Let’s begin with this: I am not the world’s best example of how to say no. I still say yes to too much — too much at work, with my family, with my community obligations — at the expense of sleep and sanity.
But I’m getting better at prioritizing things that matter, especially with my work. Over the last several years, I’ve discovered two questions that help me make decisions about how to spend my time. I’m here to share them with you.
1. Who are you willing to disappoint?
Start by accepting these truths: Lots of people want lots of things from you. Time is finite. There isn’t enough of you to go around. That means someone will be disappointed.
You still with me? If not, you’re either stellar at time management or you have a problem with denial that I can’t help you with.
Go ahead and think about all the requests for your time and attention. Consider:
- your core job responsibilities
- the other things at work that want to consume your time
- your own professional growth
- your marriage/partnership
- your kids
- your extended family
- your friends
- your health
- your faith, meditation practice or other internal life
- your hobbies
- your community life
- your neighborhood
I started to make a more specific list about my own life and quickly got exhausted, so just imagine your own. Then think about prioritizing the list not by urgency but by importance. (This is often easier to do day by day than in a big-picture, general sense.)
I had a lightning bolt realization a few years ago that the order of my list should drive my decisions. It happened when people involved in a tangential work project — not something core to my job — wanted me to devote more time to their efforts. And I kind of wanted to, but … I just couldn’t. No amount of wishing on their part or mine would create enough space in my life to do that. If I met their needs, I’d be neglecting my students and my newsroom. Or I would try to fit it all in at work and then neglect my family or my sleep. All for what? To please people I didn’t really owe anything to, who had no stake in my overall success or understanding of what else was on my plate?
Nope. When I realized what would have to give way to make room for that work, saying no became obvious. I was willing to disappoint them because there was truly no other option that made sense. I literally laughed out loud in my office when struck by the simplicity of the decision.
I typically go awry with this strategy in one of two ways: when I automatically prioritize the people right in front of me (over, say, the people waiting at home) or when I want so badly to do more (say, for a nonprofit I volunteer with) that I forget the bigger picture. No amount of wishing creates more than 24 hours in a day, as it turns out.
2. What can you give a B effort to?
During a particularly overwhelming period of my life, I had a demanding job where I felt intensely needed and pulled in multiple directions all day. I was getting a master’s degree (one class at a time over several years). And I had two little kids at home.
A very smart therapist helped me come up with coping strategies. At least, I think there were multiple strategies suggested. I really just remember this one, genius concept: What could I give a B effort to?
When she first said it, I stared at her blankly. I had no idea what she meant.
“I’m talking a B, Joy. A nice, solid 85 percent. What in your life could handle just 85 percent effort?”
She went on. “You know a B is still good, right?”
In fact, I did know that. I told my students that all the time. But I couldn’t wrap my brain around the idea that I would intentionally give anything less than my all.
Except … of course I did that. I’ve never been a 100% kind of parent volunteer, for example. I’m don’t run the school committees or coach basketball (and am continually grateful for the parents who do).
Also, let’s be real, I’m more likely to give less than a B effort to things that are personal goals, not things I’m obligated to do for others. Otherwise, I’d get to hot yoga more than once a month, right? (This has to do with how we respond to inner and outer expectations. For more on that, read Gretchen Rubin.)
But when it came to professional tasks — grading assignments, editing stories for the newspaper, writing a paper for grad school, industry mentoring, creating a conference presentation — I either gave them my all or felt badly about shortchanging them. The idea that I could be okay with a good-but-not-great work ethic was new. And completely liberating.
After all, refer back to question one. You can’t please everyone. It’s an amazing feeling to go ahead and decide what to prioritize rather than let the day take its course and cross your fingers it turns out okay.
This concept might mean that I say no entirely to things that would be huge commitment. But it more often manifests as I’m breaking down big tasks into smaller ones and putting limits on how much I’m willing to give. Yes, I can do most of this. No, I can’t do everything possible to make it as great as it could be.
The sense of freedom I get from saying no, or from intentionally limiting what I’m willing to offer, is so much more powerful than the satisfaction I get from meeting obligations or expectations.
Practice with me.
No, I can’t come to another weeknight meeting or event.
No, I can’t be on (or lead) that committee.
No, I can’t meet with you on the day I’m scheduled to be on a middle school field trip.
No, I can’t take that work trip that won’t benefit me tangibly enough to make it worthwhile.
No, I can’t have lunch with you so you can pick my brain. How about a 15-minute phone call instead? (Here’s a related post about the “can I pick your brain” question.)
No, I can’t find an hour for your interview in the next day when it would mean working into the evening to finish up my other work.
Nope.
