I’m going to create a new word: shortcutmaxing.
Shortcutmaxing is the process of using technology, medication, money, or other people to remove as much friction from your life as possible.
Technology has made it easier than ever to do this. So have medical advancements, subscription services, delivery apps, artificial intelligence, and the seemingly endless number of things we can buy to make our lives more convenient.
Most of this is good. Making life easier is part of advancing as a society.
Still, I wonder what happens when we remove so much friction that we also remove the experiences that help us develop.
Think about something as simple as making coffee in the morning.
When we are short on time, going through the drive-through makes sense. You place the order, pick it up, and keep moving. There is nothing wrong with that.
But how often are we actually short on time, and how often do we simply not want to make the coffee ourselves?
Most of us own coffee makers. We have everything we need at home, yet we consistently choose to drive to Starbucks and have someone else make it for us. It probably tastes better than what we would make ourselves, at least at first.
But what if we spent the time learning?
We could try different beans, adjust the measurements, experiment with flavors, and eventually make a cup of coffee exactly how we like it. There is something satisfying about learning how to make something that only you can make to your exact taste.
That is a small example, but I think it points to something much larger.
We pay for DoorDash so we don’t have to cook dinner. Again, sometimes that makes perfect sense. You may have had a long day. You may genuinely not have the time.
Other times, we are paying to avoid the effort.
We miss the process of finding a recipe, choosing fresh ingredients, trying different combinations, tasting the food, and learning how to make something better the next time. We receive the meal, but we lose the opportunity to become a slightly more capable person.
The shortcut gives us the result.
It may also cost us the development hidden inside the process.
GLP-1 medications such as Ozempic have become another popular shortcut, or at least that is how some people choose to use them. These medications can be genuinely helpful, and for some people, they may be medically necessary or life-changing.
The medication can help someone lose weight, but it cannot build strength for them. It cannot spend an hour in the gym for them. It cannot create the discipline, confidence, and consistency that can come from repeatedly doing something difficult.
People can and should exercise while taking these medications. The problem begins when the medicine becomes a replacement for every other part of the process.
Taking a shot may be easier than spending an hour in the gym and watching what you eat.
Is that shortcut worth it?
For some people, yes.
For others, probably not.
The answer depends on the person, the situation, and what they are actually trying to accomplish. Losing weight may be the immediate goal, but becoming stronger, more disciplined, and more confident may be part of the opportunity.
If we only care about the number on the scale, we may miss everything else the process could have given us.
Artificial intelligence presents a similar problem.
AI can help us ask better questions, organize our thoughts, receive feedback, and work through ideas. It can remove tedious work and give people access to capabilities they may not have had before.
That is incredible.
It can also allow us to shortcut the thinking process entirely.
People can generate an entire blog post in seconds and publish it without adding much of themselves. When you read it, you can usually feel the absence. The words may be grammatically correct. The paragraphs may be organized. The point may even make sense.
Still, something feels inauthentic.
What did that shortcut cost the person who published it?
They received the finished blog post, but they missed the creative work required to produce it. They did not have to wrestle with the idea, decide what they believed, find the right words, or sit with the discomfort of not knowing where the piece was going.
Those frustrating parts of writing are often where the actual thinking happens.
The same thing can happen when we use AI to make personal decisions or respond to every uncomfortable situation.
How should I handle this?
What should I say?
Am I right to feel this way?
What should I do next?
There is nothing wrong with asking for another perspective. The danger is allowing that perspective to replace your own judgment.
Eventually, you may stop trusting yourself. You begin to feel as though every decision needs to be confirmed before you can act. Instead of asking yourself what you believe or what you want to do, you immediately reach for the machine.
The tool that was supposed to make you more capable can slowly make you dependent.
Smartphones have created another version of this.
We are more connected to one another than ever, yet many of us struggle to walk up and start a conversation. Sending a message is easier than meeting someone for coffee. A quick text is easier than a phone call. A birthday notification is easier than remembering someone’s birthday on your own.
We remain in contact, but contact is not always connection.
Again, none of these tools are inherently bad.
DoorDash is not bad. Starbucks is not bad. Medication is not bad. AI is not bad. Smartphones are not bad.
The question is whether we are using these things intentionally or using them to avoid every form of discomfort.
Are you ordering food because you genuinely do not have time to cook, or because you do not want to make the effort?
Are you using AI to sharpen your thinking, or to avoid thinking?
Are you texting because it is the best way to reach someone, or because an actual conversation feels uncomfortable?
Are you paying for convenience so you can direct your time toward something more important, or are you simply trying to remove every challenge from your day?
We get to choose which parts of our lives should be easier.
Some friction is pointless. It wastes our time and keeps us from doing work that matters. Removing it gives us more room to focus on our families, our health, our relationships, and the things we care about.
Other forms of friction are valuable.
They teach us patience. They make us creative. They force us to solve problems, trust our judgment, and become more capable. They may be inconvenient, but they are not meaningless.
There is a difference between removing an obstacle and removing an opportunity to grow.
That is why I think we should audit our lives.
Look at the conveniences you pay for. Look at the tools you rely on. Look at the tasks you have automated, outsourced, or removed altogether.
Then ask yourself:
What is this shortcut giving me, and what might it be taking away?
You do not need to cancel every subscription, delete every app, stop using AI, or refuse medical help. That would miss the point.
The goal is not to make life unnecessarily difficult.
The goal is to recognize that some difficult things are worth doing.
When we divert the effort it would have taken to do something, we sometimes rob ourselves of the development hidden inside that effort. We get the meal, the answer, the finished article, or the lower number on the scale.
We get what we wanted.
We just need to make sure we are not shortcutting the person we could have become along the way.