His fingers flew, a dance across the keyboard, each line of code falling into place with satisfying precision. The bug, a particularly stubborn one nested deep in the legacy payment system, was finally yielding. He could feel it – that deep, immersive state where time dissolves, where problem and solver become one. A full 7 minutes of uninterrupted, exhilarating flow. Then, the piercing chime of Slack. An @here tag. “Quick q!” it blinked, an almost cheerful assailant on his mental fortress. It was from Project Manager X, asking about a marketing integration for a new feature slated for, what, three months from now? The question itself took 17 seconds to answer, but the shattered focus, the lost threads of complex logic? That would cost him 47 minutes, maybe more, to rebuild.
This isn’t just about one developer; it’s a silent epidemic. We’ve somehow convinced ourselves that a fast-paced environment, a constant flurry of activity, equates to high performance. We laud responsiveness, celebrating the immediate reply, the quick turnaround, the email sent at 7:00 PM. But what are we actually rewarding? Not thoughtful problem-solving. Not strategic foresight. We’re rewarding the ability to be constantly interrupted, to context-switch at a dizzying pace, and to elevate trivial queries to the status of an emergency. It’s performative urgency, a theatrical display of being ‘busy’ that ultimately undermines the very productivity it claims to foster.
I used to think I was different. I prided myself on






