FOREWORD

Day, n. A period of twenty-four hours, mostly misspent.
—Ambrose Bierce

So about that internet meme, the one assuring our frazzled selves that everyone has the same twenty-four hours in their day as <insert entrepreneurial rock star here>.

I’d like to nip that bit of condescension in the bud and offer an emphatic, Not quite. While many of our business role models are in fact driven by a seemingly superhuman work ethic supported by 100+ hour work weeks, they nevertheless have an advantage over us mere mortals. While the number of minutes available to us each day might be the same, control over what we do with those hours differs significantly. When Elon Musk is faced with too much work-in- progress (WIP), he has the authority to delegate, deprioritize, or simply say no. When variation rears its head and a well-thought- out strategic plan no longer aligns with the organization’s needs, Sheryl Sandberg has the ability to switch gears. And when Jeff Bezos is confronted with conflicting priorities, it is likewise doubtful he needs to seek direction via a convoluted bureaucracy to gain clarity over which course to follow.

When these things happen to us (and let’s face it, they often do), we’re faced with a very different set of repercussions than those of our billionaire counterparts.

So what about us? In the absence of unbridled agency and an extensive support staff, how do we do all that needs to get done, when it needs to get done, without sacrificing quality or our sanity in the process? In a culture that exalts productivity and perpetuates the mythology of multitasking, how do we maximize our time and our workflow to the point that our effort and our energy yields the greatest impact? Most importantly, how do we do all of that and still have time for living?

Time saved. Time spent. Time wasted. We frame conversations about time much in the way we do money. Ostensibly “free” but nevertheless invaluable, time is arguably one of the most precious resources we have, yet one we never seem to have enough of as individuals, as teams, or as organizations.

Anyone who has ever been faced with a deadline can certainly relate to Parkinson’s Law: work expands to fill the time available for its completion. Let’s be honest—when was the last time you completed quality work days or even hours ahead of deadline?

You’re not alone.

It seems we’re constantly doing, but doing what exactly? Why are our weeks filled with days where we return home exhausted, only to lament how we’ve barely made a dent in our to-dos? Like the elusive sock that mysteriously goes missing in the laundry, where do those lost hours go? Who—or rather what—is responsible for stealing our time, our focus, our energy?

The attempt to harness or “keep time” is in no way a modern or even premodern convention. Prehistoric humans tracked the phases of the moon. The Sumerians created the sexagesimal numeral system still in use today, employing sixty to divide the hour into minutes and then minutes into seconds. The Egyptians used obelisks to calculate the length of shadows cast by the sun. The shortcomings of solar-based measures became apparent the moment clouds appeared or the night sky arrived and so with clepsydras—or water clocks—the Persians and Greeks offered an alternative, monitoring water flow instead to measure the passage of time.

With these ancient time-tracking tools came the earliest forms of scheduling—when to plant crops and bring in the harvest, when to conduct commerce, and when to perform daily rituals such as eating or sleeping.

Fast forward to today. Despite all our modern “conveniences,” effective time management has for many become an uphill battle, an all-consuming if not quixotic goal. While the Information Economy ushered in 24/7 connectivity, it likewise begot round-the-clock expectations, and so, paradoxically, technology like mobile phones and email and video conferencing—tools that would ostensibly make life easier—often enslave us. We allow the chaos of modern work coupled with an often paralyzing number of options at our disposal to overload us, to distract us, to stealthily steal our time and focus and ultimately impede our effectiveness.

We tend to fetishize the complex, but just as the earliest solutions for tracking time were both easily implemented and yielded extraordinary results, so too are the ideas detailed in Making Work Visible: Exposing Time Theft to Optimize Work & Flow. Much in the way sky, sun, sticks, and sand provided ancient man actionable, visual feedback, so too do the suggestions Dominica outlines in the pages that follow.

It should come as no surprise that we can better manage what we can see. When we can’t see our work, our options are obscured. We’re blind to our own capacity and we certainly can’t communicate that capacity to others. The resultant mental overload creates stress. Stress compounds the work we already have, essentially contributing to WIP, compromising the ability to focus, prioritize, make decisions, and complete work with quality, let alone complete work at all.

The visualization and WIP-limiting strategies Dominica offers demystify our cognitive load; normalize expectations among team members; promote focus; situate work in its context, surfacing problems (and allowing for solutions to be made) in real time; and provide a clear path to completion with quality. Elegantly explained and deeply-insightful, the utility of the suggestions contained within cannot be overstated.

To be sure, it is no small irony in that I’m writing about “time theft” while spending a week aboard a sailboat exploring an archipelago in the Salish Sea beholden only to “island time.” It’s the first holiday where I’ve intentionally left my watch at home, instead choosing to be fully present to the wildlife and seascapes around me: bald eagles and peregrine falcons soar high above craggy bluffs where the pristine coastline meets old-growth forests. Otters gracefully propel themselves through the glassy surf, disrupting kelp and eelgrass in search of their next meal. Along the rockier parts of the shore, scores of sea lions loll in the sun, as hauled-out harbor seals nurse their spotted pups on a secluded beach nearby. A congregation of boats idling in the distance serves as a familiar sign, and it’s not long before I too glimpse a family of orcas perform for their Nikon-wielding audience (affectionately known by locals as the “pod-parazzi”) on crystalline jade waters that seemingly end at a cerulean blue sky.

If there was ever a place where I’ve given less thought to watching the clock, it is in this Pacific Northwest jewelbox known as the San Juan Islands.

This is precisely why Dominica’s book is so important. Our culture of overwork, our obsession with productivity versus effectiveness, our default mode of existing rather than living—these things aren’t simply unnatural and unhealthy, they’re unsustainable—for the individual, for the team, for the organization’s bottom line.

The thoughtful observations and easily implementable suggestions Dominica offers are the first step in helping create habits that lead to a virtuous cycle of healthy, sustainable, and improvable work. Work in which we experience more clarity, less stress, increased focus, improved decision-making, manageable workloads, and, by extension, a more fulfilling work day, which in turn affords us the slack needed to fully live our lives rather than simply chase productivity.

So while technically we have the same number of hours in a day as <insert entrepreneurial rockstar here>, it’s creating thoughtful work systems that make us cognizant of what we use those hours for during the workday. And it is what those hours afford us the opportunity to do when we leave the office that makes for a fully integrated life.

Indeed, time is sacred. Treat it as such. Visualize your work. Limit the amount of work you take on. Pay attention to its flow. Build thoughtful work systems to reflect what really matters.

To breathe. To think. To learn. To grow. To play. To love. To live.

For it is in working well that we can live well. I am confident the wisdom Dominica offers in the pages that follow is the first step to achieving such existence so that you too can begin to experience less stolen time and instead plan for more island time.

Tonianne DeMaria
Orcas Island, Washington