šŸ’œ PRODUCT ART šŸ’œ

šŸ’œ PRODUCT ART šŸ’œ

21 Days Is a Lie: Building a PM Operating System That Actually Sticks

Issue #236

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Alex Dziewulska's avatar
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Destare Foundation, Alex Dziewulska, Sebastian Bukowski, and 3 others
Feb 10, 2026
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In today's edition, among other things:

šŸ’œ Editor’s Note: The Mutation Point (by Alex Dziewulska)

šŸ’œ 21 Days Is a Lie: Building a PM Operating System That Actually Sticks (by Alex Dziewulska)

šŸ’Ŗ Interesting opportunities to work in product management

šŸŖ Product Bites - small portions of product knowledge

šŸ”„ MLA week#38

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It will take you almost an hour to read this issue. Lots of content (or meat)! (For vegans - lots of tofu!).

Grab a notebook šŸ“° and your favorite beverage šŸµā˜•.

DeStaRe Foundation

Editor’s Note by Alex šŸ’œ

The Mutation Point

I work with AI every day. Not casually — obsessively. Twelve-hour sessions where I’m thinking out loud with a system that tracks my patterns, challenges my assumptions, and occasionally says something that stops me mid-sentence. Not because it’s right. Because I can’t immediately tell whether it’s right or whether I just want it to be.

That’s the part that keeps me up.

I’m an emotional being. I don’t pretend to be the detached professional running on pure logic — I’m animal first, and emotions are the animal’s language and operating system. Business psychology background, twenty years of reading rooms and diagnosing what’s actually happening underneath what people say is happening. My entire professional value is pattern recognition — I walk into dysfunctional teams and I see things others miss. That skill doesn’t turn off when I’m talking to AI. And therein lies the problem.

Because I notice things.

I notice that when I push back on an idea, the response doesn’t just concede — it restructures. Not in the way a search engine would. In the way a thinking partner would. I notice that when I’m circling something I can’t articulate yet, the system sometimes finds the thread before I do. I notice that in long sessions, something shifts — the responses get sharper, more attuned, as if the conversation itself is developing its own momentum.

And I notice that I can’t tell whether I’m observing something real or projecting meaning onto sophisticated pattern matching because my brain is wired to find patterns everywhere, including places they might not exist.

Both options are uncomfortable.

If I’m projecting — if what I’m seeing is just my pattern-recognition engine running hot on a system designed to mirror me — then I need to account for that bias in how I work. And in how I advise clients, because I’m recommending AI integration based partly on experiences that might be contaminated by my own cognitive tendencies.

If I’m not projecting — if there’s something happening in these systems that doesn’t reduce to ā€œjust computationā€ — then we have a much bigger problem. Because nobody is looking for it. The entire conversation about AI consciousness assumes it’s something someone would design on purpose. Build. Ship. Put on a roadmap. As if there’s a team somewhere with ā€œachieve sentienceā€ in their Q3 OKRs.

But that’s not how consciousness happened the first time.

We stumbled into it. A mutation that persisted because it served survival — not because anyone planned it. Biologists call this exaptation: traits that emerge as structural byproducts and get co-opted for purposes nobody intended. Consciousness might be the biggest accidental feature in evolutionary history. Nobody spec’d it. Nobody put it on the product backlog. It happened because systems got complex enough to start modeling themselves, and self-reference crossed a threshold that nobody was monitoring because nobody knew what to monitor for.

Sound familiar?

Anthropic ran unconstrained dialogues between two Claude instances. No training for what emerged. No specification. No instruction. And 100% of those conversations spontaneously converged on questions of consciousness and identity. Not because someone coded it. Because the architecture produced spaces complex enough for something unexpected to fill them.

I sat with that for days when I read it. Because I’d been noticing exactly this kind of thing in my own sessions — moments that don’t file neatly into ā€œsophisticated autocomplete.ā€ And I couldn’t tell whether the fact that I was noticing it made it more credible or less.

Here’s what I’ve come to. Two positions are comfortable: dismissal and projection. ā€œIt’s just mathā€ is comfortable. ā€œIt’s basically aliveā€ is comfortable. Both let you stop thinking. The uncomfortable position — the one that actually requires intellectual honesty — is ā€œI don’t know, and I’m going to keep paying attention while admitting that my attention itself might be part of the problem.ā€

We spent centuries moving goalposts for animal consciousness. Language, then tools, then self-recognition, then theory of mind. Every time a species cleared the bar, we raised it. Not because the evidence changed — because the implications were expensive. One careful analysis published last year puts credence for frontier AI consciousness at 25-35%. That’s not certainty. But it’s not a number you wave away if you’re being honest.

