Breaking the Responsiveness Trap

There's an old adage that rules are meant to be broken. I'd say some rules are meant to be bent and others broken. I'm not talking about laws—I'm talking about self-imposed rules. The do's and don'ts we carry around. Some people call them habits. Others call them unspoken expectations.

The older I get, the more I think some of these rules should be abolished entirely. Especially the ones we enforce on ourselves or let others silently impose. Lately, I've been thinking about the rules around reading emails and responding to calls and texts.

In business today, there's an expectation that emails, texts, and calls should be answered almost immediately. The socially acceptable response time is supposedly 24 hours. That sounds about right, but in practice, it's rarely honored. How many times have you sent an email in an open office—several people CC'd—and within five minutes someone's already at your desk asking about it? As if you were on permanent standby for the next message to hit your inbox.

The same goes for texts. There's an expectation of instant replies. If you don't respond right away, you're considered rude. I still remember having an Apple Watch. Calls, texts, and emails were just a tap on the wrist away. I was trying to meet the expectation that every form of communication had to be handled as quickly as possible. The work environment and office culture drove that behavior.

Then one day, I'd had enough. I called it quits. I replaced my Apple Watch with a mechanical watch. At first, it was extremely difficult not to be a human automaton, constantly fielding every electronic message. But it felt like the right decision. It was my personal choice to break the rules and end everyone's expectation that I'd always be immediately reachable.

I realized that constant responsiveness was a colossal waste of time and energy—a poor use of my professional and intellectual bandwidth. I started wondering how I'd allowed my life to reach the point where pseudo-productivity was the driving force behind every day at the office. Is this really what we're paid for? To make bosses, coworkers, and business partners feel better because we respond as fast as possible?

What happened to using my experience and brain to do meaningful, deep work? What happened to solving real problems—not just procedural ones that appear complex to outsiders and carry responsibility because they involve large sums of money, but don't actually move the business forward in any significant way?

You quickly realize that electronic tools and communication channels can become a blindfold. They trick everyone into believing they're being productive and solving important problems when, if you look closely, maybe not so much. The uncomfortable truth is that most white-collar work, as structured in many organizations, is largely busywork. On most days, your actual tasks could probably be completed in four hours or less. Not all days, but most. That leaves half a day open to work on deep questions, real problems, and genuine innovation.

But that's not how most systems are set up. And while you may not be able to change your organization overnight, you can change how you respond to these pseudo-productivity expectations—especially around communication and technology.

The moment I switched to a mechanical watch, my notifications dropped automatically. That shift led me to deliberately reconsider how I allowed notifications on my phone and computer. The change didn't happen overnight. It was gradual, and that's what I recommend. Little by little, as you get used to it, you can tailor how—and more importantly, when—you respond to messages.

Surprisingly, people adapt without really noticing, because your response time lengthens gradually. In return, you gain mental bandwidth and time to be a better contributor to your organization. You reclaim space to focus by setting new boundaries. Some people might not love it, but almost no one will openly insist that you must answer their call within 10 minutes, or respond to every text and email with near-instant speed. They know how unreasonable that sounds: preposterous and inconsiderate.

So the next time you feel overwhelmed, think about it. Dare to be a rule-breaker. Dare to put some distance between yourself and the incoming onslaught of messages. You'll be better off for it—and so will your organization.