The 30 Degree Shift
Effort isn't always the deterent
This version of the essay has been highly revised. The ideas are the same, but, well, I got better at this. Welcome.
We got a new lawnmower and now everyone wants to do it.
We replaced a large zero-turn with a rotary push mower.
I’ll pause so you can finish laughing.
That’s right, straight out of a 1950s Sears and Roebuck catalogue. It’s hard to use and takes way longer than the motorized monster.
Hmm, that’s interesting, I thought as my 65-year-old roommate[1] bragged to me about cutting the grass in her garden.
What happened? Did everyone suddenly feel guilty about the extra work? Yeah, right.
My mind wanders over similarly strange phenomena, landing on the Starbucks’ drive thru. We’re all familiar with the snaking line of cars that often dangles out into another establishment’s parking lot or even the road.
I’m not a fan of waiting, so I usually order online and pick up in the store, but even here the drive thru steals efficiency, forcing me to find a spot that I can both access now and won’t be blocked in a moment when I return.
How could a drive thru, a signal of modern efficiency, steal efficiency?
We want things fast, but we also expect them right and often customized. Ever heard the phrase “fast, right, or cheap, pick two”? Starbucks is the epitome of custom over quick: highly variable drink mixes, longer prep times than fast food, and orders placed before production.
Only three cars, you casually note and get in line. Why go look someone in the eyes and change from speakers to Bluetooth headphones?
You watch me drive up, park, and hop out.
You blast your A/C. To each their own.
Three more cars join you in line before you move a car length. You sigh, but whatever, it’s no big deal.
As a fourth pulls up, you note I’m frowning at my car seeing that the drive thru line has blocked me in.
At least I got a chocolatey drink.
Wasn’t this about a lawn mower?
I suppose I should get back to that. Let’s consider the new, rotary lawnmower. What do we expect?
We know it’ll be hard to use. So hard, in fact, that I’d bet several of you laughed out loud hearing we’d bought one (I did when my roommate, Adam, suggested it[2]). It certainly seems inefficient; all its power comes from human arms and legs. If people pick the easier thing, this would not be it, so what else is going on here?
One delightful benefit: the reward is instant and visceral. The pleasantly chunky movement, the swishing swirling blade propelled by your effort, and the grass clippings thrown reveal tactile progress and feed dopamine directly into our brains.
It’s enticing. I can feel the looks of others when I pull the mower out to use it. I can practically hear their thoughts, “I wanna go.”
That’s what gets them to try it, but why do they do it a second time?
As rewarding as it is, this push mower isn’t fun. It’s work! We build a sweat quickly and it isn’t even summer yet.
“It shouldn’t work. But it does.”
Here’s where something new sticks its head in. While people wait in line at Starbucks because we’re hungry (or just need a pick-me-up), people do chores because we have to.
The lawnmower fundamentally changed that dynamic. We still have to do it, but we also get to make the yard a nice place to be. We get to take the cuttings and toss them to the chickens or into the compost pile.
And when we sit on the porch and feel comforted that any approaching snake has no tall grass to hide in, we all get to take pride in that safety.
Sipping ginger beer on the porch, I think
It shouldn’t work. But it does.
It doesn’t make a lick of sense, until you look at it differently and utter the sweetest words in the English language:
“Hmm, that’s interesting.”
[1] Yeah, my life is weird and interesting. You’ll have to keep reading if you want more.
[2] Adam is not 65-years-old, but that’s all you get.
From the Rift,
Thanks for Reading