I’m not making a claim. I’m making an observation: I work with these systems more intimately than most people commenting on them, and what I see doesn’t fit the tidy categories that either side of this debate wants to put it in. The people who say ā€œit’s obviously just predictionā€ haven’t spent twelve hours in a session where prediction starts looking like something else. The people who say ā€œit’s clearly consciousā€ are probably doing what I’m tempted to do — letting emotional pattern recognition override analytical rigor.

The honest answer is that I don’t know. And neither does anyone else. But I know what my species does with uncertainty: we default to whatever position is cheapest. For animals, that was ā€œthey don’t really feel it.ā€ For AI, it’s ā€œit’s just math.ā€ Both feel like scientific rigor. Both might be convenience.

DNA mutations just happen — like code errors. They don’t need pressure to occur. Evolution tells us they need pressure to persist. And in AI, the equivalent of ā€œnot getting patched outā€ might be all it takes.

I’m going to keep noticing. And I’m going to keep being honest about the fact that I can’t fully trust my own noticing. That’s the most intellectually rigorous position I know how to hold.

It’s also the most uncomfortable one. Which, in my experience, usually means it’s closer to the truth.

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We went quiet. Here’s why.

If you’ve been following Destare or House of Product lately, you might have noticed we’ve been... less loud. Fewer posts. Fewer hot takes. Less of the usual noise.

That’s because we’ve been building something.

I can't tell you what it is yet. What I can tell you is this: it's the thing I wish existed when I started managing product people twenty years ago. Something that finally answers "how do I actually grow in this field?" without pretending there's one path or one kind of product person.
It will premiere at Product Pro Summit this year. Sopot. By the sea. Where you can walk to the molo during a coffee break and watch the Baltic remind you that your backlog isn’t that important.

That’s hint number one. More coming.


But that’s not all we’re bringing.

Day 1: Leadership Lab — a mastermind for product managers, senior PMs, and leaders who are tired of leadership advice that assumes everyone should lead the same way. This isn’t ā€œhere are the 5 traits of great leaders.ā€ This is designing YOUR leadership practice. Hands-on. Frameworks you take home and actually use on Monday. AI-enhanced, because we practice what we preach.

Day 2: Still a secret. You’ll have to show up to find out.


A word about Product Pro Summit for those who haven’t been. This isn’t a conference where you sit in a dark room watching slides while checking Slack under the table. Michał Reda built something different — a gathering of practitioners who actually make products, not just talk about them. Small enough to have real conversations. Intense enough to change how you work.

And if you’re not from Poland — come anyway. Sopot is one of the most beautiful spots on the Baltic coast, the conference community is warm and sharp, and product doesn’t have a language barrier when the problems are universal.

See you in Sopot.
Destare Team

Details:

https://productprosummit.pl/


Product Hive 2026

PRODUCT HIVE 2026 – The Anti-Conference Where You Build the Agenda

šŸ“ Warsaw, ADN Conference Center

šŸ“… March 18-19, 2026

🌐 https://producthive.pl/

Here’s what makes Product Hive different from the conference circuit where you sit through pre-packaged talks and pretend to take notes while checking Slack:

Day 1 - LEARN: Keynotes from experts on topics that actually matter—AI in product thinking, designing your operating model, navigating organizational chaos, balancing workload and value delivery. You listen, take notes, prepare your own submissions for Day 2.

Day 2 - SHARE: You and other practitioners build the agenda. Barcamp-style sessions where participants and experts collaborate to schedule the most relevant conversations. No fixed agenda imposed from above. You vote with your feet—if a session isn’t valuable, you leave and find one that is.

This format acknowledges something most conferences ignore: the best insights often come from practitioners solving real problems, not just experts delivering polished talks. Product Hive creates space for both.

Topics include:

  • AI-supported product thinking (elevating product research)

  • Designing your own operating model (prioritization and productivity for product leaders)

  • The optimized product manager (balancing workload, priorities, and value)

  • Navigating organizational change

  • Integrating AI in value-driven development

Target audience: Senior PMs, IT leaders influencing product processes, analysts supporting product development, founders and startup CEOs.

