Over the weekend I received a marketing email from a real estate company advertising their new mobile app. I didn’t download it.

Nowadays, every company and brand seems to have a mobile app. If you don’t already have one for your organization, I bet many of you have thought about creating one. This is natural given how profound the shift to mobile has been.

But I can’t help but feel like we are overestimating the kind of attention that many of these apps will receive. App usage is highly concentrated. We’ll spend hours on Instagram, but almost every other app in existence gets ignored.

I love how marketer Seth Godin puts it: “the two scarce elements of our economy are trust and attention.” Attention is not scalable. Each of us have a finite amount of attention to give. And there’s lots of competition for it.

At the same time – to borrow Godin’s thought process – a lot of people will sacrifice trust for the sake of attention. We overpromise because we become desperate. I mean, if you think about it, every company or organization is trying to figure out how to get you to pay attention to them.

But I’d like to think that trust can also help you garner attention. Once I trust someone or some organization, I’m more likely to give them the time of day. They’ve earned it. And I feel like that’s where things are headed in today’s information economy.

Trust and attention. Think about it. They’re pretty powerful things, no matter how you spend your days.

One of the things you’ll often hear people deride at cocktail parties is the trend toward smaller urban dwellings. They get called “shoeboxes” and “cubby holes in the sky.” So let’s unpack that a bit today and try and better understand the economics behind it all.

When a new building is being developed, pretty much everything gets normalized to a per square foot (or square meter) number. 

This is important because saying that building X cost $50 million to build and building Y cost $100 million to build doesn’t tell you much if the buildings are completely different. 

However, saying that building X cost $500 per square foot to build and building Y cost $475 per square foot to build, tells you that building Y, despite being more expensive in absolute terms, was actually cheaper and/or more efficient.

The same is true on the revenue side. And typically, developers are looking (struggling) to meet a certain per square foot number in order to make the project financially feasible. 

For instance, let’s say you’re building a 100,000 sf condo building. Once you subtract the non revenue generating spaces, you might determine that you need 85,000 sf x $600 per square foot in revenue in order to make the project feasible.

But there’s a back and forth game that needs to be played here. You have to ask yourself: for the product that I’m hoping to build, does $600 psf translate into something that people can actually afford?

You might think: everyone keeps telling me at cocktail parties that condos in this city are too small. So I’m going to build a bunch of 1,800 sf, 3 bedroom condos. Based on the above, these homes would be priced at around $1.08 million (1,800 sf x $600 psf). Your on-site signage would read: “Condos coming soon. From the low $1 millions.”

But wait a minute, how many families can afford a condo north of $1 million? Some could, but definitely not the majority. So then you determine through rigorous market analysis that $600,000 would be a better number. That is something that is within reach of more families.

But then you look at the math and realize that if you build that same 1,800 sf home, your per square foot revenue number now drops to $333 psf ($600,000 / 1,800 sf). 

Given that you bought the land for $100 psf buildable (market price in the area) and that your construction costs alone are going to be $250 psf, you realize that you’re now underwater ($100 + $250 psf > $333 psf) without even adding in any soft costs (consultant fees, city fees, and so on). If you showed this to your investors on the project, they would throw you out of the room.

So instead of building that 3 bedroom condo at 1,800 sf, you say to yourself: what if I made it 1,000 sf? You’re confident that your architect could lay out a terrific condo at that size and it now magically gets your per square foot revenue number back up to $600 psf. 

This solves two problems: it returns the project to positive feasibility and it keeps the total sale price within reach of more people. It promotes greater affordability. So you go ahead and do it. Boom – shrinking urban dwelling.

All of this is not to say that this is fair or unfair, good or bad. It is simply to say that this is the way it often is.

If you’re somebody who has a lot of ideas, it can be pretty easy to get overwhelmed and/or distracted by all of the possibilities. It’s also worse when you’re an optimist and you believe it can all be done. I am definitely guilty of this. It is one of my weaknesses.

We all have a finite amount of time to work with and so saying no to the stuff that isn’t core is critical. I believe I am getting better at this, but every now and then I find myself having to do some pruning. And once I do that, boy does it feel great.

Seth Godin has a fantastic blog post on this topic that I love called, No is essential. Here it is in its entirety (it’s a short post):

“If you believe that you must keep your promises, overdeliver and treat every commitment as though it’s an opportunity for a transformation, the only way you can do this is to turn down most opportunities.

No I can’t meet with you, no I can’t sell it to you at this price, no I can’t do this job justice, no I can’t come to your party, no I can’t help you. I’m sorry, but no, I can’t. Not if I want to do the very things that people value my work for.

No is the foundation that we can build our yes on.”

To drive the point home even further, let’s shift gears and talk about wine. (For all of you fellow wine drinkers.)

In viticulture, overall yield – usually measured in hectoliters per hectare of vineyard – is often seen as an important indicator of quality. The idea being that low yields produce better wines because the flavors get concentrated over fewer grapes. 

Part of what drives this is the leaf to fruit ratio. Too much fruit and not enough leaves, means the grapes won’t ripen properly.

The parallel to this conversation is that leaves are much like time. There’s only so much of it. And while many of us are constantly trying to maximum yield – I know I am – there are limits to the kind and quality of grapes we can produce when we do that. 

I know this in principle. And more and more, I know this in practice. I am learning to say no.

Image from Flickr