Time Management, Introvert Style


I have an addiction.

Ok, I have a bunch, but this one is quirky.

Ok, I have a bunch of them too. For instance, I can’t stand eating with other people in restaurants. For one, I don’t like all of the people. Secondly, I don’t like having my back to other people. But most importantly, I HATE watching other people eat. And in a restaurant, not only are they eating, but most people are also talking…with food in their mouth.

But back to my original quirky addiction I was thinking about.

Time management.

Sounds normal, right?

I have four walls in my office. I get it, most people who have offices probably have four walls. But each of those walls has a calendar on them. And I use them all. My desk also has a Dilbert daily desk calendar. My computer has Outlook calendar. My work phone has its blackberry calendar synced to my computer Outlook calendar. I have a daily planner. I have a large dry erase board right next to one of my calendars with important dates listed on them.

And I have watches. A lot of them. A stupid amount of them. I wear them all.

Not at the same time cause that would be weird. Besides, both my work phone and personal cell phone have clocks on them. And both of my desk phones have displays with the time on them. Come to think of it, they also have the date. Score!

Most years I don’t realize that it’s my birthday. Is that weird?

Supposedly I am an INTJ. That means that I am focused upon strategic, long-term planning. That doesn’t sound like me at all…lol.

I was reading that INTJs typically utilize a “calendar” or “planner” in life. I added the quotes to highlight that calendar and planner was used in the singular tense.

With all of my quirks, I’m surprised I am not single too.

For some reason my wife (The Hippy) agreed to marry me. She’s never on time for anything (that may not be totally accurate). By “on time” I mean 15 minutes early (that is totally accurate). She never wears a watch, even though I’ve bought her plenty. Couldn’t tell you what day of the month it is, much less the day of the week. She strolls through life on her own time. Much like, well, a hippy I guess.

Of course, she knows that I am always a phone call away to give her that info. Or four phone calls if she wants to call each of my phones while I am in the office.

The point of this, if there really is one, is that even though the personality tests seem to be pretty accurate, don’t keep yourself in those walls. Even if they all have a calendar. Or a clock…I forgot to mention the clock on my wall. And on my desk.


Anyway, while we all have some similarities, we are all also different in our own ways. Some of us have addictions…er, quirks. But we are all unique.

In today’s unrest all around us, grouping all people together with generalized labels don’t seem to help solve anything.

Unless you are my wife…she’s totally a hippy.

Shopping at Costco


There I was, walking around Costco.

Since I wasn’t by myself, it was going to take much longer to shop.

No, I was with my Hippy wife and son, and also mother-in-law, father-in-law, and sister-in-law. They like shopping. In fact, they like shopping even if there is no intent to buy anything. Just get out and look around.

Not me. Apparently it showed.

“Are you bored yet?” the mother-in-law asked.

Before my filter turned on, I replied honestly, “Yes.”

You would have thought I told them over the loudspeaker (does Costco have one?) that I was having an affair. All eyes were on me (stupid filter needs to be faster) and the only person who didn’t look surprised, or hurt, or with lasers burning into me was the Hippy. She’s used to it.

“You don’t need to be here then.” I was told.


I stayed. I acted “not bored.”

I’m a good actor.

Instead I concentrated on looking for people I might know so I could avoid eye contact with them.

I will say, though, that at least at Costco the employees don’t swarm around me asking if I need any help. Usually they are swarming to the food samples. Ok, that was probably an overgeneralization and if you are a Costco employee reading this I apologize.

But seriously, you don’t have to bump into me to get in front for that sample. I’m not grabbing one anyway.

Unless you are extremely attractive…you can bump into me. Ok, maybe not. I will overanalyze it and think that you are either hitting on me (zero chance of that) or I am being set up by the Hippy to see my uncomfortable reaction while she laughs inside.

And out loud.

And then posts it on Facebook, Twitter, Snapchat, Instagram, Pinterest, text, mass email, YouTube, and Ellen.

Screw this; I’m going to non-judgmental Amazon.

Great, they even approach me with recommendations.

Hello World – and by hello I mean there you are…over there.

I am a professional introvert.

Ok…let me rephrase that. I am an introvert working in a professional environment. And I have been very successful in my field. I’m nowhere close to being a 1%er, but I am comfortable and have more responsibility than I deserve. I have been extremely fortunate. I’m not an actor, but 99% of people who know me would tell you that I am a “people person” or very much an “extrovert”.

I have them fooled.

I am a professional introvert.

I like to think of myself as a good planner. For instance, I know that the best time for me to use the break room to cook my Cup of Noodles for exactly one minute and 17 seconds is at 11:45. Not today. Today there was a lady sitting in there who I have never seen before. Can you believe I actually considered skipping lunch?

I took a chance. Of course she turned her head and allowed words to fall out of her mouth. In less than 90 seconds we had four conversations. “We” (she) talked about how there is no good news in the paper anymore. I tried my “go to” response of, “I know, right?”

Then she tried talking to me about war in the Middle East…I think I said something about how it’s been going on for generations, but by now I was already trying to use my imaginary powers to speed up time.

No, I haven’t tried the new sushi restaurant (they don’t deliver) and I have no idea when the Farmer’s Market opens for the season.


Three seconds before the microwave beeped I opened the door and left early. Yes, three seconds. That is how uncomfortable I was having a one-on-one conversation with someone I didn’t know. I felt more guilt about the noodles not having those final three seconds than the lady who obviously had more things to talk about.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not a social outcast. It’s just that I didn’t plan on meeting someone new, nor did I plan on having a conversation, much less four of them. So now I sit feeling like I just left a three hour board meeting…except I feel much more comfortable speaking in front of dozens of people.

It’s a fine balance working in an office setting as an introvert. For the most part, I make jokes about it. I talk about how I just need to make sure I’m on my meds (ok…no joking matter, I really do have some for anxiety), or how, “You know me, I just can’t stand people…ha ha!” There’s also that move of acting like I am talking on my cell phone. Just make sure the ringer is off. It IS a bit embarrassing to be “talking” on your phone when it rings.

Usually the local newspaper is sitting in the break room. Most times I will pick up a section and pretend that I am reading it when using the microwave. “Pretend” because I’ve already read it online. I’m not above putting on an act to avoid conversation. Unfortunately there is a different person who likes to stand next to me and read it as I am reading it. THE EXACT SAME SECTION. It doesn’t matter which section I have…if that person walks in and I am standing with the paper, so is he.

I’ve sat in an airport with my headphones on looking at my Kindle with the battery dead on my IPod. Yep, my ears could hear no music, but those headphones stayed on. Even that doesn’t work all the time.

Elevators are another issue. I will literarily slow to a stop just to wait for the next elevator with hopes I won’t have to go up or down. Or hold the door. Or feel guilty (ish) for pushing the close door button. I’ve even found that I can push the close door button and then push the alarm button to have the appearance that I “tried” to push the open door button, just hit the wrong one in my haste to open the door. Don’t worry, the alarm button doesn’t do anything but make a ringing sound. At least that’s all I think it does.

So there it is…my brief introduction to what I plan on “talking” about. As I look over this before hitting publish, I realize that I sort of sound like a dick. Yeah, well, perhaps that’s part of the reason people think we just need to “come out of our shells” or “try a little harder.” We can’t change who we are. It’s in our wiring. Yeah, I can fake it like no one’s business, but my shell is my battery charger. You don’t want to see me without my shell. I don’t want to see me without my shell.