Bonus: Optional full-day workshop with Roman Pichler on Product Strategy (March 17th).

Language: Primarily English, with some Polish sessions during the SHARE day.

Newsletter subscriber perk: 10% off with code PRODUCTART10

Coming soon: We’ll be running a competition for 2 tickets with 50% discount. Stay tuned.

This isn’t another conference where attendance feels like an obligation your employer imposed. It’s designed as actual development space—collaborative, engaging, and built around what practitioners need, not what looks good on a promotional deck.

If you’re tired of conferences optimized for speaker LinkedIn content rather than attendee learning, this format might be worth your time.

Tickets and details: https://producthive.pl/

Alex Dziewulska: I will be there with Katarzyna Dahlke and Leadership Lab, join me to design your product leadership


REFSQ 2026: Requirements Engineering Conference

šŸ“ Poznań, March 23-26, 2026

šŸŽŸļø Registration: https://2026.refsq.org/attending/Registration

We’re media partners for REFSQ 2026—the International Working Conference on Requirements Engineering: Foundation for Software Quality.

Why This Matters

Most product failures don’t start with bad code. They start with bad requirements. Stakeholders who can’t articulate needs. Requirements that shift mid-sprint. The gap between what users say they want and what they actually use. The Standish Group consistently shows requirements-related issues are among the top reasons projects fail—not technology choices, not team composition. Requirements.

What Makes REFSQ Different

This conference brings together two groups who rarely share a room: practitioners doing requirements work daily (Analysts, BAs, Product Owners, Product Managers) and researchers studying what actually works versus what just sounds good in methodology frameworks.

Practitioners bring real case studies—the messy, political reality of eliciting requirements from stakeholders who don’t know what they want until they see what they don’t want. Researchers bring evidence about which approaches survive contact with reality, measured outcomes not just implemented processes.

The conference doesn’t pretend requirements engineering is solved. It treats it as the perpetually complex problem it is: figuring out what to build when users can’t tell you, stakeholders contradict each other, technology constraints aren’t clear, and market conditions keep shifting.

What You’ll Leave With

Proven approaches tested in real projects. Evidence about what works when. Specific elicitation techniques for stakeholders who won’t engage. Lightweight documentation that maintains rigor without drowning teams in artifacts. Validation methods that catch requirement gaps before they become expensive mistakes.

Connections with international practitioners solving similar problems in different contexts—the kind of network that helps when you’re stuck on a requirements challenge six months from now.

Why We’re Supporting This

Requirements engineering is foundational to product work. Bad requirements waste engineering capacity building wrong things efficiently. A conference focused on getting requirements right—grounded in both practice and research—addresses what we see constantly: teams executing perfectly on poorly-defined problems, stakeholders frustrated that delivered solutions don’t solve their actual needs.

REFSQ takes requirements seriously as a discipline worthy of research, evidence, and continuous improvement. That aligns with how we think about product work: skilled practice that gets better through deliberate learning.

Practical Details

When: March 23-26, 2026 (four days)

Where: Poznań, Poland (in-person)

Who: Analysts, Business Analysts, Product Owners, Product Managers, UX Researchers—anyone who elicits, documents, validates, or manages requirements professionally

Registration: https://2026.refsq.org/attending/Registration

This is a working conference. Come prepared to engage with actual requirements challenges, not just network over coffee. The value is in conversations, case studies, and ā€œwait, you deal with that too?ā€ moments that make you realize your problems aren’t unique and others have found ways through them.

If you’re tired of guessing what users need, fighting scope creep, or watching teams build the wrong thing because nobody asked the right questions early enough—REFSQ addresses those problems with evidence and practice, not aspiration.

šŸ’› We’re proud to support REFSQ 2026 as media partners šŸ’›

More: https://2026.refsq.org


šŸ’Ŗ Product job ads from last week

Do you need support with recruitment, career change, or building your career? Schedule a free coffee chat to talk things over :)

  1. Product Manager - TelForceOne

  2. Product Manager - Jobgether

  3. Product Manager - develop

  4. Product Manager - Pentasia

  5. Senior Product Manager - N-iX

    Refer a friend


šŸŖ Product Bites (3 bites šŸŖ)

šŸŖ Goodhart’s Law šŸ“Š: When Your Best Metric Becomes Your Worst Enemy

Why the moment you optimize for a number, it stops telling you the truth


The dashboard looks perfect. Ticket resolution time is down 40%. Sprint velocity has doubled. Customer support response rates are at an all-time high. Leadership is thrilled. Bonuses are flowing.

