Outputs don't scale with inputs

Conventional wisdom says that the more you put in, the more you get out. While it’s true that you’re unlikely to get less out, the conversion rate isn’t always linear.

You could view this as the difference between “working harder” and “working smarter”. But I’m not just talking in terms of productivity and capitalist “outputs”.

The little things can be truly meaningful. It’s these hints that reveal our humanity. The little things that one person does that are uniquely them.

The other day I sponsored a friend who was running a 5K for charity. I thought nothing of it. It’s just one of those things you do. I’ve been that person running for charity, and it can feel uncomfortable going around everyone you know asking for money. So I’m happy to chip in whenever anyone asks.

A couple of days later she sent me a message to say thank you. It was a WhatsApp message, two sentences long. But it meant a hell of a lot. I probably got more warm fuzzies out of that message than she did from my donation. The difference was that my action was transactional - I was fulfilling a social obligation, reciprocating for the time others had helped me. Her action was entirely voluntary.

How hard is it to write “thank you” every now and then?

The flipside of this is that these small things don’t scale. The reason they are valuable is precisely because they are small. The moment they become bigger it stops being as personal or as meaningful. Receiving a thank you note from a company feels disingenuous, almost dirty. I can’t stand it when a company sends me a birthday message. You didn’t remember my birthday, your database did!

If you zoom out even further, it’s very hard to think of an interaction with a big company that doesn’t feel unpleasant or forced. If Netflix has an error, or Google goes down for five minutes, people lose their fucking minds. They take to Twitter (if it’s up) and shout loudly into the void. You wouldn’t react that way if you saw a “just popped out for 10 minutes” sign on the village shop. (At least, I hope you wouldn’t.)

The other problem with the little things is that it’s hard to know which little things made a difference. I planted some vegetables in my garden a few months back. At first it didn’t look like it was going particularly well. Over the last few weeks both of tomatoes and the cucumbers have sprung into life. The vegetable patch is now so crowded that I’ve had to move some of the plants around to give them more space.

Why has this happened? Not a clue. I’ve absolutely no idea if this is something I did, or if it’s a change in the weather, or if that’s just the way these particular plants grow. There’s no way for me to tie a particular action to a particular outcome. Maybe after growing enough vegetables and spending enough time observing the trends I’ll come to understand how to grow a healthy crop.

Even in areas I have more control there are huge variations. Time doesn’t feel linear. Time feels lumpy - sometimes it’s stretched, sometimes compressed. On a good day maybe you’ll be 10 times more productive than a bad day. You’ll be in the swing of things and just keep going. Sometimes getting started is the hardest part. Some days it takes a while to get up to speed, but once you’re going you’re like a productivity flywheel spinning under its own momentum.

You have no idea when it’s going to be a good day. You have no idea when it’s going to when a good idea is going to arrive and you can suddenly jump on board. You can’t plan for breakthroughs and Eureka moments. All you can do is prepare yourself to make the most of those opportunities when they arrive. You can’t control the weather, but maybe it’s best to pack an umbrella just in case.