How long has it been since you picked up your phone and looked at yourself? How often do alarms and notifications tell you when it’s time to join a meeting, leave a meeting, or even take the chicken out of the oven? Whether we realize it or not, we are surrounded by constant reminders on our phones, laptops, tablets and even watches.
This was not always the case. A century ago, very few people knew the exact time at any given time. Individual clocks were rare, and most relied on public signals to guide the day, such as church bells, town clocks, or even the position of the sun. Time was something you experienced more loosely, connected to events rather than specific moments.
My research on planning styles (Avnet & Sellier, 2011; Sellier & Avnet, 2014) identifies two broad ways that people relate to time. Some people rely on external signals, clocks, alarms, and schedules to start, stop, and move through tasks. That’s how I address them clock timers. Others rely more on a gut feeling of finality. They start a task when it is appropriate and continue when they feel finished. These are event timers.
This distinction may seem subtle, but it has meaningful consequences for how people experience the world.
For example, event timers tend to be more “current”. Since they are not constantly watching the clock, they can be more fully engaged in what they are doing. Theirs attention less fragmented and their participation deeper. In contrast, clock timers often divide their attention. Even when working on a task, a part of the day is spent keeping track of the time, looking at the device, waiting for the next transition or mentally calculating how much time is left.
Another important difference has to do with the sense of control. When people put off the clock to determine when it starts and when it ends, they can feel out of control. The clock becomes the authority that shapes their day. In contrast, event timers often feel a sense of personal agency. They feel that they are the ones who determine when something is over and when to move on.
Importantly, my research does not show that one approach is better than another. People naturally tend to gravitate toward one style personalityculture and their environmental norms. A highly structured organization may encourage clock timing, while more flexible or creative settings may favor event timing.
However, there is an important nuance: people can be temporarily moved from one mode to another.
In laboratory settings (Avnet & Sellier, 2011; Sellier & Avnet, 2014), we can induce people to adopt more clock-oriented thinking by surrounding them with time indicators, visible clocks, countdown timers, or frequent reminders. The effect is subtle but reliable. People are more sensitive to time, more likely to observe it, and more likely to let it dictate their behavior. Traditionally, these effects were short-lived.
But in today’s world, the “lab” never dies.
Our digital environment keeps us exposed to time. Every time we check a message, open an app, or look at the screen, the time is clearly visible. Notifications remind us of what’s next in our day. In fact, we are constantly preparing ourselves for the mindset of a clock timer.
For those naturally inclined to set the clock, it can be highly customizable, efficient, organized, and reliable. But for those who are event timers by nature, this constant exposure can create a subtle but persistent sense of discomfort.
In another work I will review the concept suitable (Avnet and Higgins, 2006), the feeling that the way we act is consistent with our natural tendencies. When there is conformity, people feel that it is “right”. They feel more comfortable, trustand prosperity. When there is incompatiblesomething feels off, even if they can’t explain why. There’s a quiet sense of uneasiness, as if the world is pushing them into a mode that doesn’t match how they naturally function.
From this point of view, the proliferation of digital timestamps can do more than keep us in time. This can lead many of us, especially natural event timers, to a fundamentally wrong way of doing things.
So what can we do?
The first step is awareness. Digital devices are not only means of communication and productivity; they are also a strong psychological signal. They shape how we experience time, often without consciously registering it. Recognizing this influence allows us to better understand why we feel rushed, fragmented, or out of sync with ourselves.
The second step is some degree of withdrawal time agency. This certainly does not mean abandoning schedules or rejecting technology altogether. Rather, it involves creating intentional spaces where the clock fades into the background. This might mean working on a task without visible time stamps, turning off non-essential notifications, or allowing certain activities to continue until they’re done, rather than until the timer runs out.
This is not about labeling digital devices as “bad”. They bring undeniable benefits, coordination, efficiency and communication. But they also subtly change our relationships over time, often drawing us into an externally driven experience.
Restoring the balance means allowing both regimes to coexist. There are times when time is of the essence, such as boarding a train, attending a meeting, or coordinating with others. But there must also be moments when we can return to the time of the event, listen to our inner sense of rhythm, immerse ourselves fully, and decide for ourselves when something is done.
At the end of the day, the question is not whether we will remain “clock people.” In many ways, we already are. More importantly, do we have the flexibility to get out of this mode even if it no longer serves us?