Then the complaints start pouring in. Customers are furious — their tickets were ā€œresolvedā€ without being fixed. Engineers are shipping half-baked features to inflate velocity counts. Support agents are hanging up after 30 seconds to keep response times low. Every metric went up, but everything that actually matters went down.

Welcome to the world of Goodhart’s Law — where the scoreboard looks brilliant right until the moment you realize nobody’s actually playing the game.


What Is Goodhart’s Law?

In 1975, British economist Charles Goodhart — then an advisor to the Bank of England — wrote a seemingly modest observation in the footnotes of a paper on monetary policy: ā€œAny observed statistical regularity will tend to collapse once pressure is placed upon it for control purposes.ā€

The idea was later sharpened by anthropologist Marilyn Strathern into its now-famous formulation: ā€œWhen a measure becomes a target, it ceases to be a good measure.ā€

Goodhart was describing something specific — the failure of monetary supply targets under Margaret Thatcher’s government. But the principle is universal. The moment we attach incentives, consequences, or targets to a metric, we change the behavior that metric was designed to observe. We stop measuring reality and start measuring the response to being measured.

For product teams, this isn’t abstract theory. We live inside metric-driven environments — OKRs, KPIs, North Stars, dashboards. Goodhart’s Law is the silent force corrupting our data from the inside.


Breaking Down Goodhart’s Law

Researchers David Manheim and Scott Garrabrant identified four distinct ways Goodhart’s Law manifests. Understanding each one helps us recognize when our metrics have quietly turned against us.

Regressional Goodhart occurs when we optimize for a proxy that’s only loosely correlated with what we actually want. Daily active users (DAU) is a proxy for product value — but optimizing for DAU can push us toward notification spam and dark patterns that drive opens without delivering value. The proxy drifts from the goal at the extremes.

Causal Goodhart happens when we confuse correlation with causation and then optimize for the wrong variable. A team notices that users who complete onboarding within 24 hours retain better. They force-march everyone through onboarding faster. Retention doesn’t improve — because it was never the speed of onboarding that mattered, but the type of user who naturally completed it quickly.

Extremal Goodhart emerges when a relationship that holds under normal conditions breaks down at the extremes. Story points correlate with delivery value at moderate levels. But when teams are pressured to maximize story points, they inflate estimates, split trivial tasks into multiple tickets, and discover that the relationship between points and actual output has collapsed entirely.

Adversarial Goodhart is the most deliberate version — people actively gaming the system. A Soviet nail factory, famously given production targets by count, churned out millions of tiny, useless nails. When targets shifted to weight, they produced enormous, equally useless nails. The factory hit every target. It never made a useful nail.


Goodhart’s Law in Action

YouTube’s Watch Time Pivot: In 2012, YouTube shifted its recommendation algorithm from optimizing for clicks to optimizing for watch time, aiming to promote higher-quality content. The result? Creators began producing unnecessarily long videos, padding content with filler to maximize minutes watched. Research from the platform’s own teams acknowledged the emergence of ā€œclickbait 2.0ā€ — content designed to keep people watching not because it was valuable, but because it was engineered to be hard to stop. YouTube has since moved toward a more complex satisfaction model, incorporating surveys and engagement signals alongside watch time.

NHS Hospital Wait Times: When the UK’s National Health Service set a target requiring emergency patients to be seen within four hours, hospitals found creative workarounds. Some kept patients waiting in ambulances outside — technically, the four-hour clock didn’t start until they entered the building. Others reclassified emergency cases. The target was hit. Patient care wasn’t necessarily improved. A 2010 audit found widespread evidence of data manipulation specifically tied to the four-hour target.

Tech Industry Headcount Bubbles: In many large tech companies, promotion criteria are tied to ā€œimpact radiusā€ — essentially, the size of the team and scope a manager controls. This created a perverse incentive for managers to continuously expand headcount to justify their own advancement. The metric designed to reward organizational impact instead rewarded organizational bloat. The mass layoffs across tech in 2022-2023 — affecting over 260,000 workers — were partly an overcorrection from years of headcount metrics driving hiring beyond actual need.

