Bill Myers
Fleeing from the Cylon tyranny
Today I was thinking about my "confessional" regarding my struggles with GTD. When I wrote it, I honestly thought I was never "good" at GTD. Now, it's true I never got as consistent and proficient as I hoped. Like I said, there were personal issues (a euphemism if ever there was one but that's for my protection and everyone else's) making my life harder (another euphemism) in all aspects, not just GTD. Still, I think it's fair to say I was a better theoretician than practitioner.
Except -- today I remembered something from one of my past jobs. I remember that the CEO of a company who was partnered with mine, and was someone I had to deal with regularly, thought I was a "consummate professional" because I could always remind him of actions he owed me even when he forgot. He seemed to think I had a super-power. But all I was doing was keeping a complete list of everything I was waiting for from anyone, anywhere, and following up on it regularly.
I remember another job I had where a department head I had to work with to get things done was frequently not getting back to people in a timely fashion. It was almost impossible to catch her in her office. She almost never returned phone calls. It was rare that she responded to emails on the first attempt. Because I kept a complete "waiting for" list, though, I knew when to "rattle her cage" with a follow-up email. It was often as simple as forwarding her the first email I sent with a super-quick message, like, "Following up. Status?" That was enough to prompt a very quick and useful response when other people were tearing their hair out about her not getting back to them.
Then there was the "two-minute" rule. I can't begin to count the number of projects I got unstuck during my weekly reviews (sometimes they were actually weekly) when I realized all that was needed was quick action I could take in the moment.
Then there was the client who thought I was amazing at follow-through, which made her confident enough to buy from me. Repeatedly. What I was doing wasn't amazing, though. I was just keeping track of my commitments to her.
If it sounds like I'm trying to toot my own horn, please believe me, nothing could be further from the truth. My point is, I wasn't doing anything amazing. I wasn't firing on all cylinders in my life, with GTD or anything else. I'd go long stretches without doing weekly reviews. I never really defined by higher-level horizons, much less reviewed them. Some days I had lists populated with all sorts of things but never reviewed them, leaving me driven by latest and loudest.
And yet... despite all this... certain very easy behaviors, when practiced consistently, produced very powerful results. Even if my GTD practice was at best a "half a loaf" in those days, it was way better than no loaf.
Which got me to thinking: in Getting Things Done, David Allen points out that he doesn't propose learning any new skills at all. Anyone who is capable of reading the book already knows how to do things like write things down, and decide on outcomes, for example. The only thing that's "radical" (which I put in quotes because it's ultimately not as radical as it sounds) is that he suggests we do this consistently with everything that's pulling at our attention in some fashion. That's it. Just do things we already know how to do. But do them consistently.
If I could get good results from what was a pretty half-@$$ed practice of GTD back in those days, how much more powerful would it be if I just did those things more consistently than I used to? Especially now that I realize that GTD only seemed hard back then because, frankly, I was making everything excessively hard for myself back then?
All I can say is that I'm truly stoked to take a crack at GTD again. I mean really, truly excited. To give myself as much structure as I need, but as little as I can get by with. So that when I'm doing things that are in my lists or on my calendar, I can be fully present. So that I can respond to the unexpected without over- or under-reacting. So that I can take a walk, go out to dinner at the spur of the moment, read, watch TV or just goof off without a nagging sense of guilt.
If I sound excited, I really, really am. Because I'm remembering just how much this stuff really works.
Except -- today I remembered something from one of my past jobs. I remember that the CEO of a company who was partnered with mine, and was someone I had to deal with regularly, thought I was a "consummate professional" because I could always remind him of actions he owed me even when he forgot. He seemed to think I had a super-power. But all I was doing was keeping a complete list of everything I was waiting for from anyone, anywhere, and following up on it regularly.
I remember another job I had where a department head I had to work with to get things done was frequently not getting back to people in a timely fashion. It was almost impossible to catch her in her office. She almost never returned phone calls. It was rare that she responded to emails on the first attempt. Because I kept a complete "waiting for" list, though, I knew when to "rattle her cage" with a follow-up email. It was often as simple as forwarding her the first email I sent with a super-quick message, like, "Following up. Status?" That was enough to prompt a very quick and useful response when other people were tearing their hair out about her not getting back to them.
Then there was the "two-minute" rule. I can't begin to count the number of projects I got unstuck during my weekly reviews (sometimes they were actually weekly) when I realized all that was needed was quick action I could take in the moment.
Then there was the client who thought I was amazing at follow-through, which made her confident enough to buy from me. Repeatedly. What I was doing wasn't amazing, though. I was just keeping track of my commitments to her.
If it sounds like I'm trying to toot my own horn, please believe me, nothing could be further from the truth. My point is, I wasn't doing anything amazing. I wasn't firing on all cylinders in my life, with GTD or anything else. I'd go long stretches without doing weekly reviews. I never really defined by higher-level horizons, much less reviewed them. Some days I had lists populated with all sorts of things but never reviewed them, leaving me driven by latest and loudest.
And yet... despite all this... certain very easy behaviors, when practiced consistently, produced very powerful results. Even if my GTD practice was at best a "half a loaf" in those days, it was way better than no loaf.
Which got me to thinking: in Getting Things Done, David Allen points out that he doesn't propose learning any new skills at all. Anyone who is capable of reading the book already knows how to do things like write things down, and decide on outcomes, for example. The only thing that's "radical" (which I put in quotes because it's ultimately not as radical as it sounds) is that he suggests we do this consistently with everything that's pulling at our attention in some fashion. That's it. Just do things we already know how to do. But do them consistently.
If I could get good results from what was a pretty half-@$$ed practice of GTD back in those days, how much more powerful would it be if I just did those things more consistently than I used to? Especially now that I realize that GTD only seemed hard back then because, frankly, I was making everything excessively hard for myself back then?
All I can say is that I'm truly stoked to take a crack at GTD again. I mean really, truly excited. To give myself as much structure as I need, but as little as I can get by with. So that when I'm doing things that are in my lists or on my calendar, I can be fully present. So that I can respond to the unexpected without over- or under-reacting. So that I can take a walk, go out to dinner at the spur of the moment, read, watch TV or just goof off without a nagging sense of guilt.
If I sound excited, I really, really am. Because I'm remembering just how much this stuff really works.
