The workplace hack that successful people swear by
High fliers swear by the new trend of planning every minute of the day. tries it
When did life become so hectic that a tea break must be scheduled? Don’t tell me you don’t schedule your tea breaks; in the work-harder-better-faster-stronger era, it’s all but obligatory. At least, if you’re microscheduling.
In case you haven’t heard, microscheduling is the modish new way to structure your existence. It means breaking down each day into pre-planned chunks of time so that almost every second is accounted for, and more is accomplished.
Certain high achievers swear by it. Elaine Lui, founder of celebrity news website Lainey Gossip, apparently divides each day into units of mostly 10 to 15 minutes. Three-minute slots are allotted for calls of nature.
The aim is to enhance productivity and minimise wasted time. Which makes sense in this age of infinite distractions. Microscheduling also makes sense as an attempt to regain control of our ever-busier lives.
As clinical psychologist Linda Blair says, “Making lists helps because we don’t feel in control these days. We feel everything’s a jumble because we’re receiving more information than we can cope with.”
Curious to see if microscheduling could help me bring order to the loosely scheduled chaos of my life, I decided to try it for a day. I chose not to schedule in loo breaks, as this felt just a tad too Stakhanovite, not to mention flawed as a concept. But the schedule went something like this:
7.20am: Rise and shower. Slept badly, so allowed myself an extra 15 minutes, jeopardising the whole microschedule before I’d even left my bed.
7.30am: Get dressed. Problematic since I was still snoozing.
7.45am: Get the children up. This happened at 8am. Further minutes were lost to petty arguments.
8am: Make breakfast. War over cereal threatened to derail things, but we got back on track.
8.30am: Brush everyone’s teeth and wipe breakfast off faces. Lost my son’s toothbrush, along with two minutes while I hunted for it. Also spent an unscheduled few minutes searching for change as his school had requested a £3 donation, the purpose of which was unclear.
8.45am: School run. The teacher explained she didn’t know what the £3 was for, so wouldn’t be collecting it. Good news, but I lost 30 seconds while this information was imparted.
Rosa Silverman
I had a lot to do, so spent a few minutes pondering this and not doing any of it
9am: Nursery run. Realised my bank card was missing from my pocket, so returned home to find it. Belatedly drove daughter to nursery, trying not to break the speed limit to keep up with my microschedule.
9.30am Commute to office. Missed my train, but luckily all trains were delayed. For once, this worked in my favour and I caught one that should have left 20 minutes earlier.
10am: Arrive at desk, write “work harder” on a Post-it and stick to my computer. I got this idea from Youtuber Casey Neistat, who has the words tattooed on his wrist. Neistat works a lot and sleeps very little.
10.10am: Stop flitting through emails and Twitter and accomplish something tangible. I had a lot to do, so spent a few minutes pondering this and not doing any of it. Opened Twitter four times to help me think.
1pm: Lunch at desk. I wasn’t hungry yet. Should I force myself to eat? I decided to wait 15 minutes.
2.30pm: Go to gym. I wanted to at 3.30pm, but I doubt my body knows or cares whether I exercise at 2.30pm or 3.30pm. It’s painful either way.
3.30pm: Continue working. Owing
to various delays, including an impromptu work phone call halfway through changing into gym wear, it was after 5pm by this point. Time to make an unscheduled cup of tea.
7.30pm: Arrive home and put children to bed. Travel chaos at the station scuppered best-laid plans.
8pm: Meet friend for a drink… And breathe.
Conclusion? My microschedule didn’t make me feel in control, it set me up for failure. The daily grind can be full of unexpected distractions: an unscheduled chat with a colleague; an extra bedtime story for a child; a meal that you want to linger over and enjoy. But it’s the spaces in our day that we can’t foresee and plan for that are often most rewarding in the end.