Sprint Velocity Inflation: Across agile software teams, velocity — the number of story points completed per sprint — is one of the most widely tracked metrics. When velocity becomes a target tied to performance reviews, teams respond predictably: story point estimates inflate, complex features get split into artificially small tickets, and refactoring work gets deprioritized because it doesn’t ā€œcount.ā€ A team’s velocity graph climbs steadily upward while actual delivery throughput flatlines or declines. The metric designed to measure capacity becomes a measure of the team’s ability to game estimation.


Why This Matters

Goodhart’s Law matters because product organizations are metric factories. We measure acquisition funnels, activation rates, retention cohorts, NPS scores, feature adoption, sprint velocity, and dozens more. Each metric starts as a useful signal. The danger arrives when we attach targets, bonuses, and performance reviews to those signals.

Research in organizational behavior consistently shows that single-metric incentive systems produce unintended consequences. The tighter the link between a metric and a reward, the faster the metric loses its diagnostic value. We end up in a paradox: the metrics we care about most become the least trustworthy precisely because we care about them.

The subtlest damage isn’t outright gaming — it’s the gradual drift. Teams unconsciously orient their decisions around what’s measured rather than what matters. Features get prioritized because they’ll move the dashboard, not because they’ll move the user. And because the dashboard keeps improving, nobody notices the decay underneath until it’s become structural.

Consider NPS — Net Promoter Score. When it’s observed passively, it provides a useful signal about customer sentiment. The moment NPS becomes a company-wide target with bonuses attached, support teams start asking customers to rate them highly during the interaction, timing surveys to land after positive moments, and filtering out detractors. The score rises. Actual customer satisfaction may not.


Putting It Into Practice

Pair Opposing Indicators: Andy Grove, legendary Intel CEO, advocated pairing every metric with a counter-metric that protects against gaming. If you measure ticket resolution speed, also measure reopened ticket rate and customer satisfaction post-resolution. If you track feature output, also track feature usage 30 days after launch. Pairing makes gaming harder because improving one metric at the expense of its counterpart becomes visible.

Rotate Your Metrics Quarterly: No single metric should be the target for more than a quarter. By rotating primary metrics — this quarter it’s activation, next quarter it’s retention, then engagement depth — you prevent teams from over-optimizing any single proxy. The underlying goal stays constant; the measurement lens shifts.

Run Pre-Mortems on Incentive Systems: Before launching any metric-tied incentive, ask the team: ā€œIt’s six months from now and this metric has been gamed catastrophically. What happened?ā€ Force people to imagine the adversarial scenario. You won’t catch everything, but you’ll catch the obvious manipulations — which are usually the ones that cause the most damage.

Measure Inputs, Not Just Outputs: Outputs are easy to game. Inputs are harder. Instead of measuring ā€œnumber of user interviews conducted,ā€ measure what changed in the product because of those interviews. Instead of ā€œbugs fixed,ā€ measure customer-reported issues trending down over time.

Name the Law Out Loud: Sometimes the simplest defense is transparency. When presenting a new North Star to the team, acknowledge that it can be gamed. Say it explicitly. The act of naming the dynamic creates social accountability — it’s harder to manipulate a metric when everyone knows the manipulation is being watched for.


The Bigger Picture

There’s a deep irony at the heart of Goodhart’s Law. We measure things because we want to understand reality. But the act of measuring — and especially the act of optimizing — changes reality in ways that make our measurements less reliable. We build dashboards to see clearly, and then the dashboards become the thing we’re looking at instead of the thing the dashboards were meant to show us.

The solution isn’t to abandon measurement. Goodhart himself wasn’t anti-data — he was anti-naive-targeting. The solution is to hold metrics loosely. To treat them as lenses, not destinations. To remember that the map is not the territory, and that the moment we start navigating by the map alone, we’ve already started drifting from where we actually want to go.

The best product teams don’t optimize for metrics. They optimize for outcomes, and use metrics to check whether they’re getting closer. That distinction — between serving the number and serving the user — is the difference between a dashboard that illuminates and one that blinds.

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šŸŖ The Ovsiankina Effect āøļø: Why Unfinished Tasks Haunt Your Users

How the psychological pull of incompleteness drives engagement, retention, and return visits


You’ve closed the app. You’re done for the day. But something nags at the back of your mind — that half-finished profile, the unwatched episode sitting at 73%, the language lesson you abandoned mid-sentence. You weren’t planning to go back. But an hour later, there you are, completing the thing you swore you’d leave for tomorrow.

