Time

What do you feel when looking at your daily calendar?

When the calendar is blank, with nothing written on it, you feel fantastic. Endless possibilities. The day is yours. Peace and tranquility reign.

You can take your time with breakfast, perhaps take a chance on something different (bagel today? or cinnamon toast?);  leisurely scan through the morning news, maybe even look at a few web comics to see what old Dilbert has been up to; wander through the house taking a look at the windows to decide if you need to pull the drapes or curtains open and let a little sunlight in, get a little extra vitamin D; take a little stroll through the garage to see if there is something interesting you forgot to do the night before, like putting away a tool or two, or breaking down some boxes for recycling; then engage the family in some conversation as you are all getting ready for your respective work or educational duties. And then you head off to work with a smile on your face.

It's a wonderful day.

Until.

Email from the boss. He wants to have a status meeting at 11. Can you prepare a quick report on progress?

Now the calendar is no longer blank. There is an event  on it. You feel slightly annoyed. There is a smudge, a stain on your perfect day.

The previously wonderful expanse of emptiness has been marred by an unwanted interruption. Now it must be subdivided into three separate intervals: the Before, the During, and the After. In the Before section, there is an automatic anxiety about the things you must do to prepare for the Event that is scheduled to occur, including the invention of clever ways of explaining your complete and utter lack of progress. In the During section, you'll face the actual interaction with your boss (and peers) where your meaningless gibberish will be tossed about like a virtual pinball into the playing fields of their minds, bouncing up and down and all around, striking bells and buzzers and bumpers and posts and making all manner of noise until it falls into the drain of oblivion and the boss decides whether the score is sufficient to allow your continued employment, or the machine tilts you into the abyss along with the ball; thereafter, upon the conclusion of the meeting, you (hopefully) breathe a sigh of relief and move on with the rest of your day. Which is the After.

But this After has become significantly shorter. And a slight anxiety pinches you in the gut as you realize that the number of hours allotted to the accomplishment of meaning and justification for your existence has been lessened.

But at least the meeting is over. There is now a little bit of time to calm yourself, to relax before launching once again into the maelstrom of productivity.

And then -

A phone call. Or text.

Someone needs you to run an errand. Nothing critical, just a spur-of-the-moment invitation from the gang at the office to go grab a quick bite at the local fast-food establishment; or a quick run to the grocery store to pick up something that has been forgotten at home; or perhaps a call to the doctor to make an appointment about that health issue that's been bothering you; or an item of mail that needs to be sent out before the afternoon pickup (because it's been sitting in the glove compartment of the car for a week).

An errand. At lunchtime.

Lunchtime is not sacrosanct. It is merely an invisible marker in the middle of the day intended to provide a breather, a catch-up, a moment of pause to refresh the mind, the body, the soul. It is normally a time to sit at one's desk and turn away from the business of busy-ness to peruse the Internet, re-connect with the non-commercial aspect of life, read a few essays, check the blogs, finally finish reading that article on The Black Plague you've been from the History website (because that always makes lunch taste so much better!). Perhaps even a time for a little physical refreshment. A quick walk around the building. A few times up and down the stairs to get the blood pumping.

Adding in a little errand won't have a significant effect. It will only require a few minutes. Five. Or ten. Or fifteen. Or twenty. Depending on the distance and complexity of the mission. Five minutes to the car, fifteen minutes on the road, ten minutes on the errand, fifteen minutes back to the office, five minutes up the stairs to the office. Give or take a few minutes here and there. Plenty of time to run out, complete the errand, then return to the office as though nothing happened.

The minutes add up. Suddenly an entire hour has gone by, and then you're back at the office with only half the day left to get anything accomplished.

And the anxiety level creeps up. So much to do, so little time.

But it's OK. You're back in the office, all settled in and ready to resume the work-day and get something done. Relax. Relax. There is still that lovely blank afternoon for accomplishing all those tasks sitting on your plate.

And then...

This guy appears at your desk. Mike. He's having difficulty with an assignment. You're not surprised. He's a nice enough person. Young, a little inexperienced, but fun to talk to, eager as a beaver, fresh and fun and full of ... dare I say it? ... naïveté. He is not going to figure this one out on his own.

He needs help. From you.

