Lazy Mental Models

As much as I love mental models, most of us barely use them, or even know we’re using them.

What is a mental model. Simply put, it’s our perspective of how something is or works, or should be or should work.

Speaking of, you might wonder, as I did, if a mental model is just a fancy name for a habit? I had to look it up, and here’s the distinction: not quite. A habit is the behaviour itself, the repeated action, done till it’s automatic. A mental model is the thinking underneath it, the belief about how something works, or should work, that the habit exists to serve. The keys-in-a-bowl habit only works because of the model behind it: “things I need on my way out should live in one place, not in whichever pocket I last used.” Change the model, and the habit follows. Change the habit without touching the model, and it rarely sticks.

So, where can you apply it? Where can’t we. And mostly, we already have a few running quietly, simplifying our lives daily.

If you have a bowl for your keys somewhere near the door, that’s a mental model. The now-mechanical habit of dropping your keys in once you get home, and fishing them out before you step out, is that model at work.

Or if you’re someone who gets to a cafe and automatically empties their pockets, wallet, keys, phone, onto the table, that’s a mental model too, perhaps one that lets you sit comfortably.

Or if you always leave your umbrella hooked on the door handle the moment it starts drizzling, so it’s the first thing you see on your way out next time, that’s a model built to outsmart your own forgetfulness.

Mental models can be a superpower we have at our disposal. Identify a great way to get something done, simplify a process, or prevent mistakes on a task, and you can turn it into a process, then a mental model, simply by sticking to it until it becomes a habit.

Thing is, a lot of people don’t even bother creating these models (if you’re one of those eternally misplacing your watch, wallet, keys, or remote around the house, you know exactly what I’m talking about).

But even those who do create models often create lazy ones. Imagine a close, elderly relative living alone in another city, and a hypothetical situation where you decide to send them good coffee daily. You know you’ll have to remember to place the order yourself, every day, on some food app, so you find a place that checks the basic box, and you lock in. Your phone might have a reminder named “Place coffee order at XYC Cafe”. Spend a few more minutes, and you might have found a better cafe even closer to them, or better coffee for the same price. Or even better still, a mental model that only reminds you to place the coffee order each day, where you decide that from Monday to Sunday you will order coffee from one place, and the following week, from a new place. This would give your relative many coffees to try over time and in a few weeks, they might have a favourite you could then finally lock onto. Maybe even contact them for a direct daily delivery, saving the delivery service costs. But the urge to get the task done right away limits how good the model can be.

The last time you needed a plumber urgently is the same story. You called the first number Google gave you, they showed up, fixed the leak, charged more than you expected, and you saved their number as “Plumber.” That’s your model for every plumbing issue from here on, not because they were the best, but because they were first, and urgency doesn’t leave room for comparison.

Lazy models don’t only form under pressure, though, sometimes they form out of sheer repetition. Take the password you use everywhere, with a “1” or “!” tacked on depending on the site’s rules. It’s a real mental model, it saves you the effort of remembering dozens of passwords. But it’s a lazy one, optimized entirely for your convenience today, not for what it’s costing you tomorrow.