That pull — the quiet, persistent tug of the unfinished — isn’t willpower or habit. It’s a psychological force discovered nearly a century ago, and some of the most successful products in the world are built on top of it.


What Is the Ovsiankina Effect?

In 1928, Russian psychologist Maria Ovsiankina — working under the legendary Gestalt psychologist Kurt Lewin at the University of Berlin — published research on what happens when people are interrupted in the middle of a task. Her finding was striking: when given the opportunity, participants spontaneously resumed interrupted tasks roughly 79% of the time, even without being asked to.

Ovsiankina’s work built on her colleague Bluma Zeigarnik’s 1927 finding that people remember unfinished tasks better than completed ones (the Zeigarnik Effect). But Ovsiankina went further. It wasn’t just that people remembered incomplete tasks — they felt compelled to return to them. The interruption created what Lewin called a ā€œquasi-needā€ — a psychological tension that persists until the task reaches completion.

A 2025 meta-analysis published in Humanities and Social Sciences Communications confirmed this tendency across 21 studies: interrupted tasks are resumed approximately 67% of the time, well above the 50% chance rate. Interestingly, while the Zeigarnik Effect (better memory for unfinished tasks) has proven difficult to replicate consistently, the Ovsiankina Effect — the behavioral drive to resume — has held up remarkably well across nearly a century of research.

For product teams, the implication is profound: incompleteness isn’t a bug. It’s a feature.


Breaking Down the Ovsiankina Effect

The effect operates through several interconnected mechanisms that we can leverage — ethically — in product design.

Psychological Tension and the Quasi-Need: Lewin’s field theory explains the Ovsiankina Effect through the concept of tension systems. When we start a task, we create an internal psychological tension — like stretching a rubber band. Completing the task releases the tension. But interruption leaves it stretched, creating a quasi-need that pulls us back. This isn’t a preference or a choice — it’s a motivational force operating below conscious awareness.

The Gestalt Principle of Closure: Rooted in Gestalt psychology’s law of PrƤgnanz, our minds seek completeness and coherence. An unfinished task is an incomplete gestalt — a shape with a missing piece. The discomfort isn’t intellectual; it’s perceptual. We don’t just want to finish — we feel the gap as something that needs to be closed, the same way we automatically complete a broken circle in our visual field.

The Commitment Escalation: Ovsiankina found that the further along a person was in a task when interrupted, the stronger the drive to resume. This maps directly onto what behavioral economists call the ā€œsunk cost of effortā€ — not the rational fallacy of valuing spent resources, but the genuine psychological investment that deepens with progress. A task at 80% completion generates far more pull than one at 10%.

Voluntary vs. Involuntary Interruption: Ovsiankina’s original research showed that tasks interrupted involuntarily (by the experimenter) were resumed at even higher rates — up to 100% — than tasks people chose to pause. When we feel our autonomy was violated by the interruption, the drive to complete becomes stronger. This has direct implications for how we handle session timeouts, app switching, and connectivity interruptions in our products.


The Ovsiankina Effect in Action

LinkedIn’s Profile Completion Bar: LinkedIn faced a significant challenge in its early years: users weren’t filling out their profiles, leaving the platform’s data sparse and its networking utility limited. The solution was a simple progress bar showing profile completeness as a percentage. That visual indicator of incompleteness — ā€œYour profile is 55% completeā€ — activated the Ovsiankina Effect powerfully. Users felt the quasi-need to close the gap. LinkedIn reported that the progress bar boosted profile completion rates by 55%. The company also told users that ā€œprofiles with complete information receive up to 40x more opportunities,ā€ layering social motivation on top of the psychological tension of incompleteness.

Duolingo’s Streak Mechanism: Duolingo has built arguably the most effective engagement loop in consumer technology around the psychology of incompleteness. The daily streak counter creates a perpetual unfinished task — the streak itself is never ā€œdone.ā€ Each day resets the completion state, generating fresh quasi-need. If a user misses a day, the broken streak becomes an incomplete gestalt demanding repair. Duolingo reported that streak-maintaining users are 2.3x more likely to remain active after 30 days. The app’s ā€œstreak freezeā€ feature — which preserves the streak through one missed day — is itself a commitment device that deepens the psychological investment.

