You cannot do it all. The brutal truth is that to be the hero of your own life, you must be willing to be the villain in someone else’s story today.”
The notification lights up your phone screen. It’s a “quick” request. A favor. An urgent email from a client who isn’t actually your client.
Your stomach tightens. You don’t have the time. You definitely don’t have the energy. But the thought of saying “no” — of being the person who let someone down — is physically painful. It triggers a primal alarm in your brain. So, you type “Sure thing!” and add it to a to-do list that is already suffocating you.
We live in the “Always On” Era. It is an age defined by infinite accessibility. At any moment, anyone from your boss to your second cousin can demand a slice of your attention via Slack, WhatsApp, Email, or DM.
Here is the brutal truth that most productivity gurus won’t tell you: You cannot satisfy all of these demands.
The math doesn’t work. The inputs (requests, obligations, content) are infinite, but your throughput (time, energy, focus) is finite. When you try to bridge that gap by “hustling harder” or “waking up at 5 AM,” you don’t achieve balance. You achieve burnout.
The Stoics, writing two thousand years before the iPhone, understood this. They knew that a life well-lived requires a ruthless defense of one’s own time. The solution isn’t better time management. It is a practice I call Strategic Disappointment.
The Biology of Why You Say “Yes” (The Future Stranger)
To understand why we overcommit, we have to look at the brain. Why do we agree to a dinner party three weeks from now that we would dread attending tonight?
Psychologist Hal Hershfield at UCLA has the answer. His research using fMRI scans shows that when we think about our “Future Self,” our brain activity looks nearly identical to when we think about a stranger.
We treat “Future Us” like a dumpster.
We think, “I’m too busy to do this today, but Future Me? That guy will have plenty of time, energy, and patience. Let him deal with it.”
This is a neurological delusion known as Temporal Discounting. We discount the pain of future obligations because they feel abstract. But when that day arrives, the abstraction becomes reality. You are no longer the optimistic planner; you are the exhausted executioner.
Strategic Disappointment requires you to bridge this empathy gap. It requires you to protect “Future You” as fiercely as you would protect your best friend.
The Cost of Universal Likability
We often think a “quick yes” is harmless. Just a five-minute chat. Just one quick email.
Research from the University of California, Irvine, led by Gloria Mark, paints a darker picture. She found that when your focus is interrupted, it takes an average of 23 minutes and 15 seconds to get back on track.
That “quick” five-minute favor didn’t cost you five minutes. It costs you nearly half an hour of cognitive depth. If you say “yes” to three minor interruptions in an afternoon, you have effectively destroyed your ability to do deep work for the entire day.
Seneca, the Roman statesman and philosopher, warned us about this wastefulness long ago in his essay On the Shortness of Life:
“People are frugal in guarding their personal property; but as soon as it comes to squandering time they are most wasteful of the one thing in which it is right to be stingy.”
If a stranger walked up to you and asked for $100 from your wallet, you would likely hesitate. But if they ask for an hour of your time (which is non-renewable and arguably worth more than $100), we hand it over without a second thought to avoid being “rude.”
The Reframing: “Nice” is Often Dishonest
This is the hardest pill to swallow for the chronic people-pleaser.
We tell ourselves we are saying “yes” because we are kind. But often, we are saying “yes” because we are cowardly. We are afraid of the momentary discomfort of a refusal, so we choose the long-term resentment of a commitment we don’t want.
When you say “yes” to a commitment you resent, you aren’t being nice. You are lying.
You are making a promise you cannot fulfill with excellence. You are agreeing to be present physically while resentful mentally. That is not a kindness to the other person. They deserve someone who actually wants to be there.
Strategic Disappointment is actually a form of integrity. It is the honesty to say: “I respect you too much to give you half-assed attention.”
How to Execute Strategic Disappointment
You cannot execute this philosophy with willpower alone. You need a system. Here is the framework for reclaiming your life.
1. The 90% Rule
Greg McKeown, author of Essentialism, suggests a brutal metric for decision-making. The problem isn’t usually saying no to bad ideas; it’s saying no to good ideas so you have room for great ones.
When you receive a request, rate your interest on a scale of 0 to 100.
Here is the rule: If it’s not a 90, it’s a zero.
