Early in my career, when my experience was mostly a shiny undergraduate degree, the fledgling online productivity culture made sense. I honestly didn’t know how to work in an office and manage all my responsibilities. I was able to say I didn’t know the answer to something and that I’d look it up, but I would always look it up and then go down a rabbit hole for more. It was during my near decade as the IT Manager for a small NYC law firm that I built my self-taught continuing education: reading every publication I could, magazines, newsletters, white papers. It was at that firm I learned that showing hours worked and a weekly project list with tasks completed were the keys to what I thought was success.
When I left to focus my support on solo and small creative businesses, I kept doing what I knew. Subscribing to every newsletter, downloading apps, signing up for new social media services. And showing how much, I had worked on that week and when I reached inbox zero. The structure was comfort. The learning was validation.
The productivity culture taught me something else: that busy meant valuable. That staying current was a virtue. If I reached inbox zero and crossed everything off my list, that would prove I was good enough. The productivity culture had given me permission to believe this mattered.
This structure of self-taught continuing ed and productivity essentially created a low-grade fear. I was petrified. If I wasn’t current on technology, trends, and what everyone else was doing, my clients would leave. I worried if I didn’t show how hard I was working for them at every available moment, they would not renew a contract. To be clear, I wasn’t lacking for work. My clients were my marketing; I had referrals I had to turn down. Everyone was pleased because I solved their problems.
Great. End of story. A happy ending.
What they didn’t see, and what I didn’t bring up, was that I could see more that needed to be done. I saw the root problems underneath the surface fixes. My clients were often convinced they had the wrong host or theme and changing it would solve all their problems. The reality was different. Sure, there’s speed gains from more efficient code and hardware. But that wasn’t what was actually holding them back. They all had more content than they knew what to do with, and their customers definitely didn’t. That digital clutter, as one example, led to lower engagement.
I knew this. I could see it clearly. But I was scared. I worried if I proposed beyond what I was asked to fix, they’d say no to the whole project. I needed clients. So, I did what was asked. I tried a few times to incorporate my concerns into a site audit and bring it up, but it often stayed as a line I never explained.
Throughout all of this, I also experienced a decade of parental eldercare (with a pandemic). Thankfully many of my clients had walked that road themselves. We supported each other through it. That decade was both comfort and noise. I had predictability of doing what was asked and little more, and amazing clients who understood what parental caregiving meant. I am truly grateful for that understanding. I didn’t have mental space for much else.
This past spring, that decade ended. One morning there was care; that afternoon, there wasn’t. The quiet space of shivah gave me time and space to think. Not only of loss, but of potential. In these months since, I’ve tried to carry forward that space to listen closer. Not to trends, but to what clients were asking for underneath the immediate problem that neither they nor I could easily articulate.
I’m listening more now. I’m giving myself permission to propose what I see. I want to have conversations about the patterns across a business, across all its people and technologies, about what’s holding things back. I truly want to help sites and businesses. This means looking deeper to find one small change that helps everyone succeed. It might be a small website fix. It may be a content editing checklist. The answer may even be something else entirely.
My learning and productivity these days is quieter. I no longer chase inbox zero. While I still keep up with the technologies I and my clients use, I’ve unsubscribed from many newsletters, deleted social media accounts, uninstalled apps. I’ve returned to writing by hand first. This is not as a productivity hack, and it’s very unlikely I’ll post to a social media account, but I use it for intentional thinking. Yes, I still use digital tools, they have their place. It’s not about reaching inbox zero; it’s about replying to what’s important. It is intentional thinking that happens when you slow down, I believe that is how we see what matters.
I’m still doing the work I’m known for, I won’t stop fixing what I need to. Now I prioritize space to listen and hear what’s needed for all of us to grow in our own ways. Most importantly, I’m no longer afraid to propose it.
