Down to the minute
High achievers swear by planning entire day in small segments
When did life become so hectic that a break must be scheduled? 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 means breaking down each day into planned chunks of time so that almost every second is accounted for.
Certain high achievers swear by it. Elaine Lui, founder of celebrity news website Lainey Gossip, apparently divides each day into units of 10 to 15 minutes.
The aim is to enhance productivity and minimize wasted time, which makes sense in this age of infinite distractions.
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, I decided to try it for a day.
7:20 a.m.: Rise and shower. Slept badly, so allowed myself an extra 15 minutes, jeopardizing the whole microschedule before I’d even left my bed.
7:30 a.m.: Get dressed. Problematic, since I was still snoozing.
7:45 a.m.: Get the children up. This happened at 8 a.m. Further minutes lost to petty arguments.
8 a.m.: Make breakfast. War over cereal threatened to derail things.
8:30 a.m.: Brush everyone’s teeth. Also spent an unscheduled few minutes searching for change as my son’s school had requested a small donation.
8:45 a.m.: School run. The teacher explained she didn’t know what donation was for, so she wouldn’t be collecting it. Good news, but I lost 30 seconds while this was imparted.
9 a.m.: Nursery run. Realized my bank card was missing, so returned home to find it.
9:30 a.m. 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.
10 a.m.: Arrive at desk, write “work harder” on a Post-it and stick to my computer.
10:10 a.m.: 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.
1 p.m.: Lunch at desk. I wasn’t hungry yet. Should I force myself to eat? I decided to wait 15 minutes.
2:30 p.m.: Go to gym. I wanted to at 3:30 p.m., but I doubt my body knows or cares whether I exercise at 2:30 p.m. or 3:30 p.m. It’s painful either way.
3:30 p.m.: Continue working. Owing to various delays, including an impromptu work phone call, it was actually after 5 p.m. by this point.
7:30 p.m.: Arrive home and put children to bed. Travel chaos at the station scuppered best-laid plans.
8 p.m.: 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.
But it’s the spaces in our day that we can’t foresee and plan for that are often most rewarding in the end.