The History of Your Perfect Productivity
And the Gods of Perfect Productivity said ‘Perhaps you should start with paper’ and it was good. . .
It has started.
In your business, in your life you have things to do. Many things and growing. You start your day and like a forestman builds his fire, you rekindle your tasks for the now. It’s morning and you take your first sip of beautiful coffee. For the moment it’s just you, encircled by French Roast. Things are placid, quiet.
But then you reach into your brain and unlock your Pandora’s Box and all the ghouls and goblins rush out: people to call, emails to send, meetings to prepare, on and on. It feels uncontrollable. These chores pour from that box like a sky full of ravens randomly cawing across the dirty clouds.
And now your perfect coffee is cold and the croissant half-eaten.
You rub your face and run your hands through your hair. You’ll probably do this several times this morning. Your colleagues are right. You do need a solution.
Brian raves about his system. Omni. . .something. Paul swears by an app called. . .Things. There’s a team in Marketing using Bearcamp. . .sorry. . .Basecamp. They collaborate. Tasks, calendars, notes, other stuff. Freida uses Excel. You get the shivers thinking about spreadsheets.
Your phone rings. Someone from IT getting back to you. You reach for a yellow lined pad and write down a website. And thanks.
You stare at what you just wrote, reflexively drawing a checkbox in front of it.
You’re on to something.
Within five minutes you have written fifteen check-boxed items. You take a red pen out of your University of Pennsylvania mug and number the items 1–15. You think about rewriting them in order but then The Gods of Perfect Productivity intervene.
You don’t need to reorder anything. Easy enough to work with what you have.
So you pop in another Peet’s Keurig and start working.
Number 1 is fourth on your list. You make the call, flip the page in your pad and add a new task based on your phone conversation. This is easy. This might work.
Number 2 is tenth on your list.
Number 3 is fifth.
Number 4 eighth.
5 ninth.
You stand, knees crack, grab your coffee and take a taste. Wonderful. But there’s another great aroma in the air: the fragrance of perfect productivity.
With the last sip of your second Keurig, Your fifteen tasks have been crossed off and seven new ones have been added to tomorrow’s page. You find yourself looking up to the crown molding and to The Gods of Perfect Productivity beyond.
Could it be this easy? Maybe I should invest in learning Omni. . .something or that Things?
TGPP respond again.
You just found a simple system that works for you. Stay with it. Wait for a sign from us that you need something electronic, something more complex. Take a break. . .you deserve it.”
You Are in Control
During your break, you sit on the third floor patio. You realize the yellow pad has followed and sits on the glass table. You flip to the second page and review your new tasks.
TGPP: Put the pad away. Look at the sky. It’s blue. Remember that color? Take a comforting breath. Another. One more. Sit back. Feel the mid-morning sun on your face. Nice. . .huh?
Brian and Paul amble in and sit by the door. Brian is fumbling with his tablet. Paul comes round to his shoulder then grabs the thing and fusses with it, hands it back to Brian. He looks at the screen and gestures on the display. . .and waits. Shakes his head. Paul grabs the tablet and fidgets with it again. Now he’s shaking his head. A mobile phone comes out. A call to IT perhaps?
Somehow, you’re entertained by the pantomime. You look down at your yellow pad and notice a ballpoint drawing of two figures futzing with an iPad. Each figure has a hovering question mark above his head.
Your friends’ meeting ends abruptly. They didn’t even see you.
And back at your office.
You have two voicemails. You start to reach for the phone even before you sit down.
TGPP: Sit first, take a breath, yellow pad front and center. Relax. Okay, now the phone.
The calls are quick and two more tasks for tomorrow.
Your assistant reminds you about the pre-lunch meeting. You grab your yellow pad and stroll out the door.
At the meeting, you seem to be the only manager following the presenter. Every one else is lost in computers, thumbing on smart phones, gesturing on tablets.
You decide to go off campus for lunch. You take a new route to an old favorite. Santiago Canyon Road to Mojeska Canyon to Silverado Trail. Lemonade never tasted so good. Now there’re three sketches in your yellow pad.
You’re ten minutes late for your afternoon meeting. Shame on you for enjoying your lunch.
Back in your office you do something you’ve never done. Searching your cabinets you find that box of Peppermint Chamomile Keurigs you got during last year’s office Christmas and throw a cylinder into the machine.
Delicious.
Your meetings over, your start working on those priority tasks written in for tomorrow. I can do this?
Sip. . .sip. Task done.
Sip. . .sip. . .sip. Another done.
The last sip. . . Done.
You spin your high-back leather chair and gaze at the mountains beyond. This morning they were encased in a shroud of gray. And now. . .clear and blue. You can even see the tiny thin antenna array on the highest peak.
It’s four o’clock. Calls returned. Meetings completed. Tasks scratched off. Could every day be like this?
You remember that proposal from Ethan that somehow got tossed in your someday pile. He’s called twice. You find Ethan’s work, flip to a third page in your yellow pad, and start reading. . .
