CHAPTER 3

Getting Things Done

Cliff had always prided himself on being organized, but somewhere along the way, his obsession with perfectionism turned his once-manageable to-do list into a relentless beast. What began as a simple tool for productivity quickly spiraled into an overwhelming monster, growing bigger with every passing day. Each time Cliff managed to check off one task, five more seemed to sprout up in its place. The list never shrank; it only expanded, a living testament to his desperate need for control. But instead of managing his life, the list began to manage him.

Every time Cliff glanced at the towering list, a wave of panic would wash over him. It was as if the list had grown teeth, ready to devour him whole. The sheer number of tasks paralyzed him, leaving him staring at the screen, slack-jawed, and wondering how his life had turned into a never-ending game of dodging traffic during rush hour. Each moment of hesitation only made the list grow longer, feeding into a vicious cycle that deepened his anxiety. The more he tried to perfect his system, the more trapped he became in the endless demands he placed on himself—demands that, if he was honest, no mere mortal could ever meet.

Then, one day, while desperately scrolling through self-help books (because what else could save him now?), Cliff stumbled upon a book titled Getting Things Done: The Art of Stress-Free Productivity by David Allen. The cover promised a way out of the chaos, a method to master the ever-growing list that had come to dominate his life. Cliff, who was already half-buried under post-it notes and reminder alarms, dove into its pages like a man searching for a life raft in a sea of to-dos.

The book laid out a system that spoke directly to his need for order. It wasn’t just another to-do list—it was a way to reclaim control, to slay the monster once and for all. Cliff experimented with various smartphone apps, testing each one with the precision of a scientist, until he found the perfect tool to implement this new method. Finally, it seemed, there was hope.

With renewed determination, Cliff began to overhaul his approach. He categorized his tasks into projects, filed those projects under broader areas of focus, and added hashtags to each task, linking them to locations where they could be accomplished. Suddenly, his chaotic list started to make sense, each task finding its place in a carefully constructed framework. It was like a giant puzzle, and Cliff was the master puzzle solver—or at least, that’s what he told himself.

Whenever a task popped into his head, Cliff no longer let it linger, eating away at his peace of mind like a nagging itch he couldn’t scratch. Instead, he quickly added it to the app’s inbox, feeling a wave of relief as he mentally offloaded his burden. The anxiety that had once accompanied these floating thoughts began to fade, replaced by a quiet confidence that nothing would be forgotten—unless he accidentally deleted the app, but that was a worry for another day.

Each morning, Cliff would sit down with his app, scanning the inbox and meticulously filing tasks into their appropriate categories. He would review his projects, flagging the ones that needed attention that day. The long, intimidating list was transformed into a concise, manageable set of tasks, tailored to fit the day’s demands. Cliff would sip his coffee, smiling at the thought of conquering yet another day with the precision of a military operation.

But, of course, no plan survives contact with reality. As Cliff became more proficient in his system, something else began to shift. The majority of his tasks were work-related, and as his efficiency grew, so did his workload. It was as if his boss had developed a sixth sense, detecting Cliff’s newfound productivity and deciding to test its limits. The boundaries between work and life blurred until they disappeared entirely. He became a workaholic, consumed by the demands of his job, unable to see beyond the next task on his list. His life had become a never-ending montage of checklists, spreadsheets, and alarms, all competing for his attention.

Prioritization became an elusive concept. Every task felt urgent and pressing, and Cliff struggled to distinguish between what truly mattered and what was simply noise. The idea of work-life balance became something of a joke—if by joke, you meant something that made Cliff nervously laugh and wonder when he’d last seen the sun. The system that had promised to free him had instead chained him to his work, leaving little room for anything else.

As Cliff drowned in the sea of tasks he had created, something important was slipping away unnoticed…