Project Inbox Zero

I've gotten to know and love Merlin Mann first through the MacBreak Weekly podcast, and from there I got to know his 43 Folders web site. He's a bit of a productivity guru, though I use that word reluctantly. He has none of those annoying "salesman"ish qualities that turn me off to most of the Tony Robbins/Dr. Phil types. He's very laid back, almost suggesting to you that you can try this if you want, it worked for him, but no biggie. I hear that message better than the "I am going to change your world!" quasi-brainwash bullshit that so many self-help types like to effect.

One of Merlin's latest things is called Inbox Zero. And God knows this is a place where I totally need help. The In box is totally out of control.

So, starting today, through his suggested actions, I have done the following:

1. I moved all my In box email prior to today to a box called "DMZ." (More on that in a moment.)
2. I am checking my mail only once an hour (at most), and
3. I am taking care of everything in my In box each time I do check my mail.

This last step is where the real change is: Merlin suggests that when you look at your In box, there are five possible actions for each email:

1. Delete it. He recommends doing this as much as possible.
2. Archive it.
3. Delegate it. Again, highly recommended, if possible.
4. A Quick Response. (See FiveSentenc.es for an idea on this!)
5. Defer it. A tricky one, but the idea is to defer it only for the day -- to move it to an "Action" folder, which you deal with by the end of the day.

Well ... So far, so good. We'll see how it goes in the long run.

As to the DMZ folder, my goal is to get rid of 100 emails in there per day, on work days. That's 500 a week. I started this on Friday night, while sitting around the ER listening to my wife's Pulse-Ox meter beeping.

On 8/24/07: 4,372 emails in the DMZ.

Last night (8/26/07), when I went to bed: 4,272 messages.

*sigh*

We'll see how this project shakes out.

(You can watch progress on the DMZ mailbox in a module in the righthand column of this blog.)

Scenes from the E.R.

"Did you hear that?" Laura asked.

I looked up from my book. I said I hadn't heard.

"They call me 'Chest Pain.' They just said, 'I need to call Chest Pain's doctor.'" The "They" in this case were the E.R. workers on the other side of the curtain. We were in Room 1.

She went back to her Harry Potter book, but I couldn't resist my own interruption: "Funny. I always just call you 'The Chest.'"

She giggled and added: "I thought the rest of the family just called me 'The Pain.'"

***

"I'm the EKG Guy."

We looked up from aforementioned books.

Oh. My. God.

A stunning fellow. As he hooked up the EKG, my wife made huge eyes at me, and mouthed: Why didn't I shave my legs?!

His work done, he unplugged the machine and headed out. "I'm Mark," he said.

"I'm Laura," my wife said.

"But you can just call her 'Ms. Chest Pain,'" I added. He laughed, and for the rest of the night, that's exactly what he called her.

The curtain closed again, Laura exclaimed, "Did you see his teeth?"

I said, "I never got past the eyes. His name is 'Mark.' I'm not sure I can live up to my name any longer. I may have to change it."

She laughed.

"So ..." I said, "I wasn't sure what the appropriate thing to do was. Would you have preferred that I left the room and left the two of you alone?"

***

You have to look for the humor anywhere you can on those long nights in the emergency room. All this from a somewhat false alarm on some chest pains. Since she had had recent gall bladder surgery, the pain raised red flags. But all tests were negative. Still, since it was a Friday night, they kept her overnight. They'll stress-test her this a.m., and the kids will have their Mom back by noon, we expect. Which is good, 'cause we're treating ourselves to a Rufus Wainwright concert tonight. That'll do the heart some good.


***


"Okay, Ms. Chest Pain," said Mark as he wheeled the chair into the room. "You've got a room."

"Question," I asked. "What's a 'Code Gray?'" A few minutes before, we had heard a hospital-wide alert that Room 5945 had a "Code Gray."

Mark smiled. And me without my SPF 45. "That means behavioral disorder. Someone acting up."

A few minutes later, we depart the elevator, and I realize that Laura's room is just a few doors down from ... wait for it ... Room 5945. A bevy of nurses stand outside the door of the room. Two doctors are inside. A patient lies in bed. He is moaning. No, he is screaming.

As the nurse's assistant takes my wife's vitals, she suggests that perhaps Laura will want to keep her door closed until they "figure out what we're going to do with him."

It was a long night for Laura.

***

Zuzu woke up last night when I got home, so I just took her into bed with me. She's an excellent snuggler, doing her best to wrap her arms around me in the dark.

"I miss Mommy," I whispered.

Without hesitation, she said back: "Flowers will make her feel better."

I laughed. I couldn't stop. And the tears came up at the same time. The rigors of the long night were catching up with me. That, and I can't believe how sensitive — and astute — this two-year-old is.

"Shall we go get Mommy flowers tomorrow?" I asked.

"Mommy will like that," my daughter said. She yawned.

"Where did you come from?" I asked.

Whispering now, fading away, Zuzu only commanded: "Rub ... my ... back."

A metaphor for our times?

Essentially, the problem is: Through intent and capability, we have a Superbowl-quality NFL football team: 300-pound guys, run the 40 in 4.3, they bench-press 550 pounds. We've got a lot of them, and they're good. And the door opens in the gym, and they go outside ... and the problem is, it's water polo. And they're going against the guys — I mean little guys — 130, 140 pounds, wearing goofy hats, swim like fish, and they're throwing a ball, and that's how they keep score.

That's Cofer Black (my emphasis added, but from his vocal inflections), a former director of the CIA's Counterterrorist Center. He was speaking at a fascinating multi-day conference held at Tufts University back in March, called "The War On Terrorism: How Are We Doing?" (a title that created its own controversy within the conference, by the way).

If you're interested, podcasts of the main sessions are available for free via iTunes, on the University Channel Podcast page. It's a lot of listening — over ten hours — but I haven't gotten a clearer picture of the situation from any other source.