If you live in the suburbs long enough, sooner or later you realize that
you need to become productive. Get some chores done. Fix up the holes in the
den ceiling, clean the yard, repair the dishwasher, reupholster some
furniture. That sort of thing.
Recently, I looked at our house and decided that productivity was
definitely in order. The linoleum in the kitchen is worn through, the
appliances (in their original, auto-gag avocado green) are not working
properly, the dog has ruined the carpet in every room (at least once), the
roof needs replacing, the siding needs painting, and the storage room in the
garage is so full of old street-hockey sticks, skateboards, bicycles, and
gardening tools that you can’t even get the door open.
So I went and found a copy of Getting Things Done: The Art of
Stress-Free Productivity by David Allen, who is dubbed “the personal
productivity guru” right there on the cover. The book is tremendously
popular with the business audience, but it’s also finding a surprising
following among those of us who have been slobs long enough and are intrigued
by this notion of productivity and relaxation all rolled into one.
Allen’s got a method which, he claims, will lead to productivity
in even the most stubborn sluggard. Basically, you just need a big box — or
file folder, or desk drawer — to serve as the repository for all your
fleeting ideas, plans, goals, and dreams. Just write them down and toss them
in.
Once a week or so you go through this repository and figure out
the steps you need to take to accomplish these items. If something takes two
minutes or less, you do it immediately. If it takes longer, you decide whether
to delegate it (make the kids do it), defer it (my standard modus operandi),
or toss it (my fallback M.O.).
If you don’t believe it’s this simple, Allen has a splendid Web
site — www.davidco.com — where you too can learn about setting up the
various calendars, notebooks, and file folders you’ll need to become
productive and relaxed.
For my part, folders weren’t enough. I went whole hog and
complicated the equation by purchasing a Palm Vx (which Allen actually
endorses). This ideal little organizer wasn’t sufficient, though, because I
soon needed to “sync” my Palm Vx to a Personal Information
Management program on my computer. This entailed buying a new computer
(Pentium IV, of course), a 17-inch LCD monitor, Klipsch THX-certified computer
speakers (300 watts, with a subwoofer!), and — well, let’s just say I’m wired
for action.
All the while, the ceiling remained unfixed, the bedrooms needed
painting, the dog needed his shots, the dishwasher still made its typical
belching noises, and the car still needed a brake job.
Then I happened upon the missing techno element: When I got to
page 93 of Allen’s book, I found that he advocates the use of a Brother P-
Touch labeller, a device which I have wanted for years but for which I could
never work up a good rationale for purchasing. I went and bought one right
off, and it changed my life. The P-Touch is the high-tech spawn of the old
Dymo punch labellers — you remember, the spinning wheel of letters and the
squeeze handle that embossed them on a piece of plastic tape. The new P-Touch
labellers are much smoother — there’s a keyboard, and they’ll produce
laminated labels with five lines of type, and several different fonts — and
are capable of withstanding either freezer or microwave.
If you think I’m alone in my enthusiasm, hear what Allen has to
say: “Thousands of executives and professionals and homemakers I have
worked with now have their own automatic labellers, and my archives are full
of their comments, like, ‘Incredible — I wouldn’t have believed what a
difference it makes!’ The labeller will be used to label your file folders,
binder spines, and numerous other things.”
Thousands of executives and professionals and homemakers, just
like me. Labelling everything. The sugar bowl: SUGAR. The pantry: FOOD. The
fridge: CLOSE DOOR. The toilet in the kids’ bathroom: FLUSH. It’s endlessly
useful, as you can see.
The trouble is, I got just a bit involved in the technological
side of my system and sort of forgot the productivity part. I realized this
when I found myself in the den with a dirt rake, scooting all the file folders
and computer boxes and software manuals into a spare closet. There, in the
heap, lay the tiny Palm Vx, forlorn and unused. Rather than let a labelling
opportunity slide, I got out the P-Touch and printed a label — DO WHAT? —
and stuck it on the screen so I’d know, next time, just what kind of trouble I
was making for myself.
You can e-mail David Dawson at letters@memphisflyer.com.
