The Productivity Trap

Personal productivity is a holy grail for many knowledge workers in the contemporary American economy. Just like pilgrims seeking the original Holy Grail, today's knowledge workers pursue an almost single-minded quest for the next new productivity tip or trick. (Examples: using a desk setup with two monitors to work more efficiently; becoming a disciple of David Allen's generally helpful Getting Things Done; multitasking anywhere and everywhere).

All this fascination with efficiency leads quickly to the Productivity Trap: the idea that contentment, or success, or happiness is achieved by getting more done. We become convinced that we are one tool away--a new tabbed notebook, perhaps, or one iPhone app--from working efficiently enough to allow us more evenings off, or to avoid Saturday work, or to earn the higher bonus we crave. "Once I'm efficient enough to handle this workload," we say to ourselves, "I'll be able to get my time back."

Sounds good, but no. Once you get efficient enough to handle it, your boss will be so impressed that she will put you on the even bigger project with even tighter time demands. "Congratulations!" she'll say. "You did so well on the small project that you get to lead the big one!" Or, you'll get to be the boss, and not only have to do your own work but make sure everyone else is doing theirs too. Your time commitment will increase, not decrease, and you'll be off again in search of a few tips to "save time". You are stuck in the Productivity Trap.

The Productivity Trap becomes a self-perpetuating cycle when we spend more time working on our productivity systems--organizing browser bookmarks, shifting folder tags, re-writing to-do lists, optimizing Outlook, etc.--than we do actually working. In trying to be more productive, we get less real work done. We end up with the strange ability to precisely track, file, and retrieve the list of things we didn't get done today.

This is not to say that all productivity is bad or that efficiency is a false goal. To the extent that a work-saving tip allows you to complete a necessary task in less time, then productivity is a blessing; you are being both efficient and effective. Disorganization often results in duplicative or unnecessary work; any form of organization that prevents this is a net gain and should be praised. However, we get stuck in the Productivity Trap when productivity becomes an end in itself, not a tool to be used to achive our real objectives.

The only way to free up extra time for yourself is to do less. Learn to be honest about what is really important. Be ruthless in saying "no" to unimportant obligations. Be disciplined in doing your important tasks first in the day, before interruptions divert your attention. Yes, be efficient (do things well), but only while being effective (doing the right things). Efficiency without effectiveness is waste.

Let Your Boat Be Light!

I recently read Jerome K Jerome's comedy classic, Three Men In A Boat, first published in 1889 and continuously in print ever since. It is the story of the adventures of three friends who decide to take a several-day boat trip up the River Thames, observing life along the way. Filled with amusing situations and spiced with the narrator's (presumably Jerome himself) philosophical musings, the book is a rare mixture: thought-provoking comedy.

As the three friends are preparing their boat for departure, they bring everything they think they will need to the river, only to find they have brought more stuff than they can ever fit in the boat. One of the friends, George, comes up with a different idea, and Jerome's observations about that idea provide excellent advice for life:

George said:

"You know we are on a wrong track altogether. We must not think of the things we could do with, but only of the things that we can't do without."

George comes out really quite sensible at times. You'd be surprised. I call that downright wisdom, not merely as regards the present case, but with reference to our trip up the river of life, generally. How many people, on that voyage, load up the boat till it is ever in danger of swamping with a store of foolish things which they think essential to the pleasure and comfort of the trip, but which are really only useless lumber.

How thy pile the poor little craft mast-high with fine clothes and big houses; with useless servants, and a host of swell friends that do not care twopence for them, and that they do not care three ha'pence for; with expensive entertainments that nobody enjoys, with formalities and fashions, with pretence and ostentation and with--oh, the heaviest, maddest lumber of all! The dread of what will my neighbor think, with luxuries that only cloy with pleasures that bore, with empty show that, like the criminal's crown of yore, makes to bleed and swoon the aching head that wears it!

It is lumber, man--all lumber! Throw it overboard. It makes the boat so heavy to pull, and you nearly faint at the oars. It makes it so cumbersome and dangerous to manage, you never know a moment's freedom from anxiety and care, never gain a moment's rest for dreamy laziness--no time to watch the windy shadows skimming lightly o'er the shallows, or the glittering sunbeams flitting in and out among the ripples, or the great trees by the margin looking down at their own image, or the woods all green and golden, or the lilies white and yellow, or the sombre-waving rushes, or the sedges, or the orchids, or the blue forget-me-nots.

