I used to be a much more organized person. I jokingly blame the chaotic condition of my desk and countertops on the fact that I reside in the unorganized tax district of Grand Marais. But truthfully, it’s just that I no longer have the time and energy to keep up with filing.
Years ago, I made a fresh start on my filing at the beginning of each new year. I would take my 12 neatly marked manila folders out of my filing cabinet, put them in a banker’s box and tuck it away in a closet for safe keeping. I would then label 12 new manila folders and refill my file cabinet drawers. Each month as I paid the bills—precisely on the first and 15th of course—I would file my copies in the appropriate month’s folder. I had a few extra folders for product warranties, my kids’ school documents, health insurance information, etc. I very seldom got behind in my filing and if I did, I’d spend a weekend day getting caught up.
But somehow, I’ve lost control of the bills and credit card receipts and insurance forms and bank statements and so on. In my once incredibly organized file cabinet are folders filled with information several years out of date. My filing system now consists of the entire year of records stuffed in a Clementine orange crate.
Thishas been going on for a few years now—there are three Clementine crates stacked up on the desk in our guest room. I realized I was losing the battle to get organized at Christmas time when I bought some Clementines—and instead of thinking how delicious the tiny oranges would be, I thought to myself, “It’s that time of year again. I need another little crate for my bills.”
So, I was delighted when I learned that the Minnesota Newspaper Convention I attended at the end of January offered a workshop with an organizational expert. I joined my unorganized colleagues from other newspapers and listened as the highly effective instructor talked about physical, mental, and emotional clutter and the need to clean it all up.
The efficient speaker passed out a “productive environment scorecard.” It included 15 questions with the customary directions— circle the number that most closely approximates your current status. The test asked if I waste lots of time looking for papers I need; if I have enough space in my office; if I have a systematic method for purging outdated papers. It asked if it is difficult for me to manage interruptions and prioritize my workload and if I am frequently overwhelmed by what I need or want to do.
I circled the numbers that most closely approximated my current condition and added as directed. My score was 38. I fell in the 15-46 point range. The test instructions told me to “Get help immediately!”
Not very encouraging, I thought, but that is why I was at the workshop. I listened and took notes and considered the cool organizational tips and gadgets the enthusiastically organized instructor promoted. I found myself agreeing with much of what she said. A clutter free desk would decrease anxiety.
I thought about how to achieve a clutter free desk. I decided I needed to somehow construct a counter near my desk, an “L” offshoot that could be used as a flat surface.
Then I realized I am probably hopeless. My next thought was, “Great—I can use that flat surface to make room for the piles of stuff on my desk!”
One person’s mess is merely
another person’s filing system.
Margo Kaufma
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