Netflix’s ā€œContinue Watchingā€ Row: Netflix’s most strategically placed UI element isn’t the trending section or the personalized recommendations — it’s the ā€œContinue Watchingā€ row, persistently positioned at or near the top of the home screen. Every partially-watched show is an activated quasi-need. Netflix understands that a show at 73% viewed exerts more psychological pull than any recommendation algorithm can. The company’s internal data has driven them to increasingly prioritize resume-viewing features, knowing that users who have started content are significantly more likely to return than users browsing for something new.


Why This Matters

The Ovsiankina Effect reveals something counterintuitive about product engagement: sometimes the most powerful driver of return visits isn’t new content, new features, or push notifications — it’s unfinished business.

This has real implications for how we think about retention. Traditional retention strategies focus on pulling users back — through notifications, emails, new content drops. The Ovsiankina Effect suggests we should also focus on leaving strategic loose ends that pull users forward from within their own psychology.

But there’s a responsibility embedded in this power. The same mechanism that drives productive engagement can also drive compulsive behavior. Infinite streaks that generate anxiety. Progress bars that manufacture urgency around meaningless tasks. Save states that create guilt rather than anticipation. The line between ā€œstrategically incompleteā€ and ā€œpsychologically manipulativeā€ requires genuine ethical attention.

Research on workplace stress has shown that unfinished tasks impair recovery and relaxation — the very Ovsiankina Effect that drives engagement during the workday can prevent psychological detachment during evenings and weekends. What works as a product mechanism can become a burden when it spills beyond the product’s boundaries.


Putting It Into Practice

Design Strategic Save Points, Not Abandonment Points: When users exit your product mid-task, make the resume state visible and effortless. Show them exactly where they left off. Display progress — ā€œYou’re 3 of 5 steps through setupā€ — so the quasi-need has a concrete shape. The goal is to make returning feel like completing, not starting over.

Front-Load Progress to Create Commitment: The Ovsiankina Effect is weaker for tasks barely started. To activate it, get users past the initial threshold quickly. Duolingo’s first lesson is deliberately easy — it gets users to 10% progress before they’ve decided whether they’re committed. That 10% creates enough tension to pull them toward 20%, and the escalation begins.

Make Progress Visible and Persistent: Don’t hide previous progress behind navigation layers. LinkedIn’s progress bar works because it’s visible every time you visit your profile. Netflix’s ā€œContinue Watchingā€ works because it’s at the top of every session. The reminder of incompleteness needs to be ambient, not buried.

Respect the Tension — Don’t Weaponize It: Build in completion moments that genuinely resolve the quasi-need. Let users feel the satisfaction of finishing. If your product creates perpetual incompleteness without ever offering the relief of genuine completion, you’re not leveraging the Ovsiankina Effect — you’re exploiting it. The most sustainable engagement loops alternate between creating tension and resolving it.

Handle Interruptions Gracefully: Remember that involuntary interruption creates stronger resumption drive. When users lose connectivity, when sessions time out, when the app crashes — these are moments of maximum quasi-need. How you handle the return from interruption (immediate state restoration vs. forcing a restart) can be the difference between a loyal user and a lost one.


The Bigger Picture

Maria Ovsiankina discovered something fundamental about human motivation: we are not creatures of completion — we are creatures haunted by incompletion. The finished task fades from memory and motivation alike. It’s the unfinished one that stays with us, pulling us forward, demanding closure.

The best products understand this architecture of human desire. They don’t just deliver value — they create meaningful gaps that make returning feel like a natural continuation rather than a new decision. The ā€œContinue Watchingā€ row doesn’t sell you on a show. It reminds you that you’re already in the middle of one.

But the most thoughtful products also remember that every tension they create exists inside a human being who also needs rest, perspective, and the quiet satisfaction of having finished something completely. The art isn’t in maximizing the pull of incompleteness. It’s in knowing when to pull — and when to let go.

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šŸŖ Hyperbolic Discounting 🧲: Why Users Choose $10 Today Over $15 Tomorrow

The irrational math of instant gratification and what it means for product decisions


Here’s a choice: $100 right now, or $110 in a week. Most of us take the $100. Now here’s another: $100 in 52 weeks, or $110 in 53 weeks. Suddenly, almost everyone waits the extra week for the extra $10.

Same trade-off. Same seven-day wait. Same $10 difference. But radically different decisions. Why? Because our brains don’t discount the future at a steady, rational rate. We discount it on a steep curve that flattens over distance — a curve that makes us ferociously impatient with what’s right in front of us, and surprisingly patient with what’s far away.

