainstorming Is Just Group Procrastination

By Ken Hollow, unwilling participant in sticky-note theater

Brainstorming is the corporate equivalent of a séance: a bunch of people gather in a room, chant buzzwords, scribble nonsense, and pretend they’ve summoned something meaningful. Spoiler: they haven’t. At best, you get a whiteboard full of “innovative” ideas that will never be implemented. At worst, you lose three hours of your life you’ll never get back.

The Ritual of Brainstorming

Here’s how it goes every time:

1. The Setup: A facilitator hands out sticky notes like they’re dealing tarot cards. The markers never work. The coffee is gone in five minutes.
2. The Prompt: “No idea is a bad idea.” A lie. A bold, corporate lie.
3. The Chaos: People shout over each other. Someone suggests “gamification.” Another suggests “blockchain.” Someone else says “synergy” just to watch me die inside.
4. The Wall of Noise: The sticky notes multiply. None of them make sense. Someone writes “AI-powered culture” and nobody asks what it means.
5. The Graveyard: The whiteboard gets photographed, emailed to everyone, and then buried in a Google Drive folder no one will ever open again.

Congratulations. You’ve successfully wasted an afternoon.

The Sticky Note Illusion

Sticky notes are the sacred relics of brainstorming. Cover a wall with them, and suddenly it looks like progress. In reality, it’s just procrastination in pastel squares. A manager once proudly gestured at a wall of sticky notes and said, “This is innovation in action.” It was a list of hashtags.

Nana, of course, took it literally. During one brainstorming session, she plastered an entire wall with sigils and runes. The brand team called it “visionary.” I called it “a fire hazard.”

Blue-Sky Thinking (Or Cloudy With a Chance of Nonsense)

“Blue-sky thinking” is corporate code for “say whatever comes to mind, no matter how stupid.” It’s how you end up with gems like:

• “What if our app was also a lifestyle brand?”
• “Could we make engagement more engaging?”
• “Let’s leverage authenticity at scale.”

One exec once suggested “What if raccoons were brand ambassadors?” Nana nodded so hard the room shook. Now we have a raccoon in a branded hoodie. Thanks, Jeff.

Why We Keep Doing It

• Illusion of Inclusion: Everyone gets to contribute, even if their contribution is trash.
• Performance Theater: It feels like work without actually being work.
• Fear of Silence: Heaven forbid a meeting ends early. Better to scribble “AI-powered authenticity” on a wall than go back to real tasks.
• Executive Cover: If the project fails, they can point to the sticky notes and say, “We tried.”

Nana’s Version of Brainstorming

Nana insists brainstorming should involve actual storms. Last time, she scheduled a session during a thunderstorm, lit candles, and demanded everyone shout their ideas into the wind. The raccoons contributed more than the marketing interns. Their idea — “free snacks” — was the most actionable suggestion of the night.

Final Thoughts From the Whiteboard

Brainstorming isn’t innovation. It’s procrastination dressed up in Sharpie fumes. It’s how you trick yourself into thinking you’re solving problems while really just inventing new ways to waste time.

If your company suggests a brainstorming session, run. Or at least bring snacks. Because the only thing you’re building is a wall of sticky notes destined for the digital graveyard.

Ken Hollow, sticky-note casualty, reluctant participant in idea theater