assesses what’s important in his professional life. This follows because his reputation
guarantees that he will receive massive coverage in massively influential media
channels,
if
the book is really good. His focus, therefore, is much more productively
applied to the goal of writing the best possible book than instead trying to squeeze out
a few extra sales through inefficient author-driven means. In other words, the question
is not whether Twitter has some conceivable benefit to Lewis; it’s instead whether
Twitter use significantly and positively affects the most important activities in his
professional life.
What about a less famous writer? In this case, book marketing might play a more
primary role in his or her goals. But when forced to identify the two or three most
important activities supporting this goal, it’s unlikely that the type of lightweight one-
on-one contact enabled by Twitter would make the list. This is the result of simple
math. Imagine that our hypothetical author diligently sends ten individualized tweets a
day, five days a week—each of which connects one-on-one with a new potential
reader. Now imagine that 50 percent of the people contacted
in this manner become
loyal fans who will definitely buy the author’s next book. Over the two-year period it
might take to write this book, this yields two thousand sales—a modest boost at best in
a marketplace where bestseller status requires two or three times more sales
per
week
. The question once again is not whether Twitter offers
some
benefits, but instead
whether it offers
enough
benefits to offset its drag on your time and attention (two
resources that are especially valuable to a writer).
Having seen an example of this approach applied to a professional context, let’s
next consider the potentially more disruptive setting of personal goals. In particular,
let’s apply this approach to one of our culture’s most ubiquitous and fiercely defended
tools: Facebook.
When justifying the use of Facebook (or similar social networks), most people cite
its importance to their social lives. With this in mind, let’s apply our strategy to
understand whether Facebook makes the cut due to its positive impact on this aspect of
our personal goals. To do so, we’ll once again work with a hypothetical goal and key
supporting activities.
Personal Goal: To maintain close and rewarding friendships with a group of
people who are important to me.
Key Activities Supporting This Goal:
1. Regularly take the time for meaningful connection with those who are most
important to me (e.g., a long talk, a meal, joint activity).
2. Give of myself to those who are most important to me (e.g., making nontrivial
sacrifices that improve their lives).
Not everyone will share this exact
goal or supporting activities, but hopefully
you’ll stipulate that they apply to many people. Let’s now step back and apply our
strategy’s filtering logic to the example of Facebook in the context of this personal
goal. This service, of course, offers any number of benefits to your social life. To
name a few that are often mentioned: It allows you to catch up with people you haven’t
seen in a while, it allows you to maintain lightweight contact with people you know
but don’t run into regularly, it allows you to more easily monitor important events in
people’s lives (such as whether or not they’re married or what their new baby looks
like), and it allows you to stumble onto online communities or groups that match your
interests.
These are real benefits that Facebook undeniably offers, but none of these benefits
provide a significant positive impact to the two key activities we listed, both of which
are offline and effort intensive. Our strategy, therefore,
would return a perhaps
surprising but clear conclusion:
Of course Facebook offers benefits to your social
life, but none are important enough to what really matters to you in this area to
justify giving it access to your time and attention
.
*
To be clear, I’m not arguing that everyone should stop using Facebook. I’m instead
showing that for this specific (representative) case study, the strategy proposed here
would suggest dropping this service. I can imagine, however, other plausible
scenarios that would lead to the opposite conclusion. Consider, for example, a college
freshman. For someone in this situation, it might be more
important to establish new
friendships than to support existing relationships. The activities this student identifies
for supporting his goal of a thriving social life, therefore, might include something
like, “attend lots of events and socialize with lots of different people.” If this is a key
activity, and you’re on a college campus, then a tool like Facebook would have a
substantially positive impact and
should be used
.
To give another example, consider someone in the military who’s deployed
overseas.
For this hypothetical soldier, keeping in frequent lightweight touch with
friends and family left back home is a plausible priority, and one that might once again
be best supported through social networks.
What should be clear from these examples is that this strategy, if applied as
described, will lead many people who currently use tools like Facebook or Twitter to
abandon them—but not everyone. You might, at this point, complain about the
arbitrariness of allowing only a small number of activities to dominate your decisions
about such tools. As we established previously, for example,
Facebook has many
benefits to your social life; why would one abandon it just because it doesn’t happen
to help the small number of activities that we judged most important? What’s key to
understand here, however, is that this radical reduction of priorities is not arbitrary,
but is instead motivated by an idea that has arisen repeatedly in any number of
different fields, from client profitability to social equality to prevention of crashes in
computer programs.
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