You have probably read many tips on productivity.
Gurus and consultants promise you will get everything done if you just monotask, attain inbox zero, drink a shot of apple cider vinegar first thing in the morning, and sign up for their newsletter at $29.99/month.
But someone greater than the productivity brigade is here.
Chip does not want you to trust him blindly. He does want to vault from the floor to your shoulder like ground-to-cloud lightning when you are not looking, causing you to learn that you shout “holy Winston Churchill in a leotard!” when you are startled. (There are things we do not know about ourselves until they happen.)
Chip wants you to enter into this collaboration with confidence. Consider his credentials. Chip wears the same outfit every day, just like Steve Jobs, if Steve Jobs had chosen “naked” instead of “black turtleneck.”
Chip has never, not ever, reached the end of a day with a single to-do left undone.
And this is not because Chip keeps a light schedule. Have you seen this acrobat’s agenda? It would make world leaders tremble. Or, they might only be trembling because a nine-pound cat just manifested out of the mist and landed on their shoulders, with pinwheel eyes proclaiming “I LOVE YOU MORE THAN MULTITUDES OF MEAT!”
Regardless, Chip maintains a demanding docket.
First, he must ensure that all his direct reports in the Medical Suite are achieving their objectives. If you have ever made eye contact with Chip, you are his direct report. If you have not yet made eye contact with Chip, he is working on that.
Chip expects greatness from our Vet Team. Chip expects they will individually head-bonk him no fewer than fourteen (14) times per fourteen (14) minutes. Chip expects the same from his feline employee, Baby. But he will accept Baby’s secondary job description, which is “allowing Chip to live.” If you have never heard an elderly tabby cat mutter “serenity now,” you have not yet worked with Baby.
To-do lists tremble in Chip’s presence, for Chip is a walking ta-da. He is nine pounds of efficiency, trotting through our Medical Suite at speeds exceeding “espresso-chuggin’ hummingbird.” He conquers decision fatigue by deciding “yes” before any questions are asked.
And Chip’s favorite yes is you.
But Chip’s duties extend beyond human resources. You might not know this, but Chip is responsible for the entire supply chain at Tabby’s Place. He has no idea what a “supply chain” is, but if it is anything like a wand toy, Chip has the situation under control.
Chip is convinced that one great endless rainbow wand toy stretches from the Medical Suite to Quinn’s Corner, and outward to the four corners of the globe. Chip is committed to holding up his end of the wand toy, so cats and people on the other end of the building and the other side of the world will know that he’s got them.
And this brings us to Chip’s core competency. Chip gets us.
You are included in Chip’s “us” if you exist. If you do not exist, Chip is working on that. (Prepare for great gladness over the existence of your own existence.)
Chip’s primary “product” is proof that you are a masterpiece. It does not matter if you are cranky or undercaffeinated or cracked or chipped. It does not matter if you are twelve or ninety-six or you have not accomplished one worthy task since the Nixon administration.
Chip’s got you.
Chip’s got a few gastrointestinal issues, too, so there may be some minor hazards to getting got. But it is not his fault that he is flatulent, and he has decided to embrace it. That is to say, he has decided to toot without shame when you embrace him. He toots early and often. He is a pungent piccolo. But if you toot sometimes, too, or your body has its own buffoonery, Chip will never judge you. Chip will always keep a place for you at the Farty Party.
Chip’s got you.
And Chip’s got a mission to get it into your head that you have, indeed, done a worthy task. You have existed.
If you are an overachiever, Chip has the ultimate productivity hack for you. He will explain, while riding your shoulder like a punk rock parrot, head-bonking you at the rate of six (6) jillion bonks per breath.
Are you ready? Here is the secret to ultimate productivity.
It’s not “avoid multitasking.” (Chip knows that is overrated. High achievers should be able to eat poultry, seafood, and beef simultaneously, while giving a seminar called I Am Excited I Am So Excited Are You Excited Let’s Be Excited Oh And Hi I Am Chip.)
It’s not “eat the frog first.” (Chip understands the concept of doing the most challenging task first thing. Chip has just never encountered a challenging task. Also, eating frogs sounds like an action item worthy of immediate action. Also salamanders. Pass the mayonnaise.)
No. There is only one productivity hack. Trouble is, it will hack your agenda to confetti.
Here it is: Let the cat love you.
If you have forty things to do, let the cat love you.
If you must complete that email in the next fifteen minutes, let the cat love you.
If you do not have time for a cat to curlicue himself like a manic manicotti on your keyboard, let the cat love you.
If your shoulders are slumped from stress, let the cat love you.
If the cat cannot help flatulating in proximity to your face, let the cat love you.
If you are far too busy to stop and let the cat love you, let the cat love you.
Your to-do list just got shorter and more important.
And remember, you can trust Chip. He has a lifetime of experience in having a life worth living.
Your next assignment: go live it up with the cat who loves you.