The days are starting to turn into one long brain nap. My diary keeps filling up until every hour of every day is triple booked with meetings. The most pointless meetings imaginable. I picture the scene from The Princess Bride where ‘The Machine’ was sucking the life force out of Westley. Depending on the topic of the day it can take anything from 1 to 50 years of my life.
It’s become soul crushing and where I once rushed between meetings, bursting through doors with apologies for getting out of the last meeting 2 mins late, I now amble between glass offices with the energy of a depressed sloth.
And I’ve fallen into the trap. I know you know it. The one where they (whoever ‘they’ are) have you convinced that you’re not doing enough. Maybe you need to work on your time management, I think. So I’ve read the books, worked through the management training homework and delegated until my team roll their eyes when they see me open Outlook. But the faster you move things off your desk the faster they’ll find more work for you to do.
As my little old nana would say ‘if you need something doing, give it to a busy person.’