CHAPTER 2
YOU ARE HERE: THE HUMAN BODY AND TIME
THE FLOODED BASEMENT
It’s a nice day, so you decide to pay a visit to your neighbor. You knock on the door, but there’s no answer. Still, you can distinctly hear noise coming from within, a sloshing noise, which is kind of weird, so you venture around to the side of the house for a peek.
Squinting through an open basement window, you see him, up to his knees in water. He is frantically trying to get rid of the flood by using a metal bucket, scooping up as much water as he can, and then pitching it through the window onto your shoes.
“What are you doing?” you ask.
“I’ve got all this water coming in,” he shouts back, “and I can’t see where it’s coming from.”
“Have you tried calling Public Works? Maybe they can turn the water off for you,” you suggest.
“I’ve got no time for that, I’ve got to see to the water first!” he shouts, and resumes bailing out his flooded basement.
This man is obviously doing the wrong thing. Rather than tackling the source of the problem, he is reacting, desperately trying to clear out the results of the overload. His mind and body have been consumed by a necessity that has overridden clear thought. He is consumed by the urgency of the moment. And all the while, more and more water is coming in.
What would have been the Cool Time thing to do? To go upstairs and use a phone rather than a bucket, to call Public Works first, and maybe rent a pump second.
In this story, the water obviously represents the workloads that seem like an unending and sometimes unpredictable stream. The man with his bucket represents us—our mindset, our efforts, and our tools. The picture is reactive, desperate, and inadequate. But wait a minute. We’re all pretty smart people. Why do we often feel that we’re trapped in this basement, bailing frantically? Because collectively, we simply have not evolved fast enough to keep up with the stresses of today’s world.
RATTLESNAKES AND BEES
We are a product of hundreds of thousands of years of evolution. Our physical bodies, as mentioned in Chapter 1, have not changed much in design in over 50,000 years, yet the tools that shape our lives are for the most part just a couple of decades old. This has a profound impact on how we approach work and time, not because we can do things faster, but because we don’t know how to keep the tools themselves, which have their own sense of urgency, under control. The communication they facilitate demands immediate responses.
The deepest and innermost parts of the human brain are dedicated to maintaining and preserving life, for example, breathing and reacting to danger, among other things. One of the human brain’s many responsibilities is to enable us to react when we notice flashes of light, bright contrasts, and sudden movements—in other words, changes to the visual field. In the wild, this is extremely useful in helping us to avoid bees, rattlesnakes, and other dangerous creatures by enabling us to perceive the flash of bright color or movement and to get out of the way in a hurry, it is a reflex action.
In the modern world, this ever-alert part of our central nervous system remains constantly on guard, reacting to new “flashes” of our own design. For example, when you’re driving, it will pick out the strobe-light flash of a police car or tow truck even in broad daylight, and you will see it first, before all the other visual distractions in front of you. Or if you step off a curb and, out of the corner of your eye, you glimpse a car coming toward you, you will leap back. This self-preservation device delivers a top-priority message to your nervous system to warn you to get out of harm’s way.
Now, picture this: You’re working away at your desk, and all of a sudden, bing! You’ve got mail! The little symbol tells you there’s something new in your mailbox. It wasn’t there before, but now it is. What’s the first thing you want to do? Answer it, right? It could be important. It could be fun! It’s a tantalizing novelty. Most of us cannot resist the lure of the “new mail” icon. The hardwired response of the central nervous system to deal with a new stimulus has now become a conditioned reflex.
Here is another example: You’re in the middle of a face-to-face conversation with someone when the phone rings. Your train of thought is derailed briefly as you struggle to override your desire to answer the call, or at least to ignore its persistent ring. You may succeed in not answering it, but the ring has interrupted the momentum of the conversation.
A final example: You arrive at your desk, with the day’s schedule clear in your mind. As soon as you sit down, a colleague shows up with an issue that she says is important and needs to be dealt with. You heed the call and before long, all of your planned events of the day get shifted further and further back until your day is a jumbled mess.
In all of these situations, and many others, false urgencies stimulate your innate alert-response trigger, and it’s extremely hard to ignore. It’s a conditioned reflex—an ancient reflex that responds to modern priorities, which I call Answerholism. Once you respond, more time gets wasted, and the slippery slope begins. Just like the neighbor with the flooded basement, the urgency of the immediate overrides our control over our day, and damage occurs.
