Yesterday I wrote that I don't keep a calendar, which doesn't mean I haven't tried. Paper and paperless, high-tech, low-tech and everything in between, I've been mesmerized by organizers of all types and the implicit promise that if I only I could really master this system, would I ever be organized, and how!
A technique popular at some companies these days is conducting what's euphemistically called "Lessons Learned" sessions after a project's completion, a kind of Monday morning quarterback session that has its benefits, especially when donuts are served. And so this evening I made a nice pot of tea, the better to consider the Lessons Learned from my many failed calendar experiments.
#1: JR Tolkien-Inspired Illustrated Date Book, circa 1980
This was my first date book; I was 16 or so. I can't imagine who may have given it to me, seeing as I gave the Tolkien books a rather wide pass; it may have been one of those Secret Santa things. While the content of the illustrations puzzled me, I appreciated the saturated colors and the glossy white pages nonetheless. Petting the smooth paper, I remember wondering what I could use it for. As my social life mostly consisted of playing nightly gin rummy games with my mother, I certainly didn't need a calendar to keep track of that. I decided to use it to write down assignments and note when the Future Business Leaders of America club had meetings, and I made a clumsy start of it, only to be horrified by the result: I felt as if I was defacing the book with my terrible, undisciplined scrawl. I went back to looking at the pictures, but having written in it kind of ruined the whole thing for me.
Grade: F
Lesson Learned: If a calendar, date book, organizer, or address book is Too Pretty To Write In, it's just not meant to be.
#2: Department Store Organizer, circa 1984
Before DayTimer, Day Runner, Franklin Covey, and certainly before Palm or Blackberry, there was the nameless department store product that took my breath away. It was my first, honest-to-God organizer, complete with pre-printed To Do, Calendar, and Address pages in a book like a binder, only smaller so you couldn't just punch some typing paper, stick it in there and call it a day. Not that I'd want to; these were the days before Windows, before Word, before printers, making the inserts ever more special. Plus these particular inserts were all mauve! With burgundy lettering! This was the 80's folks; you can't imagine how exciting mauve-colored organizer inserts were. I loved that organizer and set about using it with abandon. Apparently with too much abandon, as I soon ran out of the inserts and could not afford to replace them on my college girl's budget. I kept the organizer on my bookshelf for years. By the time I could afford to buy inserts on a regular basis, its time, along with mauve-colored inserts, had passed.
Grade: A range from what I remember. But that may be nostalgia talking.
Lesson Learned: It doesn't do any good to splurge on the initial investment if you won't be able to afford the maintenance.
#3: Spiral-Bound, Vinyl Academic Day Book, circa 1984
Having tasted organizer heaven, I decided I had to replace my glorious mauve organizer with something, if only to keep track of assignments and phone numbers. I found a cheap vinyl academic day book at the college bookstore. It was a huge let down compared to the Mauve Wonder, but I set about using it, and found it was actually pretty useful. Unfortunately, the more I used it, the more I wanted, specifically more space, which was a lost cause. Lists and notes, appointment reminders and assignments spilled over their allotted space, into the next day's, which in turn made for even less room for the next, until I finally threw up my hands and threw the thing out.
Grade: F
Lesson Learned: Zero expandability = zero usability
#4: Geodex Personal Management System, circa 1987
For a short time after graduating from college, I lived at home. Having never forgotten the Mauve Wonder, I turned my back on all but the most rudimentary organizing until the day my father came home with a smooth leather binder and even better, a leatherette box with every type of insert imaginable, with titles like "Delegation Control" and "Decision Makers/Problem Solvers". "What a bunch of junk!" he said. Apparently he'd been forced along with other executives to take a class on the principles of "personal management." "A total waste of time!" he opined before dumping the glorious bounty onto the kitchen table. "Do you want any of this?" Did I ever! 23 categories of inserts! The instructions alone were half an inch thick. I settled down and read the instructions as if they were directions to heaven written by God himself, then immediately starting setting up my system, happily clicking the binder open and close, open and close, as I shifted the contents about. Aside from the doll wardrobe my sister had sewed for me when I was eight, the Geodex was the best thing anyone had ever given me. The formerly beloved Mauve Wonder seemed babyish in comparison. This was the real deal! As far as organizers went, I felt as if I'd finally arrived.
When I moved, of course, of course, my Geodex came with me. I pleaded with my boss at my new job to buy me the expensive inserts and he did. He even bought the special hole-punch so I could make any paper Geodex-able. When he left the company, I opted for a package rather than a promotion and went to Italy with the proceeds. The Geodex came with me, along with the aforementioned stapler. By the time I returned to the States a year later, I was looking forward to stocking up on all my favorite inserts: the Key Result Planners! The Career & Life Goal sheets! The 26-column analysis page! In my absence, however, something horrible had happened: Geodex, apparently, had gone under. There was no sight, no sound, and certainly no Key Result Index Pages to be found.
At the time, I counted the demise of Geodex to be one of the top five worst things that had ever happened to me. It took years to recover.
Grade: A+ while it lasted F- when it didn't
Lesson Learned: Organizers are like men: no matter how amazing, intuitive, beautiful, sexy, smart and downright delightful they may be, a fly-by-night romance will only break your heart.
#5: DayRunner, circa 1992
It took a good year to get over the loss of the Geodex. Now a grown-up with a stable if uninteresting job, I could afford to buy my own organizer and inserts. I looked at Filofax, which I found too austere. DayTimer was a bit better, but liked DayRunner the best; the font had a youthful, energetic feel I found appealing. It came with a reasonable choice of inserts, even if compared to Geodex they seemed uninspired.
I liked it DayRunner well enough, but never felt the spark. I feel a little bad about it; Geodex was a tough act to follow. In Geodex days, I spent many happy hours curled up on the couch, updating my Key Result planner, which I realize now was probably a forerunner of Franklin Covey. I had liked it so much, organizing had been a pleasure, a fun and relaxing way to wind down at night, or to kick-start the day. With the functional but boring DayRunner, my routine of organizer maintenance began to crack. Organizing was again a chore. I couldn't keep it up.
Grade: C+
Lesson Learned: It's just not enough to be functional and dependable. You have to like the product enough to look forward to using it.
Tomorrow: PDAs and organizing software--more Lessons Learned in search of the perfect organizer.
