Time Management
I must admit I am more and more in a quandary about my personal time management. Am I a working guy or am I a retired guy or am I something in between? Do I really have to define myself so specifically and does anyone really care how I do that for whatever purpose? I am bothering to write about this because I suspect that while many people had cause to worry about this topic for years now, I suspect that it has only gotten worse in the work-from-home environment that COVID has brought so suddenly to our doorsteps. My first observation is to riff on the old adage that the clothes make the man. I would say that the clothes make the schedule. What I mean by that, especially now that the weather has cooled down to the point where I am inclined to wear long pants daily (not such an obvious choice for six or seven months of the year out here in Southern California), is that my choice of attire is a direct function of my schedule for the day and tends to set the tone for the entire day because I am a bit too lazy to change every time I have a scheduling change. If I am simply working around the house on outdoor projects and/or doing local errands, I am inclined to wear layered t-shirts usually with a long sleeve under a short sleeve. I call that the Social Network look since I remember Jesse Eisenberg dressing that way playing Mark Zuckerberg at Harvard.
If I have a miscellaneous Zoom meeting or have to go out to look like an adult for some reason, I wear the same pants (jeans, Duluth cargo pants or whatever), but I put on a tailored button-down long-sleeve shirt that ranges from something that looks business casual to casual casual (plaids and darker colors). That look covers a lot of territory that ranges between being online for any meetings or classes (if I am lecturing) or going out to look like someone worthy of a degree of purchasing or negotiating respect. This look is also about as dressed-up as anyone I know ever wants to get to for purposes of going out to dinner or some social visit (home or away).
In the category of dressing to impress I have three levels with dramatically declining frequency as they go. The first is to put on a tie with a dress shirt (I keep two ties, one red and one blue next to my office desk, just in case). This is particularly important while giving video testimony in expert witness work or for a particularly important meeting or presentation for my little hydrogen company. Remember, I am cast in the role of the Wall Street veteran and thus am usually expected to look that part. The funny part about that is that Wall Street people have been the leaders in the business casual trend and rarely wear suits and ties any more. That is especially the case with alternative investment people like hedge fund and private equity types. In fact, it is sort of a dead give-away that you are not on the inside of Wall Street if you try to look like you are with a suit and tie. Its a fine line to tread and you must be very cognizant of your audience. On one arbitration call (usually based in Kansas City), I would look out of place without a tie and it might hurt my credibility as an investment professional amongst a bunch of lawyers who probably feel that a tie is a symbol of stability and prudence. On another arbitration call, I got a heads up by watching the arbitrator (an ex-General Counsel of a major Fortune 50 company) make fun of an expert witness from Rochester who was dressed in suit and tie. Needless to say, I removed my tie with minutes to spare before it was my turn to go on screen. I have found one advantage in the tie program and that is that in the Kansas City gig I am asked to be available and in the on-deck circle to testify and answer arbitrators questions every week (they are doing 5-7 claimant arbitrations each week in groups and at that pace that’s something like 80 weeks worth and we have only done eight so far). My arrangement with the law firm is that whenever they need me I can charge two hours for prep and two hours for the hearing. This assumes they have teed me up to be available and does not depend on whether I am called or not. So far, I’ve been called six out of eight times. I always reference “taking my tie off” when I am told I can stand down. I find it does a good job or reminding the lawyers that they are paying for my availability and that there is a “cost” to me to be prepared to testify as much as to actually give testimony. They seem to respect this designation for some reason and it does a good job of signaling Kim as to whether I am “working” or “finished”.
I am not altogether certain exactly what type of event requires me to wear a suit and tie anymore. Those situations do exist, but I just can’t note at the moment exactly what they are. And then there are formal occasions. I do still have a tuxedo, but other than weddings and funerals and a rare symphonic or operatic event, that does not see a lot of use. Back when I was in the swing of running the private banking business at Bankers Trust, I was in that Tux weekly. Now I would say that it happens quarterly or less. And with the way that suits are going, I think that they may be used even less often. It gives me about five seconds of enjoyment dressing up for one reason or another, then I get over it quickly and remember how much better causal living is on a day-in-day ongoing basis.
But time management goes way beyond attire. One of the seemingly mundane decisions I have to make is when I think I may want to use the hot tub. That requires an hour or more of advance warming to get it comfortable to step into. I have an online scheduling function and I have just switched from an automatic heating schedule every morning to one every afternoon. Either way costs a fortune in propane, but I think I am getting to the point where I like it more later rather in the briskness of the morning. It sure felt nice yesterday after my six hours of riding to Yuma and back. I also find that should guests want to use the spa, they tend to favor the afternoon over the morning, so I think I am on safe ground with this schedule adjustment.
It is trite to say that our most valuable asset is our time, but it is very true. Let’s do the math. I will start with an average day of fifteen waking hours. I am deleting nine hours for both sleeping and pre and post ablutions that are necessary as a part of modern, socially-respectable life. Now a days I will assume that the average person like me spends twenty years in some form of education or other accounting for fifty hours per week. That is usually followed by something approximating forty years of fifty-hour weeks for forty-eight weeks a year. If we generously give ourselves an eighty-five year lifespan, that means that we have just a bit more than 320,000 hours to spend some way or another as we each choose. Strangely enough, those hours are very front-end and back-end loaded with the middle and most productive parts of our lives having the least amount of excess time to allocate. I just listened to Harry Chapin sing his famous Cat’s In The Cradle song where the man bemoans his lost prime of life when he ignored his son, who is now “grown up just like me” and unable to spare time for the father who has surfeit time in his twilight years. The message is clear, husband every second of your life, think about your time management, and keep your schedule open for life and you will have less to regret when you sit around wondering where it all went.