the productivity system that actually made me less productive (until it didn't)
when your productivity system needs its own productivity system, something has gone terribly wrong
Dearest reader,
Last January, I handed over $497 to a revolutionary productivity system that promised to 10x my output.
The sales page had charts. Testimonials from people who apparently survive on caffeine and sheer determination. A 47-step onboarding process that required three apps, two physical notebooks, and what I can only describe as a PhD in colour-coding.
By January 15th, I’d become the most organised unproductive person in the entire northern hemisphere.
My tasks were tagged, categorised, prioritised, and time-blocked into submission. I had workflows for my workflows. Systems for my systems. I’d achieved what I now call meta-productivity: being incredibly productive at being productive without actually producing anything.
The breaking point arrived on a quiet Tuesday afternoon when I caught myself spending four hours creating a task template creation workflow.
Let me say that again for the people in the back: I literally created a system for creating systems for creating tasks.
That’s when I realised I’d become a productivity ouroboros—that mythical serpent eating its own tail in an infinite loop of optimisation. I was consuming myself with efficiency theatre while actual work sat untouched, probably crying in a corner somewhere.
But here’s the plot twist that made that $497 worth every frustrated naira: this spectacular failure taught me something crucial about systems for generalists like us.
The problem wasn’t having systems. The problem was trying to force our beautifully chaotic brains into systems designed for people whose minds don’t work like disco balls in a hurricane.
The Generalist’s System Paradox
Traditional productivity systems assume you’re a specialist with predictable workflows. They’re built for people who do similar tasks repeatedly, who can batch similar work, and who actually know what next Tuesday will look like.
But let me paint you a picture of actual generalist reality.
Monday morning arrives, and you’re writing strategy documents, channelling your inner corporate philosopher. By Tuesday, you’re facilitating a workshop on something you learnt approximately 27 hours ago, somehow sounding like you’ve been doing it for years. Wednesday brings an emergency design consultation that wasn’t on anyone’s radar. Thursday finds you knee-deep in data analysis for a project you genuinely forgot you said yes to. And Friday? Friday has you frantically googling what blockchain actually is seven minutes before a client call.
Cookie-cutter systems don’t just fail under this chaos—they shatter spectacularly. We need systems that bend without breaking, that grow with us instead of trying to prune us into someone else’s shape.
The Organic System Design
After my productivity system meltdown (and a solid week of eating ice cream and questioning my life choices), I developed what I call Organic Systems—frameworks that evolve with your generalist journey instead of forcing you into rigid structures that make you want to throw your laptop out the window.
The Learning Ecosystem (Not Learning Goals)
Traditional thinking says: Learn Python by March 31st.
The organic version whispers: Create weekly connection points with technical thinking.
Here’s why that shift matters: The organic version creates space for learning Python OR discovering that what you really needed was understanding computational thinking OR realising that no-code tools solve your actual problem better. It gives you room to be human, to pivot, to follow the thread that actually leads somewhere useful.
My learning ecosystem includes what I call Curiosity Captures—a simple place to dump interesting things without judgement or organisation anxiety. Then there are Connection Sessions, weekly blocks where I link new learning to existing knowledge. Application Experiments happen monthly, mini-projects using recent learning where failure is not just accepted but expected. And Teaching Opportunities let me share what I’ve learnt, because nothing solidifies understanding like trying to explain it to someone else.
No deadlines. No specific outcomes. Just consistent engagement that naturally produces growth—like tending a garden instead of forcing a factory line.
The Opportunity Flow System
Instead of rigid project pipelines that assume you know exactly what’s coming next (you don’t, and neither do I), I created flow states.
Everything starts in Incoming—the holding pen where all opportunities arrive without pressure. Things that need time to develop move to Percolating, where ideas simmer without guilt. Active Experiments holds my current focus (maximum three, and I do mean maximum). Cross-pollinating captures projects that could combine in unexpected ways. And harvesting is where I extract lessons from completed work, because every project teaches something if you’re paying attention.
Projects move between states based on energy and opportunity, not arbitrary deadlines set by past-me, who clearly didn’t know what future-me would be dealing with.
The Skill Synthesis Method
Rather than isolated skill development where each capability sits alone in its corner, I design skill symphonies—combinations that create more value together than they ever could apart.
My current symphony looks like this: Strategic thinking is my base note, the foundation everything else builds on. Systems design provides the harmony, supporting and enriching the base. Visual communication carries the melody, the part people actually notice first. And project facilitation provides the rhythm, keeping everything moving forward together.
Each new skill gets evaluated through one question: Does it add to the symphony or create discord?
Your System Design Challenge
This week, I’m inviting you to design ONE organic system for your generalist life. Not three. Not seven. One.
Start by picking your chaos point. Where do traditional systems consistently fail you? Learning? Project management? Networking? Client acquisition? That recurring frustration is your starting point.
Then design for flow, not force. Create a system that works with your natural patterns, not against them. When do ideas come to you? How do you naturally process information? What energises versus drains you? Build from there.
Build in evolution from the beginning. Your system should have room to grow, to change, to adapt. Think bamboo, not concrete. Think river, not canal.
Start stupidly simple. My entire learning ecosystem started with one question written on a sticky note: What made me curious today? That’s it. Everything else grew from there.
Test for 30 days—but, and this is crucial—allow the system to evolve during testing. It’s not failing if it changes; it’s growing. That’s literally the point.
Remember: The best system is the one that disappears into your life, supporting without strangling.
That $497 productivity system? I still use exactly one element from it: a morning question prompt. Everything else evolved into something uniquely mine. The expensive lesson was worth it—not for the system I bought, but for learning I needed to grow my own.
Your generalist brain doesn’t need more structure. It needs the right kind of structure—the kind that grows with you instead of trying to prune you into someone else’s shape.
Now go design a system as beautifully chaotic as you are.
Bye. For now,
Alexis