I create 100% of my nightmares. If there’s drama; it started with me. Deadlines aren’t fun to dance with and yet she’s still the most beautiful girl at the homecoming celebration.
Identifying the deadline dilemma can easily be cooled off through delegation but only if the foundation is set up to handle oversaturation. Not in this cruel wet business world where slicing the dice has turned a Yahtzee game into Pin the Tail on the Donkey.
Show me someone who’s not under deadline pressure and I’ll paint the portrait of a millionaire.
I couldn’t be more wrong.
Within 48 hours I’ve sat with two different multi-green back business owners worth too much to discuss and both parties have been dulled by the presence of a recession that won’t end combined with employees that feel no need to start.
Time carries no weight in the worth of our self importance.
Deadline demands aren’t being met because something has clicked in the ego swelling mannerisms of recovery. Being late for work, dinner or a high school Friday night football game is the single commodity I’ve wasted thirty years hoping would never spin from the bowels of a California life and style.
I hate deadlines! But that doesn’t stop me from creating them.
Employees and coworker’s refuse to work under such conditions because the stress can easily be taken out on friends, family or an innocent squirrel hunting down nuts for the fast approaching change in the weather.
Deadlines aren’t the problem! Thinking about it is…
We do more damage to the product by allowing ourselves to quickly arrive at the horizon.
Too much energy is burned up on the fear of not achieving a proper conclusion. We complain, point fingers, drive stakes into invisible hearts, mope around, hang our heads, shove lunch and dinner aside, plaster stuff all over Face Book and Twitter, get in the car and crank up the radio only to hear how you can save money with your cable company but never listen to the fine print.
Deadlines draw drama from the darkest corners of the most impossible places. Once you teach your body a method of release; it becomes a mind drug that begins to depend on deadlines to catch its next high. Deadlines are no different than a parrot plucking its feathers; I’m sure they’d love to stop ripping those things out only to learn the endorphins released feel 100 times better than a Red Bull rush.
Dr. Richard Carlson writes, “Even if complaints about deadlines are justified, it still requires enormous amounts of mental energy. Added obsessive thinking creates its own internal anxiety.”
Deadlines aren’t going away. I was born with one; getter done before you turn back to dust.
Your heart and head create the mess the rest of your body is forced to mop up. Manage your focus by maintaining a positive outlook on expected deadlines. You aren’t new to the world, the job description might have changed but no position of importance goes without meeting deadlines.
Gently remind yourself that your energy is more important than the emptiness. I call this post production blues. Suicide, drug and alcohol abuse are rampant in the world of broadcasting because a single requirement that demands a perfect deadline might be the seven second intro of your favorite song. Slam 25 or 30 of those into an average day and reality seems like a dull boring endeavor.
Howard Stern bravely admitted that after every show it’s become his daily determination to spend two hours in meditation by way of letting what was fade into the distant past he can’t change.
Why should your job be any different? Constantly under new shapes of pressure the boss whose boss who’s connected to another boss has determined that a deadline must be met and like a raindrop skidding from the skies over Montana that single bead must somehow makes its way to the Gulf of Mexico.
Dr. Carlson believes you should make peace with deadlines.
Thich Nhat Hahn teaches, “To be in peace you have to walk in peace.”
Sadly the current shape of our economic nation has taken the word peace and cut it up into several pieces giving the majority of our body parts no reason to play with scheduled times but our time…which leads to deadlines not being matched or met. Therefore we’ve evolved into the country other languages have created words for feeding their need to point fingers and laugh.
So watcha wanna do about it?
Maybe its time to look at pictures of the old South while staring into the conversations of the white, black, red and toothless storytellers that lived in this corner of the world before money controlled by the United States government was tossed into what truly resembled a third world country.
We can’t go back…we need you to help keep us moving forward.
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
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