An Open Letter to My Google Calendar
Dear Google Calendar,
We need to talk.
You’ve been with me since the very beginning. When I first decided to start this business - aka become the kind of person who says things like “circling back on this” and “let’s hop on a quick Zoom” - you were right there, colour-coding my dreams.
At first, it was sweet. I gave you cute event names like “Big CEO Energy” and “Deep Work (no distractions lol).” I blocked out little moments for admin, for strategy, for something I rather ambitiously labelled “Creative Time,” as if I was Virginia Woolf and not a woman who scribbles 90% of her ideas in her notes app.
But lately, things have taken a turn. You’ve become... aggressive.
Every morning you come at me with notifications like “Review sales funnel” and “Follow up with Imogen re: marketing strategy,” and I just want to ask: Who do you think I am? Do I look like a person who has a marketing strategy? Do I even know what a sales funnel is? I’ve barely figured out invoicing. And yet here you are, pinging me like I’m a Silicon Valley C suite exec at a Coldplay concert.
Somewhere along the way, I clearly gave you the impression that I had things under control. That I was the kind of founder who does breathwork at 7:30, journals at 8, and launches strategic initiatives before 9am. Instead, I have become the kind of founder who spends 40 minutes deciding whether “quick coffee with Katie” counts as work or rest. (It was neither. It was gossip.)
And don't even get me started on the "all-day events." You know the ones - the vague, aspirational tasks that hover at the top of the day like passive-aggressive clouds:
- Update website copy
- Batch Instagram content
- Do taxes (???)
They’ve been rolling over like bad karma for weeks now. Each night, I drag them onto the next day’s to-do list like a toxic relationship I’m not ready to let go of. Honestly, it’s starting to feel personal.
And yet - here’s the wild part - I need you.
Without you, I am but a woman with a laptop and a dream, untethered by time, floating through space with no idea what day it is. You keep me semi-accountable. You stop me from scheduling three things at once. You (usually) prevent me from showing up to client calls in a dressing gown.
So this is my olive branch: I promise to stop booking “Deep Work” at 4:30pm when I know I’m already mentally on the sofa. And you… well, maybe you could chill with the 6am notifications for a bit? Let’s meet in the middle. Let’s be realistic. Let’s accept who we are: a messy founder and her overly optimistic digital assistant, doing their chaotic best.
With (conditional) love,
- S