Forty-One Messages Nobody Read
Something I built sent me an update every morning for over a month. I read none of them. Moving it to the hour I actually read was the whole fix.
Something I built sent me an update every morning for over a month. I read none of them. Moving it to the hour I actually read was the whole fix.
A note in my own files said something could not be done. Nobody had ever checked it. Twenty minutes of reading later, the door had been open the whole time.
Free is a price, not a cost. Free tools bill you in hours, workarounds and exit taxes, and the invoice always shows up at the worst possible moment.
Nobody is coming to tell you that you are ready. The permission you keep waiting for does not exist, and waiting for it costs more than starting badly ever will.
Four automated systems sent me hundreds of status updates over a few months. I replied to almost none of them. That number taught me more about automation than anything else I built.
If you would not work on it Saturday morning, unprompted, with nobody watching, it is not real to you. The cheapest filter I have found for deciding what actually deserves my time.