Planning and the World of Plans That Don’t Work Out

The oldest photograph I can recall from my childhood dates back to when I was just turning three: my brother hadn’t been born yet… I see myself with my mother on the window sill of the top floor of a four-storey block of flats in Erenköy. On the stage, the sofa we’re sitting on is covered in a Sümerbank-printed fabric with a large pattern and pleated hem, and there are pupils from Erenköy Girls’ High School walking past on the street in their navy-blue blouses, their hair carefully plaited on both sides, carrying their books and exercise books pressed against their chests. It’s the end of ’74. It might even be the start of ’75. Everything that remains in my mind is like a scene from one of Ertem Eğilmez’s films from those years… My mum is speaking: “My daughter will grow up just like these older girls, she’ll go to school. Come on, my lovely girl, drink this milk now.” In her hand, a teacup of milk I was refusing to drink; on her lips, her dreams for her daughter…

The next photograph shows me striking a proud school pose for my father on our flower-filled balcony. As I’d had to wait until I was seven to start school, I was bigger than my peers, and so I’d proudly slipped on my black school smock—which would look a bit baggy on me for the next five years—and was smiling at the camera with my missing teeth. With my hair in two ponytails and the pointed ‘boy’s’ collar I insisted on wearing instead of the neat white lace collar my mum had knitted—because I thought it made me look more ‘serious’…

From that photograph onwards, my fascination with planning—a trait I’m certain I inherited from my grandfather, who, despite being just a small-town shopkeeper, used to draw up an annual work plan for himself—became an integral part of every moment of my school life. “First I’ll come home from school, then I’ll do my ‘write one page of U’s’ homework. Then I can have my dinner…” Back then, I had no idea it was called time management, efficient study or planning, but it was an instinct passed down through my genes. The sense of security that comes from breaking time down into small chunks and living with a clear idea of what to pair each one with. Even the study and time plans I drew up for my friends whilst preparing for university—when I couldn’t quite get myself moving—seemed to foreshadow that project management would become a significant part of my career. Although the free-spirited Aquarius within me sometimes tickles my more spontaneous and adventurous side, I had chosen to plan every aspect of my life.

So much so that, had life not been in the hands of a skilled screenwriter beyond our imagination, I might well have been inclined to believe that planning had a domineering, slightly god-like aspect to it, keeping all variables under control. Fortunately, that wasn’t the case. The sandcastles of my childhood crumbled, and I witnessed the plans I’d made for my life being ironically dismantled by an invisible hand. I recognised myself in the slightly reproachful tone of the naive young man from Çanakkale, played by Ata Demirer in the film *Eyvah Eyvah*, when he said to his beloved fiancée, ‘I never make plans because they never work out.’ The disappointment of being betrayed by an obsessive childhood love…

As if that weren’t enough, the term VUCA^[1]—which began to be used globally in the 2000s to describe the business world—not only highlighted just how volatile, chaotic and unpredictable the world of work has become, whilst also planting a bomb under the very foundations of my approach to planning. Trying to plan under constantly changing conditions had become as futile an endeavour as trying to bail water out of a leaky boat with a bucket. 

In a world where everything changes so rapidly, how meaningful was it to carry on making plans? 

Was it really worth incurring such labour costs for business plans and budgets that were bound to fall apart and keep changing anyway? 

Wouldn’t things sort themselves out along the way anyway? 

Thankfully, many businesspeople, loyal to their old habits, had found the arguments to turn their intense incompatibility with planning into a ‘divorce’. As for me, having weathered the initial shock of this upheaval, I chose to remain the loyal partner who, despite all the disappointments, continued to stand by my childhood love. For over time, I realised that planning is more than just a static sequence of activities; it is a lever that structures the mind, provides flexibility of action, strengthens the link between the ultimate goal and the present, and makes it easier to remain resilient in the face of setbacks.  The world has laid the foundations for a new model under the name of ‘agile planning’, which has helped me restore my shaken confidence in planning. 

In my view, the crux of the matter—both at work and in life—is this:

• Plans always change. Change is inevitable. We make plans not to prevent them from changing, but to organise and keep our minds clear. 
• What matters is not that we do not make plans, but that we possess the flexibility and agility to adapt them as needed.
• We must have a long-term goal and a roadmap for the future in this life. Where do we want to go? Why do we want this? What does it mean to us? What are the right steps we need to take today on this path? 
• The recently popular concepts of ‘focusing on the present’ and ‘living in the moment’ do not, as is often assumed, simply mean focusing on the present whilst lacking foresight; on the contrary, they require a thorough analysis of the context in which we find ourselves. Those who analyse the situation well will have accurate foresight regarding the future; they will be prudent and cautious. In short, living in the moment and making plans are not, as is often thought, mutually exclusive. 
• When circumstances become difficult for us, or change in an unforeseeable way, remembering our ultimate goal is the easiest way to stay on course. As long as we know the ‘why’, we will always find a way to adapt the ‘how’.

When Montaigne said, ‘No wind is favourable to those who do not know their destination’, back in the 16th century, it had probably been no more than 50 years since the discovery of America. Of course, today’s technology, economic order and understanding of global competition cannot be compared to those days, but thankfully, the wisdom regarding the fundamentals of life is timeless. In short, that little girl who used to sit on the windowsill of an Erenköy flat back in the 1970s is still making plans. She does so with the conviction that planning is the fuel that keeps us grounded in life, and knowing that through planning, one can face life’s surprises with greater strength and flexibility…

^[1] VUCA is an English acronym first used in 1987, standing for volatility, uncertainty, complexity and ambiguity. It was first introduced by the US military to describe the new security environment that emerged following the end of the Cold War. Subsequently, in the wake of the 11 September 2001 terrorist attacks, the concept of VUCA was reiterated by the US military. Over the past 20 years, however, the concept has been embraced by the business community as the acronym that best describes the chaotic business world, characterised by rapid change and the associated uncertainties.

Emine Ebru Arslan