Overhead is everything

Any new thing that enters your life comes with some form of overhead.

A new purchase, a new system, a new acquaintance, a new employee, a new hobby. Almost nothing simply enters your life and then sits there requiring nothing from you.

There is the cost of getting it. Then there is the cost of having it.

Henry David Thoreau put this particularly well, in a quote that I love and try to remember often:

Let’s say I decide to buy a new camera.

First I need to research the models. Then I compare them to my existing camera. Then I compare the different options against each other. I read reviews. I decide what I actually need.

Eventually I buy one…But I’m not finished.

What do I do with the old camera? Sell it? Keep it? Where do I store the new one? Does it need a new bag? Do I need different batteries, lenses or accessories? How am I going to charge everything? Is there something else I now need to learn or know because I bought this thing?

The camera isn’t just a camera anymore. It has become a small system that I need to operate.

That is what I’ve started thinking of as overhead. I guess it’s also the same as mental load.

Overhead is the work required just to keep something running after the initial decision has been made.

And almost everything has it.

This applies to people as much as things.

That might sound colder than I intend it to because relationships obviously aren’t products to be optimised.

But people require time, attention and energy. New relationships need to be maintained. New employees need to be managed. New professional relationships create conversations, meetings, messages and decisions. And decisions on where to put all of that new stuff.

All of that can be worthwhile. The point is simply that it isn’t free.

This is probably the main reason I have been resisting letting new things into my world faster than I am comfortable with.

I can see the overhead coming with them.

A good example is hiring an assistant.

On paper, this makes complete sense. I have enough going on that another person could take work away from me.

But there is a strange contradiction in hiring someone to reduce your overhead.

First, you have to create a lot more overhead.

I need to define the job. Interview people. Choose someone. Sort out a contract. Set up payroll. Give them access to things. Explain how I work. Decide what I can delegate. Answer questions. Review what they do. Have regular meetings. Manage the relationship.

Eventually, hopefully, the equation flips and they remove more overhead than they create.

But there is still a cost to getting there.

It also raises another question: Before I hire someone to manage the complexity in my life, how much of that complexity could I simply remove?

A solution to one problem creates an entirely new collection of smaller problems.

Things that don’t exist don’t need maintenance. Systems that don’t exist don’t break.

Possessions you don’t own don’t need storage and commitments you haven’t made don’t need managing.

More and more, I want to lower my overhead.

Not because I want to do nothing or own nothing. I like things, probably a little too much. I like projects. I like building things and trying new ideas.

But I want the things that are in my life to justify the space they occupy. And by space, I don’t just mean physical space.

I mean mental space like time and attention.

That changes the calculation when I’m considering something new.

I used to mostly ask:

Now I find myself asking:

1. What will it take to get this into my life?
2. What will it take to keep it there?
3. What new decisions will it create?
4. What will need maintaining, managing or organising?
5. Is the benefit actually worth all of that?

Sometimes the answer is yes but a lot of the time, it isn’t.

I’m starting to like a very simple rule:

Not necessarily literally one object for one object. The point is that the total amount of complexity and overhead should not be allowed to expand indefinitely.

If I add a new system, maybe an old system should disappear.

If I buy something significant, maybe there is something I already own that I no longer need.

If I take on a new recurring commitment, maybe I need to remove another one.

And even if nothing new comes in, I want to remove at least one thing every month.

Because the goal isn’t really to own less. The goal is to have less to operate and less stuff operating me by owning my time and attention.

P.S. I did end up choosing a new camera, and I love it :) Now I need to work on not buying the car I took a picture of…