THE CONDITIONED REFLEX
If you were to sit two people side by side—an Aboriginal hunter, from a remote jungle village, and your real-estate agent—and then place a cellphone between them and make it ring, the hunter would be startled by the sound. That’s a reflex. The agent would leap to answer it or to at least check who’s calling, preparing her mind for the possibilities and urgencies of the call. If it wasn’t her phone, she would probably start to worry about whose phone it was. This concern would override anything else she was thinking about at that moment. That’s a conditioned reflex. The need to address the call over all other priorities is Answerholism, an addictive behavior that has less than optimum results.
Before the days of e-mail and voicemail people would return to their office after lunch to find a collection of pink “While You Were Out” memos stuck on a spike on their desk. They would read through these messages and prioritize whom they would call back and when. In that situation, the power of decision rested with the individual’s conscious mind. That’s a big difference. Tangible tools like the pink pieces of paper did not prompt the reactionary central nervous system in the same way the bing! of incoming e-mail does. Instead they led to a more conscious and calm thought process. Though the stack of pink papers still meant more tasks to get done, they allowed prioritization to be based on thought, not reflex.
THE FEAR OF THE UNKNOWN
Our desire for self-preservation also translates into a fear of the unknown. For example, our senses sharpen if we walk through a dark forest or down a deserted street at night. But the fear of the unknown strikes in other ways, too. Many people, for example, dislike voicemail. The frustration of not knowing whether a message has reached its recipient is rooted in the fear of the unknown. Is the person there today? Did she get my message? When will she call back? What does that mean to my projects and priorities? To that end, some organizations refuse to use voicemail, preferring to remain accessible to their customers by answering every call every time. On both ends of the line, productivity and communication have been hamstrung by the fear of the unknown.
(When properly used, voicemail can be a perfect customer-relations tool, one that proactively manages the fears and concerns of your callers, one that strikes a happy and profitable medium between being accessible to your clients and enabling you to use your time most effectively, simply by choosing the right words to use in your greeting. This will be covered in more detail in Chapter 10.)
THE CIRCADIAN “RHYTHM SECTION”
Another feature of our physical makeup that has a great impact on our perception and use of time is rhythm. Our beating heart is but one of numerous rhythmic patterns in the human body. There are the daily circadian rhythms of sleep and wakefulness, rhythms in speech patterns, energy levels, and in internal chemical and hormonal adjustments. We ride a roller coaster of peaks and valleys, highs and lows. We ride on crests of momentum and energy, and then dip down into ebbs and troughs every ninety minutes. These highs and lows occur throughout the day, buffeting us with changing levels in blood sugar, stress, stamina, and attentiveness, and resulting in a highly variable platform that we call our “selves.”
The worst part of the day for most people, for example, is the early to mid-afternoon slot, from 2:00p.m. to 3:30 p.m., a time when the body is at its lowest physical ebb of the entire waking day, and when even the simplest tasks seem to require additional effort. This is due to a sinister combination of circumstances: first, your stomach is busy digesting lunch (assuming you eat lunch, which you should), and, second, an internally generated twelve-hour cycle is busy mirroring the deep-sleep period of 2:00A.M. to 3:30A.M. in which the body is at the lowest ebb of the sleep cycle. This mid-afternoon slog is the period that I call “chocolate time.”
WHAT IS IT WITH CHOCOLATE?
Chocolate is a staple of the late-afternoon doldrums. It is high in fat and sugar, which allows the body to quickly convert it into glucose and dissolve it into the bloodstream. It also contains the stimulants caffeine and theobromine, as well as phenylethylamine, which react with dopamine to release endorphins from the pleasure center of the brain—the same endorphins that are released during times of emotional pleasure. This is why so many cultures equate chocolate with sex (think Valentine’s Day). Some even say chocolate is better.
As if these cycles and troughs weren’t enough, we humans have another impediment to efficiency, which is our built-in daily downward spiral—our metabolic peaks and valleys gradually lower as the day goes on. For most people, whether they want to admit it or not, mornings are the period of highest energy and alertness, and it goes downhill from there.
Figure 2.1: This line represents our typical metabolic roller coaster of blood sugar and energy levels. We spend our days on a downward spiral toward sleep. However, adequate regular nutrition and balance can help level out the peaks and troughs quite significantly.
