When I meet with people, one of the first things I observe is whether they arrive with a notebook. While a few come prepared with a small notepad and others rely on digital devices – phones or iPads – the vast majority arrive completely “hands-free.” This always makes me wonder: what will they actually take away or remember after our conversation ends?
I have no doubt that most people possess excellent memories for the key actionables that emerge from meetings. They’ll remember the deadlines, the decisions, the clear next steps. But meetings are so much more than task distribution centres. They’re exchanges of ideas, explorations of possibilities, moments where understanding deepens in unexpected ways. While the big ideas will likely stick, I’ve learned that it’s often the seemingly small insights that prove most valuable later.
I wrote about my note-taking philosophy a few years ago: “Most of the time we are always bothered about our next actions. We have to remember to do this, do that, tell someone something, and so on. My approach is to get it out of the mind and onto paper. For some, it could be into an app – whatever works best. I find the combination of paper and pen works best. I write a lot and write fast. It keeps me completely focused during the meeting. And as I get ideas, I note them down prefixing them with my initials or a lightbulb, thus enabling me to reference them easily later.”
This practice has taught me something crucial: “If one doesn’t make notes in a meeting, one will remember the big ideas clearly. But I have realised that it’s also the seemingly small ideas that matter. A phrase one hears, a memory that surfaces, a trigger from the gut – these are nearly impossible to recall after the meeting, especially if you’re caught in a series of back-to-back conversations. The best way to capture these fleeting moments is to write them down immediately, creating space to revisit them later.”
For me, every meeting represents a learning opportunity. If I can discover one or two things I didn’t know before walking into the room, I consider it time well invested. In customer meetings, their specific language choices help me refine how I frame both problems and solutions. Their casual asides often reveal underlying concerns that formal presentations miss entirely. Capturing these nuances on paper creates raw material for deeper thinking during me-time.
I’m particularly drawn to the paper-and-pen combination because it enables spatial thinking in ways that digital tools struggle to match. I can draw connections literally – with arrows, circles, and diagrams that span across pages. Ideas can live in margins, concepts can be grouped visually, and relationships between thoughts can be mapped in real-time. The small keyboard of a phone or tablet forces linear thinking, but paper allows for the kind of multi-dimensional note-taking that mirrors how conversations actually unfold.
There’s also something about the physical act of writing that enhances retention and processing. The slower pace of handwriting compared to typing creates natural moments for reflection. Your brain has time to filter and synthesise as your hand moves across the page.
Perhaps most importantly, visible note-taking signals something valuable to the other participants: that their words matter enough to be preserved. It demonstrates active engagement in a way that staring at a screen – however well-intentioned – simply cannot match. In our increasingly distracted world, the simple act of putting pen to paper has become a form of respect, a way of honouring the conversation and the people sharing their time and insights with you.
