Yiddish folklore and the freelancer

In my days at McMurry (an excellent custom magazine publisher and communications firm based here in Phoenix), a coworker of mine told me an old Yiddish folk tale that went something like this...

There was an office drone who ignored his inbox for a good period of time, and it stacked up halfway to the ceiling. At some point, he decided that it was a danger to his job, and maybe a fire hazard, so it was time to address the accumulated pile.

He started from the bottom. The issue in the first memo had already been solved. Reading the second piece of paper, he found that it was about a project that had been dropped. Same with the third, fourth and so on—every single problem had either been resolved, put on hold or abandoned entirely.

Upon returning from my vacation, my inbox isn't necessarily like that. But I am comforted by the fact that nothing blew up while I was away. I'd like to think it's because I planned well, gave all my clients plenty of notice, and left things in relatively good shape. The reality is, it's more likely because things always seem more emergent when you're available to work on them.

Now, gotta go. Back to my inbox.

Time for Timer

I've always envied those writers who sit down and crank out hundreds of words for hours on end. That's not the way my brain works. I'm more of a sprinter: write for short bursts of time, then do something else for a while--invoicing, filing, go for a run, etc.

So, the other day on the Wall Street Journal, I came across a review of time management/organizational techniques. The Pomodoro Technique description caught my eye for its simplicity: You set a timer for 25 minutes, after which you've earned a 5-minute break. (I downloaded the ebook but haven't read it yet...I'm wondering if I even need to.) There are several Mac Dashboard widgets to accomplish the task, but I chose "Egg Timer," which pings you with verbal message when it expires. Mine says, "Time to check the Pomodoro."

Also on the WSJ recommendation, I also purchased a copy of "Getting Things Done: The Art of Stress-Free Productivity," and it's an interesting read so far. It's designed to be a "whole-life" organizer, and I particularly like the ways in which it departs from the standard Franklin Planner method, which never really worked for me.

Chowdah

A few years ago when we were in the process of moving to a new house, my sister and brother-in-law introduced me to the concept of "chowdah"--mind you, not the eternal debate between creamy (New England) or tomato-broth (Manhattan) versions of the clam-and-potato soup. No, this is the term in the moving industry to describe "all the crap that's left over after you've moved all the big stuff and packed boxes."

In our working lives, we all collect our fair share of chowdah, and we all have our ways of dealing--or not dealing--with it. For me, I tend to shuttle between grinding away on big projects and shoveling a bit of chowder. I know that probably runs contrary to the way an organizational guru would recommend, but it works for me--the psychology of having a few easy victories helps me plug away at the more substantial items that don't always show instant progress.

And for the record, New England clam chowder is way better.

The "Mary" Principle

My wife works at a large public company...just about as different as you can get from my one-man show. As a result, I am always interested (in a rubber-necker-watching-a-car-crash way) to hear the daily report of what I'm missing by operating outside the strictures of a corporate office.

Last night, we were talking about good and bad managers, and the topic of the Peter Principle came up--"People are promoted to the level of their incompetence"--as did the the Paul Principle, which says that "you need to provide people with what they need to succeed."

Fair enough. As we discussed it, though, I came to the conclusion that there's another possibility. Since we've already got Peter and Paul, let's call it the Mary Principle. In my formulation, the Mary Principle dictates that there are a lot of people who simply don't aspire to climbing the corporate ladder, so they'll never reach their point of incompetence. Perhaps they're satisfied with their job, or the pay, or the benefits, or all of the above. Maybe they're not competitive, or simply don't want the added pressure, risks and expectations of whatever resides on the next rung.

The biggest danger, I imagine, would eventually be crushing boredom. Then again, I never hung around long enough on a corporate ladder to find out.