Anything between 70 and 89 is the danger zone. These are the “pretty good” opportunities — the coffee chats, the secondary projects, the mild social obligations — that clutter our lives. They are the barnacles on the hull of your ship, slowing you down.
The Stoic deletes the 70s to make room for the 90s.
2. Categorize Your Balls (Glass vs. Rubber)
We often feel like we are juggling a hundred balls at once. But not all balls are created equal.
In the 1990s, Bryan Dyson (former CEO of Coca-Cola) gave a commencement speech that perfectly aligns with Stoic philosophy. He suggested imagining life as a game of juggling five balls: Work, Family, Health, Friends, and Spirit.
- Work is a rubber ball. If you drop it (miss a deadline, decline a meeting, disappoint a boss), it will bounce back. You can find another job. You can apologize. The system recovers.
- Family, Health, Friends, and Spirit are glass balls. If you drop them, they are irrevocably scuffed, nicked, or shattered. They do not bounce.
Most of us spend our lives frantically catching rubber balls while the glass ones shatter on the floor.
Strategic Disappointment is the conscious act of looking at a Rubber Ball — an invite to a coffee chat you don’t have time for, or a committee you don’t care about — and watching it hit the ground. Boing. It’s fine. The world keeps turning.
3. Leverage the “Spotlight Effect.”
The fear of disappointing others is often based on a delusion. We think our “no” will devastate them. We imagine them sitting at home, ruminating on our rejection.
Cornell University psychologists coined this “The Spotlight Effect.” It refers to our tendency to massively overestimate how much others notice or care about our actions.
The reality? That person you’re afraid to disappoint is likely too worried about their own overflowing inbox, their own sick kid, or their own insecurities to dwell on your rejection for more than 30 seconds.
You are agonizing over a decision they will forget by lunch.
The “No” Without Apology (The Explanation Tax)
The most exhausting part of saying no is the “Explanation Tax.” These are the three paragraphs of excuses we invent to soften the blow.
- “I’m so so sorry, I would love to, but my cat is sick and my car broke down and…”
Stop paying the tax.
When you over-explain, two things happen:
- You sound guilty. This makes the other person feel like they have been wronged.
- You give them leverage. If you say, “I can’t because I’m busy Tuesday,” they will say, “How about Wednesday?”
A Stoic “no” is polite, firm, and brief. It protects your time without managing the other person’s emotions.
The Templates:
- The Soft No: “I’m flattered you asked, but my schedule is at capacity right now so I won’t be able to help.”
- The Hard No: “I can’t make that a priority this quarter.”
- The “De-ferral”: “I’m heads-down on a project right now. Feel free to circle back in a month.” (Only use this if you mean it).
Note what is missing: “Sorry.” You do not need to apologize for prioritizing your existing commitments over new ones.
The Paradox of Respect
Here is the strange, counter-intuitive outcome of this practice: People respect you more, not less.
When you are always available, your time is perceived as cheap. Supply and demand apply to you, too. If your supply of time is infinite, its value is zero.
When you practice Strategic Disappointment, you signal that your time is valuable. You signal that you have a purpose that is higher than “being liked.” People stop bringing you nonsense. They start bringing you only what matters.
Your Challenge for Today
Reading this article is easy. Living it is hard.
You are going to disappoint someone today. It is inevitable. The only choice you have is whether that disappointment happens by accident or on purpose.
You can either let it happen by accident — snapping at your spouse because you’re drained from answering emails you should have ignored — or you can make it happen on purpose, by deleting the email so you have energy for your spouse.
Pick one thing to say “no” to today. Pick one person to disappoint.
- Ignore the text.
- Decline the meeting.
- Leave the dishes in the sink to play with your kids.
Reclaim your peace. Let the rubber balls bounce.
About the Author
I am a #1 international best-selling author and coach obsessed with helping you live with clarity and purpose. My work blends psychology, leadership, and heartfelt storytelling to help you slow down and reclaim your focus.
Whether I am writing books like The Magic of a Moment and Embracing Retirement, or speaking on stage, my goal is the same: to help you design a life that reflects who you truly want to become. Join me as we learn to notice the moments, choose intentional action, and step into the life we were meant to live.
Connect with me and discover more at garyfretwell.com.
