I’m a detail person. I didn’t always know this about myself. In fact, at a crucial job interview when I was twenty-one, my prospective boss said, “Are you a detail-oriented person?”
“No,” I replied, very matter-of-factly. Maybe almost with a bit of disdain. After all, everyone knows that “detail-oriented” means “boring” or “nerd.” And I was determined to be neither of those things.
The Lord graciously let this woman see past my words to my personality and I got the job. It did indeed involve myriad details, all of which I juggled with aplomb. Whether I liked it or not, I recognized that I am wired for detail.
But lately it seems like I’m drowning in a sea of details. I’m not talking about saying “no” to things. I’m just talking about the details of life that must be attended to by someone. Things like when a bill isn’t correct and you must call customer service to get it straightened out. Or when one doctor’s appointment leads to another. Or when you change your provider of ___________ (you fill in the blank) and the list of who needs to know this snowballs until you feel like Indiana Jones running from a giant boulder. Sometimes it’s just the weekly or monthly task of making a grocery list and figuring out what you are going to feed the family or taking care of the car registration, inspection, oil change, tire rotation.
I don’t want to spend every waking moment dealing with the details. I want to read or write or spend time with the people I enjoy. But I have a hard time doing those things when the details of life become all consuming.