The webinar was projecting on the screen as our team huddled around the conference table listening to the latest golden nugget of wisdom from the corporate office. We all consider ourselves professionals and as professionals, we take notes about corporate nuggets of wisdom. Of the ten of us, I had my Microsoft Surface, the guy next to me had his iPad 2, the guy next to him had a galaxy Note 3 stylus in his hand and the phablet on the table in front of him, and the woman next to him was tapping away on her iPhone 6. In fact, everyone had some technology in front of them save one: Our director. She had her lined, bound notebook open to a blank page and her pen at the ready, tapping a syncopated rhythm on the page.
In her office, she has filled shelves with these notebooks. I think she owns stock in the company that makes them. She always has one with her and if I stop by her office, be it for a request, or a status update, or to solve some problem (even if I am—gulp—summoned) she has the book open and the pen at the ready. I’ve never seen someone so diligent about taking notes.
I’ve never been good at note taking.
Well, that’s not exactly true. I do take notes about things. I have a degree after all, and you don’t get one of those without taking a note or two. It’s just that my handwriting leaves something to be desired and even I can’t read it when I write in a hurry. I wrote a blog about this a few years ago and I haven’t improved any since then. My problem—well one of the many—is that penmanship aside, one has to actually go back and read the notes one writes in order for them to be of any good. I kept a note pad in my days in the Army to document all sorts of things. The only time it came out of my pocket was when I was writing in it. I never really went back and read the thing. I even had a Day-Runner in Army cammo to try to keep myself on track.
Reading my notes remained a problem for me in college until technology caught up with me. Some brilliant individual created an electronic note pad. Not only that, it was also a calendar and an address book. It was essentially an electronic Day Runner. Many will remember the Palm Pilot, a ubiquitous accessory for the corporate yuppie in the nineties. What made it work for me was that it beeped reminders. Oh, happy day! No more missing appointments. No more missing meetings. No more missing assignments. Well, no more excuses for missing assignments, meetings and appointments anyway.
Now I have this Microsoft Surface, which I admit I use more as a laptop replacement than as a tablet, and I have the Note 3 phablet. Both have a stylus—that little device that acts like a pen allowing one to write on an electronic tablet. I rarely use either stylus for the same reason I don’t use a paper notebook. Even Microsoft’s engineers, as brilliant as they are, can’t write code that can make any sense out of my chicken scratch.
So in the meeting, I had my Surface attached to its clicky little keyboard all ready to take notes. We progressed through the webinar and my mind (as I’m sure many others have done) began to wander. I looked around the room and I noticed something: all these note-taking devices were sitting idle. No one was taking notes. It wasn’t because the presentation was particularly riveting either. Some were watching the screen, some were fiddling, some looked thoughtful in that distracted-but-I-want-to-look-interested kind of way. Not one of them was writing or typing.
Except one person.
She was scribbling away like she always does. I’m sure she filled up another one of those bound volumes that line her bookcases. In my defense, the nugget of wisdom was accompanied by a Powerpoint deck that had all the notes we would need, so no need to retype it all. I wouldn’t read it anyway.