Biologically, we are a light-loving species. Our minds and metabolisms react to the changes in light as night turns to day by releasing stimulant hormones such as serotonin (a sleep inhibitor) and cortisol (a stress hormone) into the bloodstream to counteract the effects of melatonin, which it introduced the evening before to get us to go to sleep.
This daily rhythm is called circadian, from the Latin words circa (around) and dian (day). Nature attuned us as hunter-gatherers to be alert first thing in the morning (when food would be more plentiful) and sleepy at night (because darkness gives protection from predators and motionlessness is protection from injury).
Most people in the Western working world and, statistically, the majority of people you interact with will follow this circadian rhythm, with mornings (between 9:00A.M. and 12:00P.M.) being the time for productive, cerebral activities, and afternoons best suited for less challenging tasks.
STRIKE WHILE THE COFFEE IS HOT
The best time to communicate important information to people is between 9:00A.M. and 9:30A.M. That’s when the combined influences of light, caffeine, and the activity of traveling to work yield the greatest alertness for all involved. Schedule your meetings for 9:00A.M. sharp, and get your most important concepts out on the table within the first thirty minutes.
SLEEP, PERCHANCE TO DREAM
Most of us also operate in sleep deficit. Current studies show that the average North American adult needs between eight and ten hours of sleep per night.
1 Some might need less, but an easy way to determine if you’re getting enough sleep is this: If you need an alarm clock to wake up in the morning, that means you are not waking up naturally, which means your sleep cycle isn’t in tune with your day. If you wake up Monday morning having had one hour of sleep less than you need, then you are in sleep deficit. If the same thing happens on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, by the time you get to Friday, you’re short five hours of sleep. Then, by trying to compensate by sleeping in on Saturday morning, you throw off your rhythm even further. (The best solution is to get up at the same time every day, and go to bed at the same time every night.)
Sleep deficit is another example of the disparity between our perceptions of our actions and abilities within time and the reality. We are fighting battles with ourselves, physically, chemically, emotionally, and intellectually every second of the day.
By the way, there is a better solution to sleep deficit than merely going to bed earlier, and that’s to introduce higher quality sleep more quickly through the proper use of “downtime.” We’ll cover this in Chapter 12.
THE CIRCULAR WORLD
Meanwhile, the rotations of days, nights, seasons, tides, and the moon continue without fail. The plants and trees of the world breathe and release carbon dioxide every twenty-four hours, while large-scale weather patterns ferry moisture, cold, and warmth from one part of the globe to another. The planet itself seems to be breathing, living, and playing to its own vast cadence.
This innate sense of rhythm then influences our perception of time, so that it too seems to have a rhythmic or circular pattern. Clocks repeat the same numbers every twelve hours. We have only seven days of the week, so each comes around regularly. New Year’s Day also comes around once a year, the Olympic Games every four years, and so on. Circularity allows society to structure itself with predictability and standardization. It would be extremely difficult for any society to continue without it. But all that next Tuesday has in common with this Tuesday is its name, nothing more.
Our vernacular is full of phrases that enliven time and make it a real commodity. Expressions such as “I haven’t got the time,” or “Time flies,” or “Where did the day go?” give time an elasticity that doesn’t exist. We talk about people “wasting time,” “spending time,” “killing time,” “managing time,” as if it were a substance to be bought, sold, and reused. Everyone knows these are harmless sayings, but they, too, place the blame and the responsibility for change squarely on the shoulders of time itself. We have convinced ourselves that we could have, or should have, or actually do have control over time, and we find ourselves mystified when the truth comes out.
Though it is convenient to match our calendar with the annual rhythms of the seasons, and to objectify time as a tangible object, we should take more care to see ourselves as we really are—marching in a straight line, advancing along our own finite section of an eternal straight line like ants on a ruler.
OSMOSIS AND FOOTBALL IN THE WORKPLACE
Humans are also by nature social creatures, so we tend to invite and enjoy conversation, distraction, and mental stimulation: the joke-of-the-day e-mail from a friend, the water-cooler chat, a brief stint of surfing the web. These things can be effective in enlivening the day and providing a few moments of leisure, but they do come with a price, for after they have passed, the work still remains to be done, and we are then forced to stay late, take work home, or make other sacrifices to catch up.
