For those, like me, who are suckers for productivity hacks, this isn’t another article about how to do more. Instead, it’s a grown-up acknowledgement of why some (most?) of the tricks and tips on how to live more efficiently haven't always worked for me, and why, in the spirit of trying something different, I’m committing to these five productivity shifts outlined below.
1. Learn by Doing
I’ll admit: I like (and it’s easier) to learn how to do something than actually do it. I read books on productivity instead of simply being productive. I sign up for writing seminars instead of just writing. I collect cookbooks and binge recipe videos, but as the people I live with can probably attest, there’s rarely Top Chef-level meals emanating from my kitchen. And don’t get me started on my stash of podcasts about meditation.
I figured I’d adopt a radically different approach this time: Learning by Doing. It’s awfully dull, I’ll admit. But the truth is, I’ve made more progress in a week of doing than a year of learning.
Sure, there is a learning curve before you can get started; you need some baseline knowledge.
You can’t truly meditate if you think all it requires is closing your eyes, especially after a lifetime of conditioning your brain to associate closed eyes with “go to sleep.” A course or a guided meditation app can give you the initial tools. But after that, it’s time to sit down to meditate and figure out what works and what doesn't. Eventually, if you find yourself plateauing, then sure, read some more, or attend a retreat to deepen your meditation practice. But what use is learning advanced meditation techniques if you can’t stay awake for a single minute with your eyes closed?
Start small. But most importantly, start. Already.
2. Stop Adding to the Pile
I’m a digital marketer’s delight. I love hitting the “Subscribe” button for emails, podcasts, seminars, events, gatherings, books—all sorts of stuff. Signing up for things is exciting.
You know what’s even more fun? The exercise I just did—counting the number of unread books I’ve bought in the last few months. Forty-two. As in, I have forty-two unread books (not counting the digital unread stack on my Kindle) staring at me this very minute from my bookshelf.
I’m no feng shui expert, but I’m pretty sure there is some serious energy drain happening with this unread pile of books (and the unattended piles of stuff everywhere). Even if you don’t buy into feng shui, I can confirm there is some bad juju here. Every time I accidentally make eye contact with these unread books, I get that sinking, way behind-in-life feeling.
I don’t quite have the heart to Marie Kondo my way through the unread pile just yet—put that to delusional optimism—but I’m moving these unread books to a rarely visited corner of my house with a promise that I’ll return to see them soon.
And I’m putting the kibosh on all forms of acquiring. I’m learning to make friends with the unsubscribe button. No more tossing recommendations straight into my library queue; instead, they now go into an ever-growing list of “Books I should read”. They’ll stay there until it’s their turn. One day. Hopefully.
I think it’s helping. The only book I care about now is the one in my hands. I feel calmer, lighter, even a little more productive, and definitely less frantic, and less self-berating.
3. Underpromise and Overdeliver
I love lists, and honestly, I don’t think I can function without one. But there’s one universal truth about my mile-long task lists: no matter how hard I try, there are always unchecked items at the end of the day.
At the risk of sounding pompous and arrogant, those lingering tasks aren’t always a reflection of my diligence, but a product of wishful thinking. I honestly try to work through my list most days, but I load it so optimistically that even a robot might roll its eyes at what I expect to accomplish.
The result? I go to bed feeling not accomplished, but lacking. Yes, yes, I know it’s wrong to measure life by accomplishments, yada yada. But on a practical level, bills need paying and laundry doesn’t fold itself. And it feels good to know you aren’t whiling your life away…
To make myself feel better, I’ve finally decided to apply the golden rule of consulting I’ve learned from my three decades as a consultant, to my own life: underpromise and overdeliver. Not just to others, but to myself. Especially to myself.
After years of trying to get too much done, and failing almost always, I’ve realized it’s better to finish a modest list and feel good than to drown in an ambitious one and feel wanting.
My lists are starting to look more realistic than impressive. I now acknowledge that a call to an overseas bank rep could take a hundred minutes, not ten. That’s how long it takes to battle through the phone tree, mash zero with increasing desperation, and—on the thirty-ninth attempt—somehow stumble into a human being who may or may not actually help me.
More importantly, setting practical rather than wishful goals for the day makes me look forward to the do nothing time I hope to have at the end of the day. After all, aren’t we much more than our task lists?
4. Adopt a 24-hour Moratorium
Sarkari Babus, as they were called in the old days, in India were known for their red tape and general malaise to doing anything. You’d send in paperwork, and it would promptly disappear into a pending abyss where it would just sit. Until someone decides, whether out of boredom, pure serendipity, or a flash of conscientiousness, to pluck it out of the pile and dust it off. Those were the halcyon days of lifetime employment and zero accountability. I’m not advocating a return to that era.
But I’ve taken a page from that playbook and adapted it to my own life. I’ve instituted a 24-hour moratorium on any new task, request, or shiny object that demands my attention. If someone emails me with a request, or I stumble upon an unmissable deal for an extremely cute, must-have, never-before-discounted handbag, opportunity, or networking event, I don’t jump on it immediately. It goes into a virtual pending tray to marinate for 24 hours, in my subconscious, I think.
If you’re someone with steelier willpower, consider stretching this waiting window to 48 hours, a week, a fortnight, or more. The longer, the better.
Delaying decision-making deliberately this way is the antidote to my FOMO and instant gratification instincts. Sure, I miss out on stuff, but at least I’m not cluttering my mind or my house with things I don’t need.
5. Let It Go
I don’t want to wade into the hottest topic in the zeitgeist—how AI is supposedly going to out-efficiency us all until we’re jobless, brainless, and bowing to our robot overlords.
But tell me: have you ever seen ChatGPT, Alexa, or Siri get mad? Do they stop answering if you throw insults their way, make faces, or second-guess not just what they say but what they might really be thinking? Of course not. They’re robots. By definition, devoid of emotion.
And no, I’m not suggesting we become robot-like ourselves. Quite the opposite. Emotions are the one edge we humans still have in this AI race. Great writing, or for that matter, any creative pursuit, works only because it makes you feel the feels, or capture the messy, sensory, emotional rollercoaster of human experience.
What we can learn from robots, though, is to learn to let things go.
The biggest productivity killer isn’t lack of talent or tools. It’s the emotional baggage, the stewing, resentment, overthinking spiral that kicks off when someone rolls their eyes, sends a curt text, or contorts their face during a conversation in a way we’ve decided must mean something.
When that happens, we’re suddenly not doing what we’re supposed to do. Instead, we’re ruminating, narrating imaginary dialogues in our heads while the offender goes about their day blissfully unaware.
It’s nearly impossible to be productive when you’re simmering or have a mournful background score like the one from Doordarshan days (only Indian-origin readers of a certain age may get this reference; others, if interested, please look it up) running in your head.
Learning to consciously let it go, even if it feels forced at first, pays off. Because time is short, and things need doing. Why waste another day inventing stories in your head when you could be putting them on paper, or better yet, channeling those feelings into something you’ll actually be proud of later?
By all means, move at a glacial pace. You know how that thrills me. Miranda Priestly, The Devil Wears Prada