Our attention is finite, yet we spend it everywhere but where it matters. This is not a moral failure. It is a structural one. Attention economics is the idea that in a world overflowing with information, human attention becomes the scarce resource. Whoever captures it, holds power. Over time, this has reshaped not just markets, but inner lives. What we notice. What we ignore. What we can tolerate. What we can no longer sit with. For a long time, people warned that television would rot our brains. In hindsight, television looks almost generous. A show required you to stay for forty minutes. A film asked for two hours. A detective story invited you to notice details, to remember names, to hold multiple threads in your mind at once. You watched. You followed. You waited. Listening to music meant staying long enough to learn lyrics. Reading meant sitting with confusion until meaning arrived. Writing a poem meant wrestling with language, not skimming it. Even boredom had a purpose—it ...
A boss promises you a raise once the project succeeds. A partner hints that if you stay patient a little longer, the relationship might “finally move forward.” Politicians campaign on the promise of jobs, better healthcare, or free education—but only after you elect them, again. We live in a society of endless carrots dangled before us, and we, like donkeys, keep moving forward—hoping this time, the promise will be delivered. But is this way of living sustainable, or are we caught in a cycle where we are always testing the waters and rarely diving in? At Work: The Corporate Carrot In Kenya , this practice is almost institutionalized. Employers dangle promotions, salaries, and opportunities with the familiar line: “Just give it time, prove yourself, then we’ll see.” Internships and probationary contracts are prime examples. Some companies keep interns for years, paying a pittance under the guise of “exposure” or “experience.” A graduate earning KSh 15,000 is promised a salary bum...