Furthermore, as products of our Western education system, most of us are trained in a skill and then join the workforce. We continue to learn though training and professional development courses, as well as practical experience, hopefully building a stable career and putting food on the table. However, another, more sinister type of learning also happens. While we integrate ourselves into the corporate culture of the company, we start to adopt the habits and norms of our peers, including many latent, long-established time inefficiencies that are passed on through osmosis.
It takes us by surprise, therefore, when we learn for the first time that most people “work” for only about one-third of the hours that they spend “at work,” meaning they actually will get only three hours of measurable work done in an eight- or nine-hour day.
2 Though this at first seems to be an affront to our ambitions, it doesn’t actually refer to a lack of dedication or drive. The average business day is full of productivity roadblocks such as meetings, e-mail, and drop-in visitors, conflicts and staff issues, technological problems and crises, all of which, though they may be considered as part of the work for which we are being paid, occur in irregular and unpredictable ways, breaking up the momentum of work and delaying tasks on our calendar. The difference between how much we think we’ve done and how much work we have actually achieved is surprising.
But three hours? That’s a small fraction of a day to be counted as productive work in the purest sense of the word. It’s like taking a stopwatch to a football game. Over the course of a four-hour game, between the downs, the line changes, and the time-outs, the ball is actually only in play for about twenty minutes—a very small segment of the game’s entire span.
Numerous polls of North American professionals have revealed that for many, during the course of a workday, these things happen:
• 25 percent of people’s time is spent doing actual work
• 15 percent of the day is spent responding to e-mail and voicemail
• 15 percent of the day is spent on the phone
• 20 percent of the day is spent in meetings and conversations
• 25 percent of the day is spent preparing for those meetings or dealing with the follow-up
The fact that such a relatively small amount of the workday is spent doing actual planned work is often overlooked until someone is called upon to estimate the delivery date of a project. In an attempt to please a potential new client, you, your boss, or your salesperson might say, “We can have that to you by Thursday.” In fact, if you had nothing else to do, and could work on this client’s needs exclusively for eight uninterrupted hours a day, you probably could have it ready for Thursday. But that’s being way too optimistic, and that’s where the problems happen. We have to be realistic, and even a little bit pessimistic. We don’t know what other crises might happen between now and Thursday, but we can count on a few simple truths:
• Things always take longer than you think, and a lot longer than you hope.
• If someone asks you to do something and includes the word “just,” as in “Can you just ...?” you’re already in trouble.
• There’ll never be a perfect time to get it done.
• No matter how many good things you do for a person, he’ll always remember (and talk about) the one bad thing that happened.
WATER IN THE BUCKET
This chapter started with the story of a man and his bucket. Let’s have a last look at that bucket. A bucket can hold a fixed amount of water. Once the bucket is filled to the brim, you can try to pour more water in, but an equal amount will have to come back out. It just cannot hold any more.
Now let this bucket represent a fixed amount of time. We each have access to twenty-four hours a day, but we can’t borrow any time from previous days, nor can we ask for repeats or advances. These twenty-four-hour days come and go, regularly and unfailingly. The day is fixed in length. It is the primary working tool of our existence.
Many people start off their days with the best intentions, planning what they will do and in which order, yet things quickly start to unravel as urgencies of all sorts start to occur. The day’s schedule, which was probably already full of planned tasks, now starts to overflow. People get stressed, and they work through lunch and stay late to try to get back on top of things. They expand and distort their working day in order to keep up with the overflow of work. They wish for more hours in a day, or for time to freeze, just until they’re caught up. They’re on a quest for more time—that bigger bucket. The problem is that even with a bigger bucket, they’ll still end up working twice as hard to move half as much water.
The trick to time management, just like the trick to dealing with a flooded basement, is in learning how to use your bucket rather than trying to find a bigger one. Effective time management means using the right strategy, not making more work hours available or working twice as fast or twice as hard. Effective time managers do not feel an obsessive need to fill every moment with productive work—quite the opposite. They envision and enact a rational plan that includes time for the expected, the unexpected, and the opportunities so that in the end, every moment can be used properly and profitably. They balance priorities, and they manage the needs of their colleagues. They recognize and accept that the in-box will never be empty. They go home at the end of the day knowing that they have done good work and that they will do more tomorrow.
They understand that control makes the difference. It paves the way for influence, productivity, and satisfaction. So let’s now start on the Cool Time path to success by first taking inventory.