guff

Notetaker Detention

I have a fair memory for most things, and can usually provide adequate recollection on what was said (though the dialogue may be vague), or done (give or take motivating factors). Sometimes I can even attach a date to an event, if one allows rounding off to the year. I do have a good memory that time has yet to rob me of, but I’m not inclined towards that photographic-like talent where one rattles off data fit more for a column in an accountant’s ledger. I’m rarely at the ready with a proper quotation during conversations, though I have been known to get lucky. Expectations on exact figures from me typically require some digging about through bookshelves, searching out the proper reference material. At least I know where to look, otherwise I’d really be lost.

Based on this, one probably wouldn’t imagine I despise the art of taking notes. I am not one to accept the chore of secretary for any group, and can never be bothered to write down the minutes for a meeting. If you can’t find it on my notepad when I walk into a conference room, chances are it won’t be there when I step out for lunch. I try, I really do; I force my attention down on the page before me, and refuse to let the pen slip from my hand — or worse, bounce playfully over my fingers. But anything I’ve scribbled will be nearly nonsensical, and even I’m hard put to decipher topics from my notes. Thing is, when I’ve taken them in a dedicated and clear manner, I benefit from what I’ve written. I just don’t reach those heights often enough.

Maybe the problem is it feels too much like schoolwork. In most meetings there’ll be an adult standing at a board on a wall, awkwardly writing out with a magic marker important points from their Powerpoint-ed presentation, and I slowly reach this deep emotional conviction there’ll be a test on it tomorrow. All this is not to say I despised school to such a degree it’s causing unwanted flashbacks, but I paid my educational dues (somewhat). I keep thinking “been there, done that, wore the school jersey”. I love to learn, but on my own terms, and I see no reason to suffer through further grading semesters. So throughout adulthood I’ve built up a pretty effective firewall to anything remotely behaving like a school brush fire. Even short work-training sessions can cause painful migraines, but I’ve learned to live through that. Pain is easy; it’s the discomfort that’s hard to get used to.

And so the note taking phobia remains, even if I’ve found ways to work around it. Computer gadgets have always held sway over me, or at least when I’m making enough to afford them. Carrying around a handheld device instead of a pad of paper allows me to play up the chic geek look as well as diminish the loathing of ring-bindered pads. And a little notebook computer is a great way to type it all in while avoiding the pen to paper effect. It’s a trick of taking notes without actually taking notes, and thankfully technology has helped some. You see, I hate the physical act of note taking, but I love information — and that’s the rub. I can’t do without one if I want access to the other.

There’s a sad, poetic twist in there somewhere.