Throw the lumber over, man! Let your boat of life be light, packed with only what you need--a homely home and simple pleasures, one or two friends, worth the name, someone to love and someone to love you, a cat, a dog, a pipe or two, enough to eat and enough to wear, and a little more than enough to drink; for thirst is a dangerous thing.

You will find the boat easier to pull then, and it will not be so liable to upset, and it will not matter so much if it does upset; good, plain merchandise will stand water. You will have time to think as well as to work. Time to drink in life's sunshine--time to listen to the Aeolian music that the wind of God draws from the human heartstrings around us.......

"Let your boat of life be light"--what excellent advice to those of us who live in a society that drives us in the constant pursuit of more, better, faster.

Consider your own life; there are naturally many things you'd like to have on the journey, but what are the things you truly can't do without? What will you do to devote more of your time to those things?

Lazy, or just efficient?

Paul Johnson, the prolific historian who recently published a concise biography of Winston Churchill, once met the great statesman, when Churchill was old and Johnson was young. "Mr. Churchill, to what do you attribute your success?" asked Johnson. Churchill responded, "Economy of effort. Never stand when you can sit, and never sit when you can lie down." I thought of this story over the weekend when in the course of a conversation with my wife I made the observation that I am lazy.

"You're not lazy!" she exclaimed, reminding me that I manage to hold onto a decent job, I help out around the house to a (generally) satisfactory degree, and I even occupy many of my leisure hours with meaningful activity. She was of course thinking of the dictionary definition of lazy: "disinclined to activity or exertion," and I suppose by that standard she is right. I am certainly no workaholic, but I am not afraid of a little exertion.

But modify the definition with a qualifier--"disinclined to unnecessary activity or exertion," and by that revised definition I am proud to consider myself lazy. Indeed, it is my hypothesis that this kind of laziness is going to come to be seen as a virtue in the 21st century, as computing power continues to increase and the information stream turns into a river that threatens to drown us all who are trying to keep up.

Laziness is not yet mainstream; busyness is still the norm, and many people aspire to appear even busier than they are; this is because of the American tendency to equate busyness with importance. Indeed, my laziness probably limits my career prospects: I work for a big company, and the politics of big companies require one to excel at certain superfluous activities: face time in meetings that decide nothing, preparing reports and analyses of data that don't directly contribute to decisions (but do contribute to a perception that one must be busy), PowerPoint presentations to other groups in the company to explain graphically how busy one has been. (It is the grown-up version of your high school History teacher who demanded a 20-page paper on the Boston Tea Party. What if I can tell the story well in 15 pages? or 12? or 10?) Parkinson's Law is alive and well: "Work expands to fill the time available for its completion."

The lazy person fights a lonely fight against this pattern of measuring inputs, and instead shifts the focus to outputs. The question for a lazy person is not "How much work am I doing (regardless of outcome)?" but "What is the minimum amount of input I need to provide to achieve the desired outcome?" Laziness does not mean always do the minimum acceptable; it means do as little as possible to achieve the desired result, which might still be a very high standard. Churchill attributed his success to economy of effort, and yet he still accomplished more than most of us would even dream of, and to a very high standard.

But in the knowledge-based economy of the 21st century, laziness will deliver distinct advantages. Lazy people learn to discern the important from the merely urgent; this skill is invaluable when sorting through an email inbox that seems to refill more regularly than the miraculous jars of water that Jesus turned into wine. A lazy person is not afraid to say no to activities that don't support the goal; again, useful in work environments filled with cross-functional teams with no clear boss and no clear mandate. Finally, lazy people are efficient; they are constantly looking for a better way to do routine tasks, to free up time for more meaningful pursuits. In organizations that are trying to do more with less, this expertise can set one apart. Remember the old adage: "Want to know the best way to do something? Ask a lazy person."

Laziness involves certain challenges, however. First, one must be very thoughtful and clear about objectives. I believe much of our day-to-day busyness is merely activity that we use to avoid being honest with ourselves about what we need to or want to do. Second, if you work at a conventional company, you may have to accept a certain diminished career outlook, at least until your company recognizes the virtues of laziness for its bottom line. Unfortunately, many companies still like face time and frenetic activity, rather than actual results, as a signal of importance. And finally, you have to have a plan--what are you going to do with the time you free up by being more efficient? Are you interesting enough to have a life outside of work? Less work on any one project should mean you can work on more projects. If instead less equals less, then you have reverted to the traditional definition of laziness, and that is not a good place to be.

