The Efficiency Trap

Hello friends, and welcome to The Daily Preneur! If you want to join 178 other readers learning about preneurship and economics, subscribe below:

You can check out our other articles and follow us on Twitter.

Less than 200 years ago, people washed their clothes and linens in rivers and buckets of water. Think about how long it would take to find a river or lake, walk to it, wash your clothes, walk back, hang them up, and let them dry. Imagine trying to fit that into your daily routine. It's not impossible; it's just inefficient today.

It wasn't until 1868 that a new way to wash clothes was commercially sold. That year, Thomas Bradford (a British inventor) released his machine, which is thought to be the first to resemble the modern-day device. Since then, the industry has catapulted and is now worth $60.5B worldwide. The machines today are incredibly efficient; you can wash (and dry) more clothes in less time. But here's the irony: do you have any less laundry? No. You do more than your 1868 counterpart. Instead of wearing a garment five or six times, you wear it once or twice because washing it is "efficient."

The downside of efficiency is that instead of valuing time more, we tend to value it less. Email is a great example. Perhaps the most dreaded corporate task in the world, or so I've heard, is responding to emails. I haven't worked at a big enough company to understand the pain, but I understand the sentiment; responding to 50+ text messages on your birthday can be painful. Certainly, not all email is necessary, and it definitely isn't work that people dream of doing – have you ever heard of someone wanting to do email when they grow up?

Just as the washing machine allowed people to do more laundry, email enables more communication with more people. This wouldn't be so bad if all emails were productive and necessary for a fulfilling life. But this usually isn't the case. More often than not, the reward for being efficient is more work (and more email). I'm not claiming the answer is never sending an email and doing laundry in a river; that would be miserable and unproductive. Instead, I'm suggesting that you carefully examine the consequences of efficiency.

After all, the average human lifespan is about 4,000 weeks. It would be a shame if you spent most of your time relentlessly checking and responding to emails.

When presented with the choice of walking two miles or taking an Uber, most people would opt for Ubering because it saves time. The question is: what did you do with that time? Did you spend it with your family? Or did you spend it in less fulfilling ways, like scrolling on social media and responding to emails after 5 pm? The problem with walking instead of Ubering is that walking takes effort. And it's really easy to be efficient when the alternative is effort.

This is probably a good time to address the elephant in the room; I'm no exception. Like you, I'm human, and humans are imperfect. Every day, I wake up and battle my desire to do what's convenient and efficient instead of what's difficult, and often, I fail. I'm writing this piece for myself as much as I am for you.

I bring up the Uber example because this week, I was presented with the same choice: walk two miles or uber. After short consideration, I elected to walk, even though it was 32 degrees and windy. Despite being less efficient (in terms of getting from point A to point B) and more effort, walking is far better for my health, the planet, and my bank account. This is one of many examples where effort – instead of efficiency – yields a better outcome.

The classroom is another. In high school, I chose efficiency over effort more times than I'd like to admit. Instead of trying to understand a lesson the first time, I'd skim over it and get it done as soon as possible. This allowed me to spend less time on homework and more time on Snapchat. In the long run, I suffered the consequences. When test day came, I wasn't fully prepared, and my score reflected that. I learned that it's easy to be efficient when efficiency is a means to an end. 

Maybe I'm being a bit harsh on myself; I graduated with a 3.6 GPA and went to college to play a Division I sport, but I'm trying to make a point: efficiency is a trap if you're not careful. The more efficient you are, the more you're rewarded by society with more to do, and thereby, the more you convince yourself you can do everything. When in reality, you can't.

As Burkeman points out, being efficient makes you believe it's possible to fit everything in. This belief is how people burn out in their jobs, relationships, and life. It's a dangerous trap. According to Burkeman, the only possible solution to overcome this debilitating belief is to recognize that you can't do everything.

Growing up, I was the kid who believed he could do everything. For the most part, it served me well. I reached heights that felt unreachable (attending grad school), and I proved that with enough hard work and resilience, I could persevere through anything (overcoming a severe concussion and thumb surgery during my freshman year). But it wasn't until I sat down to write this article that I realized there is one thing I can't do: I can't do everything. And, like me, neither can you.

The problem with believing you can do everything is that you ignore that your time on earth is limited. There is a shot clock, and you don't know when it will go off. But if you think about it, it's kind of comforting. Despite your efforts to do as much as possible, you won't be able to do it all. Suddenly, responding to emails and checking your phone 24/7 seems unimportant and unnecessary.

Even if you lived forever, you wouldn't be able to do it all. Every decision you make – now and for the rest of your life – prevents you from doing something else. Right now, you're reading this blog and not going for a run. I'm grateful that you've read this far – and hope you keep reading, and maybe go for a run after – but because you're here and not running, by definition, you can't do everything. Thinking about your limitations and the 4,000 weeks you have on earth (for some more and some less) can help you navigate life with renewed purpose. It forces you to think in finite terms and prioritize the work and experiences that make your life full.

So, how do you avoid the efficiency trap and not get stuck in the rat race that plagues our existence? According to Oliver Burkeman, author of Four Thousand Weeks, you should face the finitude of your existence to make better use of your limited time. Facing your finitude forces you to rank all your life experiences against the inevitable fact that, at some point, you will die. When everything you do is put in perspective with "I might perish at any moment," things start to feel much more real. You'll do less of the unimportant stuff and more of things that bring you joy, satisfaction, and contentment.

To help you remember your finiteness, Ryan Holiday, author of The Daily Stoic, popularized the phrase "Memento Mori." It reminds us that our time on earth is limited, and we should only be doing things that bring us closer to living the life we want.

Because you can't do everything, and your shot clock is winding down, consider asking yourself: what should I do? When people wrestle with this question, good things tend to happen. And remember, the only thing you truly HAVE to do is die. Everything else, you have the choice.

Keep crushing.

Cheers,

Noah Cracknell

P.S. Feel free to respond to this email and tell me what you think. All feedback is appreciated!

New w/Noah

After much consideration, I've decided to start coaching again! I'm not doing personal training (although you can email or text me, and I'll write you a program); instead, I'm offering academic coaching (tutoring) in various subjects and writing assistance for college essays. If you or someone you know needs academic coaching, please contact me or visit my website.

In other news, I had an epic morning yesterday. It started with a 6-minute cold plunge on an NYC rooftop and ended with a game of chess. The only thing that could have made it better was a 49ers win. But such is life; we'll be back next year and win it all.

Keep reading