Not right now. You've got some of your own stuff to finish up. Can we get together in a little while? Say, at 2 pm? That should give you enough time to lock down the task you're working on so you'll be able to pick it up afterward.

How long will this session with Mike take? No idea. Better plan for at least an hour. You'll have to dredge some thing out of your memory banks.

This day is getting a bit more broken up now than anticipated. You have a little less than an hour before the meeting with Mike, but in that time, you'll need to do a bit of research, refresh your memory on what he is working on and what information he'll need from you. And you'll need to figure out the best way to present it.

Because he might not get it at first. He's a kid in his twenties who knows everything (because he's been to college and he's been working for a couple years in the industry) and you're an old fuddy-duddy who's over the hill, still stuck in the days of DOS, who can't possibly understand all these new-fangled programming techniques. Oh, he knows you've been around, he knows you've got a lot of experience, he knows you know a lot of things - but part of the reason he can't figure this out for himself is because he just doesn't have the long-range perspective of a person in your (very old) shoes.

So you can't just stroll over to his desk and explain it like you're talking to an idiot. Because he's not an idiot. He's -- well, he's like you were, way back in 1985. Young, full of yourself, eager to make your way in the industry, looking around at all these old gray-haired fossils and wondering when they were going to get out of my way so you could really show them what's what.

So you take some time to prepare yourself for the meeting with Mike. You don't just wing it. You want it to go smoothly.

But it's hard. Because that anxiety level has crept up again. Time is ticking. Precious time.

So you meet. And you talk. For quite a while. And he finally gets it. Mostly. And you both go away happy.

Until you get back to your desk and see the note left on it. The boss wants to talk about the schedule. Something has changed. The customer is getting antsy, or the vendors are delayed getting the new parts to the lab, or the subcontractors have run into a problem and won't be able to start testing on time. Either way, things are going to need some adjusting, and you're going to need to have all the information right at your fingertips. Which means doing some serious research before the meeting.

At 4.

There goes the rest of the afternoon.

And the blood pressure.

Goes.

Up.

Anxiety.

Builds.

And sometimes things start to really stack up.

Your wife needs you home by 6 for dinner because (as she reminds you) the Association meeting is tonight at 7 and they'll be voting on that green belt proposal you were so hot about last month.

The kids have a concert at 8 and you promised them you'd be there.

You promised your wife you'd get to bed on time tonight so you wouldn't be so cranky in the morning.

And now you look at your schedule, and this is what you see:

The day is completely filled up. There is no time. There is no rest. No relaxation.

No chance to hide away from the world, to shrink into a corner and get away from the constant over-stimulation of life, no opportunity to find a quiet corner to sit and think and just be.

* * *

Now imagine that every day is like that. Full of things that need to be done. Full of tasks that must be accomplished. One after another, stacked on top of each other, from now on to infinity.

The world is overwhelming. It's always on. Full blast. Noisy. People talking, people gesturing, people needing. Expecting action from you. Expecting solutions from you. Expecting miracles from you.

Is it any wonder that that you struggle with high blood pressure? With anxiety? With headaches?

No. It's a wonder you can function at all.

There are some people who thrive on this kind of lifestyle. Stress, pressure, adrenaline rush - they crave it like some people crave sugar. They actually work better when under pressure. These are the Type A personalities. They're the same kind of people who get a thrill out of climbing mountains, jumping out of airplanes, leading expeditions to Antarctica.

Then there are those of us on the opposite end of the spectrum who thrill to a good book, a warm fire, a hot cup of tea, and a day with absolutely nothing on the schedule. Who see a large, boisterous crowd of people watching a football game and head in the other direction. Who can't for the life of us understand the attraction of parties and bars and rock'n'roll concerts.

Who get completely stressed out when looking at a full calendar.

But -- I hear you say -- that calendar isn't even close to being full! There are gaps all over the place! There's plenty of time to rest, to relax, to contemplate.

Yes, it is true that there are gaps in the calendar, moments here and there between scheduled events in which it might be possible -- for some -- to relax, to kick back, to think, to plan, to dream. But for some of us, the mere fact that there are other things, other events which are due to occur very soon completely negate any possibility for relaxation in-between them. Those gaps are filled with anxiety and worry and panic about the upcoming events: will I be ready? will I be late? will I have enough time to prepare? will I embarrass myself in front of everyone? will I lose my job?

[Part 1 of 2]