Tuesday, March 29, 2005

Lately I have been thinking about how email can be a drag on productivity, rather than a boost. As one of our management coaches said, some people make a career out of simply responding to emails. It would certainly occupy your whole day.

Whenever I send a meeting request to my sales team, I monitor the response rate. The same 3 or 4 people respond almost immediately every time. The same 2 people usually ignore me, and the other 4 trickle in over the course of a few hours.

The quick response rate I attribute to Attention Deficit Trait, a new syndrome diagnosed by Dr. Edward Hallowell. At any one time, most of my team will be speaking on the phone, typing an email, surfing the web and carrying on at least one instant messenger conversation, so my email requests never come at a time when they are completely idle.

I agree with Hallowell's reasons about its ineffectiveness and why people find it addictive:

No one really multitasks. You just spend less time on any one thing. When it looks like you're multitasking--you're looking at one TV screen and another TV screen and you're talking on the telephone--your attention has to shift from one to the other. You're brain literally can't multitask. You can't pay attention to two things simultaneously. You're switching back and forth between the two. So you're paying less concerted attention to either one.

I think in general, why some people can do well at what they call multitasking is because the effort to do it is so stimulating. You get adrenaline pumping that helps focus your mind. What you're really doing is focusing better at brief spurts on each stimulus. So you don't get bored with either one.

Full interview is here.

After having slagged my team on this issue, I must come clean as being the worst starter of tasks that never get completed.

1 comment:

Alcuin Bramerton said...

A traditional Norfolk koan may assist:



Yet another unavoidable day
Of eye-achy
Head-achy
Soul-achy
Inert
Hyperdepression.

She is sitting in the office
Looking at her computer screen.
The computer screen is sitting in the office
Looking at its human.

As they look at each other,
They know.
Each knows.
They both know
That this cannot go on.
Neither is committed
To the relationship.

She wants a life,
Not a computer.
She is fed up with word processing,
Spread sheets,
Screen-based presentations,
Databases,
Multiple emails,
And slow, boring, unremitting,
Undead cyberfatigue.
She wants a life,
Not a computer.

And the computer wants a proper human,
A proper high-octane geek,
Not a froth-head dollybird
Who thinks of nothing but love
And fulfilment
And fresh air
And mountains
And purpose
And horses
And swimming
And surf
And sun
And dolphins
And long nights of passion
In wild country
Under the stars.
The computer wants a proper human.

In the end they agree
To a trial separation.
The trial separation will last for
Five and a half million years.

This will be sufficient time
For humans
To become a little more
Metalloid and logical,
And for machines
To become a little more intuitive
And accustomed to pleasure
For its own sake.

Before they separate,
They leave each other
A parting gift.

The computer gives its human
The source codes for the matrix.

The young woman gives her computer
A wholemeal blueberry muffin
Stuffed lovingly into its DVD drive.



More may be encountered:
http://alcuinbramerton.blogspot.com/2004/11/traditional-norfolk-koans.html