I’ve been thinking a lot about calendars lately — mine in particular. There’s a quiet truth most of us would rather not admit: we aren’t running our calendars, our calendars are running us. Show me a fortnight of someone’s diary and I can usually tell you, with uncomfortable accuracy, what they actually care about. The hours don’t lie.
So I opened Outlook last Saturday morning and had a long, honest look at my own.
The Calendar Is the Confession
Most weeks of mine look fine on the surface. Meetings stacked tidily, deliverables ticking along, inbox manageable. But I tried something different this time — I colour-coded a fortnight of activities. Green for what energises me. Red for what drains me. The picture changed quickly. Most of the red was email triage, status check-ins that should have been a paragraph in a chat, and busywork dressed up as “real work”. I’d been treating execution time and thinking time as the same currency. They aren’t, and the account that pays out on each is very different.
The shift I’m trying to make is at an identity level. Stop measuring myself on output volume and start measuring myself on the quality of the decisions I make. A clear head making one good call beats a frantic day producing eight average ones. The problem is your calendar has to actually let you do that — and most calendars don’t.
Where Copilot Earns Its Seat
This is where Microsoft 365 Copilot has genuinely changed something in my week. Not in a flashy way — in a quietly structural way. The red activities on my audit, the energy-drain ones, are exactly the tasks Copilot is now doing for me.
Outlook is the obvious one. Copilot drafts replies, summarises long threads, and pulls out the actual ask buried six paragraphs deep. The hour I used to lose to inbox every morning is now closer to fifteen minutes. In Teams, Copilot recaps the meetings I couldn’t attend in plain prose, with decisions and action items separated — so I don’t have to sit through the recording at 1.5x speed pretending it’s productive. In Word and PowerPoint, the first draft writes itself from a few prompts, and I edit instead of starting from a blank page. In Excel, the analysis I used to wait on someone else for is now a conversation I have with the spreadsheet.
The principle behind all of this is simple. Pay someone, or something, to take low-value work off your plate so you can spend more hours on what only you can do. Copilot is the cheapest, most consistent assistant most of us will ever have. It doesn’t call in sick. It doesn’t need handover notes. And it’s already sitting inside the apps you use every day.
Design the Week First
The bit of this I’m trying hardest to apply is the simplest one. Schedule the personal commitments before the work ones. Block the gym session, the family dinner, the thinking time — then let work fit around what’s already there. It feels backwards the first time you do it, and right by the end of the week.
I’m watching my own calendar more carefully now. Not for gaps to fill, but for patterns I’d rather not repeat. If Copilot can hand me back ten hours a week of red-zone work, the question stops being “how do I find time” and becomes “what am I going to do with the time I’ve reclaimed”. That second question, I think, is the one worth answering well.
CIAOPS 