The unloved productivity paradox

For the past two weeks, I've been using a speech-to-text app on all my devices to write my texts, my messages, my notes, my ideas as they come. I've never liked typing on a computer keyboard, even less so on a phone. I always feel like I'm wasting my time, moving at the speed of my clumsy fingers instead of the speed of what's trying to come out of my head. Wasting time and energy that could go elsewhere.

Talking to my devices instead of typing on them is a small gesture. But what it frees up is not small. I figure I'm recovering at least 3 hours a week. Over a year, that literally adds up to a full month of work. A real productivity gain.

And noticing this got me asking myself a question that's stuck with me ever since: why does talking about productivity, in our workplaces, make so many people uncomfortable?

A word that makes people bristle

I say the word "productivity" in a conversation, and often I see eyes roll. Sometimes a little sigh. As if I had just suggested we exploit people, add an hour to the day, squeeze everyone a little harder.

Are we really talking about the same thing?

Because productivity isn't about producing more. It's about making better use of the energy we put in to get a result. The ratio between what goes into a process and what comes out. Not the number of hours worked. Producing the same with less. Or producing better with the same.

A paradox that nags at me

I wonder whether the same people who roll their eyes at talk of productivity aren't also the ones (and I count myself among them) who find it unacceptable that:

• our schools are falling apart,

• our healthcare system is buckling under pressure,

• thousands of people have nowhere to live and end up on the street,

• we're struggling just to maintain our basic public infrastructure, down to our water supply.

  
  

What if part of the problem were precisely a productivity deficit? Not a shortage of hours worked. A lack of efficiency between what we collectively pour into our systems (money, energy, time, talent) and what comes out of them.

I'm not saying it all boils down to that. In Quebec in particular, I think we also have serious work to do around accountability, around the responsibility we take (or don't) for the results of what we do. But that's another conversation.

And what do we do with the time we free up?

Maybe that's the question I find most interesting.

Because once we accept productivity for what it is, we still have a choice. With the time and energy we free up, we can:

• produce even more (and that's often the reflex), or

• reinvest elsewhere.

And "elsewhere" could mean:

• cooking a real meal, with fresh produce from your garden,

• taking the time to talk with the person sitting alone at the corner café,

• keeping your little stretch of sidewalk clean,

• planting a tree,

• volunteering,

• taking care of your physical and mental health,

• caring for the people you love.

• 
  

That choice, nobody can make for us.

Questions, more than answers

I don't pretend to have the answer. Mostly, I find myself wondering:

What if our discomfort with the word "productivity" were quietly preventing us, collectively, from taking care of what matters?

Where in your daily life or your organization do you see energy being wasted that isn't due to a lack of work?

And if you had the choice,