So join me in shedding the fear of being called lazy. Embrace economy of effort! Take back your time! Don't let the pervasive culture of busyness lead you to the trap of measuring your inputs instead of your outputs. Remember that what you do is more important than how you do it. Take Thomas Jefferson's advice to writers that the greatest skill is that of "never using two words when one will do" and apply it to all areas of your life.

Be lazy!

The Best Gift

The holidays are a fading memory now, and I'm not sure if the arctic cold that seems to have gripped the entire country will preserve those memories a little longer than normal, or freeze them out as my mind focuses instead on getting to the next warm place as soon as possible. Just in case it is the latter, I'd better get my holiday thoughts written down now.

Did you get a favorite gift this year? My friends and family were once again abundantly generous. I will be looking smart in my new clothes, and I received enough interesting books to keep me reading for months. My in laws added a touch of class to my office life with an attractive set of desk implements--including a cool desktop telescope, with which I can watch for attacking rival bankers from my sixth-floor office window. For me, it was a typical year of material blessing at Christmas.

But one of our tenets at Present Tense Living is to seek to be rich not in things, but in REM: relationships, experiences, and memories with the people in our lives. With that in mind, I must declare that my favorite gift of the year was not a thing at all: it was time. I got to spend nearly two full weeks with my family, including my brother and parents, in Phoenix. The trip was a blessing of time well spent, and not just because of the warm weather. I played in the pool with the kids; took morning jogs while the rising sun painted the desert sky; lingered over the table with my parents and brother, catching up on personal news; showed my kids the Grand Canyon for the first time, and watched them delight in throwing snowballs into the abyss; and walked with my toddler as he chased desert bunnies across the sidewalk. We had a grand time, and oh how hard it was to return to freezing Atlanta.

In short, it was two weeks of doing nothing, but it meant everything to me. There were no schedules to keep, no pressures to be productive, no rushing around to do more in less time. We were simply there, enjoying each other's company, and delighting in the gift of time. We built relationships, shared experiences, and created memories that will last long after our last Christmas gift has been consigned to the landfill.

If only we could capture a little of that feeling in regular life! The ability to set aside the quotidian cares of existence for just an evening, or a weekend day, would do wonders for our psyches, I believe. Perhaps my new year's resolution should be to pick one evening a week to do nothing, or to have no purpose, other than to spend time with my family. If we all agreed to do it, maybe we could capture a little of that holiday magic throughout the year--what an enduring gift that would be.

Would you take a year off?

Yesterday in the Wall Street Journal, Elizabeth Wurtzel wrote about a bewildering choice made by several elite Yale Law School graduates last year to pass on an offer to take $80,000, plus benefits, plus student loan payments, to defer for a year starting as Associates at the elite Cravath law firm in New York.

Ashby Jones, who writes the Journal's Law Blog, points out some reasons why a student might choose to go ahead and work: the offer was optional, and the full-time pay is double the deferral offer; the students have been trained to do something and they want to get on with doing it; and, the types of people who thrive at top-tier law schools value structure in their lives, so a year with no structure or externally-imposed goals would be unthinkable.

But still. To me, the opportunity to get paid for a year off, before starting a job that is sure to consume nearly every waking hour for the first several years, seems a no brainer. Even now, mid-career, the idea of a sabbatical to pursue other interests for a year or so would be a welcome opportunity. I could write more, I could travel with the kids, I could be much more active for a year in church and charity work. I wonder if I would ever want to return to an office.

What about you? Would you take the money? What would you do for a year if you didn't have to work to support yourself?

Who Are You?

"What do you do?"

This is nearly always among the first questions we are asked (or that we ask) when we meet a new acquaintance. Appearance may form our initial impression of a person, but we want to know what they do in order to assign them a lasting place in our mental hierarchy. The answer conveys important social information about the person.

It signals their probable wealth, social status, perhaps the neighborhood they are likely to live in, and we may even project what we expect their house and car to look like. If I tell you, "I'm a doctor," your mind immediately places me in a certain size house, maybe with a sports car, probably with certain other status markers. If I tell you, "I'm a delivery driver," your mind immediately draws different conclusions.

We form these little judgments and opinions not only about the people we meet, but about ourselves as well. Anyone who works for a big company, unless you are a C-level executive, probably wrestles with self-image problems about his job. This is because big companies have splintered work into such tiny pieces that it is very difficult to describe what any one job is. Thus "Chief Financial Officer" is easy to understand, but "Financial Analyst in the Resource Evaluation and Recovery Group" conveys very little information to people you meet outside your company, and leaves them fuzzy about what exactly it is that you do. They therefore have trouble fitting you into their mental hierarchy. Is that better or worse than the friend they have who is an "Assistant brand manager for card processing products"? And if others are confused about our identity, then we get confused about our identity. This explains the people you meet who answer the question with a more general, "I'm in marketing," or "I'm in banking", which at least allows you to form a more clear picture of where they rank.

The trouble with all of this is that it means we form opinions of our acquaintances on gross generalizations and summary stereotypes about only a portion of someone's life. We may summarily dismiss very worthwhile people because "he works for the government" (stereotype: he's lazy) or "she's an accountant" (she's boring). When we turn these generalizations onto ourselves, we fall into the trap of defining our entire persona based on our work. While it is true that most of us must spend more time at work than doing anything else, it should not naturally follow that therefore work is the most important thing in our lives.

I work in an industry, finance, which has undergone constant change and upheaval over the past ten years. I have seen many co-workers laid off in restructurings and reorganizations, and even was displaced once myself. In my experience, the ones who are most resilient through the process are those whose self-identity consists of much more than what they do. When they ask themselves the question, "What do you do?", the answer is "I'm a painter," or "I'm a mother," or "I'm a biker" first, after which comes a job to make money.

Who are you? Yes, your career is important, but it will come to an end some day, perhaps at a time of your choosing, or perhaps at a time you don't choose. If you let your career define you, then that day will be the end of you; not your physical death, of course, but you will be adrift in the world, unsure of who you are, like a teenager trying to figure out where to fit in. Don't let that happen to you; be an interesting person, defined by a host of activities, relationships, and interests--in addition to a career.

Try this the next time you meet someone: don't ask them what they do. Instead, ask "What did you do last weekend?" or "Where are you going for vacation this year?" If they ask you what you do, answer first with a hobby: "I play guitar, and to make money I'm a banker." The conversation that follows should be much more interesting than "So how's work?", and it will teach you to value other people, and yourself, for who they are, not where they work.

Waste Not, Want Not

It was a sad week for my extended family as we gathered in Charlotte to lay to rest my cousin Amy's husband, Mike. Only 45 years old, he died from malignant melanoma barely three years after it was first diagnosed in one of his toes. He leaves behind my cousin and their three teenage children.

In the funeral sermon, Amy's brother, Steve, recalled a prayer offered by Mike this past January after learning the cancer had spread throughout his body, and having been given 9-12 months to live. "Lord, help me not to waste my cancer." It was a selfless prayer; recognizing that he was going to be unable to escape his fate, Mike sought some useful purpose for his cancer. By all accounts he found one, using the months he had left to spend lots of time with his family, reconnect with friends near and far, and to inspire others with God's love the best he could to all he met. He did not waste his cancer.

I am impressed with Mike's attitude and inspired by the example he set. Too much of my daily life is spent wanting something: a promotion, more pay, a bigger house, a better car, a nicer TV, more time, etc. All that focus on wants makes contentment hard to come by, since I am always noticing what I don't have. Wants create more wants in a never-ending cascade of greed and envy. As Epicurus wrote: "Nothing satisfies the man who is not satisfied with little."

But as Mike demonstrated, the key is to take what you have and do the most you can with it. Sadly, Mike didn't have nearly as many days on this earth as any of us would want; but he made the absolute most of the ones he did have, and the world is a better place for it. He did not waste his days, and in the end he did not need any more days to have had a full life. Waste not, want not.

Don't waste your life. Don't waste your job. Don't waste your spouse, your kids, your friends, your money, your time. Use what you have to live a full life, today, and every day. Be defined by what you do, not by what you want. Wants will never fully go away, but they need not control our lives. Don't take for granted, or waste, the opportunities and blessings you already have, and perhaps the wants will seem less important.

Waste not, want not.