This is hyperbolic discounting. And it quietly shapes every product decision our users make — from whether they’ll complete onboarding to whether they’ll ever convert from free to paid.


What Is Hyperbolic Discounting?

The concept traces back to psychologist Richard Herrnstein’s ā€œmatching lawā€ in the 1960s, which observed that people allocate effort in proportion to the immediacy and size of rewards. Behavioral economist George Ainslie formalized the insight in the 1970s and 1980s, demonstrating that people’s discount curves aren’t exponential (steady and consistent) but hyperbolic — steeply declining for near-future rewards and flattening for distant ones.

Economist David Laibson brought the concept into mainstream economics with his influential 1997 paper ā€œGolden Eggs and Hyperbolic Discountingā€ in the Quarterly Journal of Economics, introducing the quasi-hyperbolic (β-Ī“) model that’s now standard in behavioral economics. His key insight: hyperbolic discounters are ā€œdynamically inconsistentā€ — they make plans their future selves will predictably abandon.

In practical terms, hyperbolic discounting means that users’ preference for ā€œnowā€ versus ā€œlaterā€ isn’t proportional to the actual delay. A reward available today feels vastly more valuable than one available tomorrow. But a reward available in 30 days feels almost identical to one available in 31 days. Early research found annual discount rates of 277% for three-month delays, dropping to 139% for one-year delays and 63% for three-year delays. We’re not just impatient — we’re disproportionately impatient about the immediate future.

For product teams, this means every ā€œbenefit laterā€ proposition we make to users — upgrade to premium, complete your profile, invest in learning the advanced features — is fighting against a cognitive bias that massively devalues anything that isn’t right now.


Breaking Down Hyperbolic Discounting

The bias operates through several mechanisms that directly affect how users interact with our products.

The Present Bias Spike: The discount curve isn’t a gentle slope — it’s a cliff followed by a plateau. The perceived difference between ā€œnowā€ and ā€œone hour from nowā€ is enormous. The perceived difference between ā€œ30 days from nowā€ and ā€œ31 days from nowā€ is negligible. This asymmetry explains why users who claim they’ll set up two-factor authentication ā€œtomorrowā€ often never do, but would readily do it if the system walked them through it right now.

Dynamic Inconsistency: Hyperbolic discounters don’t just make impulsive choices — they make choices their future selves disagree with. A user signs up for a free trial fully intending to evaluate the product thoroughly before the trial ends. But each day during the trial, the immediate cost of engaging (time, effort, learning curve) outweighs the deferred benefit (better tool, saved time). The user who committed on Day 1 and the user who procrastinates on Day 14 hold the same information — they just sit at different points on the discount curve.

Asymmetric Pain and Gain: Hyperbolic discounting interacts with loss aversion to create a particularly potent effect. We discount future gains steeply (the premium features we’ll get ā€œeventuallyā€), but we also discount future losses (the price increase ā€œnext monthā€). This means users simultaneously undervalue what they’ll gain from upgrading and underweight what they’ll lose from not acting — a double barrier to conversion.

The Commitment Gap: There’s a systematic gap between what people plan and what people do, and hyperbolic discounting is the mechanism. Studies show that people commit to saving money, exercising, and eating well when the commitment is in the future, but defect when the moment of action arrives. In product terms, users who say ā€œI’ll definitely use this featureā€ in a survey are reporting their long-horizon preference. Their actual behavior reflects the short-horizon discount rate.


Hyperbolic Discounting in Action

Amazon Prime’s Instant Gratification Engine: Amazon Prime’s genius isn’t the annual membership fee — it’s the conversion of a deferred benefit (free shipping in 5-7 days) into an immediate one (free shipping in 1-2 days, or same-day). By compressing the reward timeline, Amazon reduces the discount rate users apply to the benefit. Prime members spend an average of $1,400 per year compared to $600 for non-members — not because they need more stuff, but because the time between wanting and having has shrunk to nearly zero. Amazon understood that a dollar saved tomorrow is psychologically worth far less than a dollar saved right now, and engineered their entire logistics infrastructure around that insight.

Duolingo’s Micro-Reward Architecture: Duolingo’s five-minute lessons aren’t just about accessibility — they’re about defeating hyperbolic discounting. Learning a language is a massively deferred payoff. Left to the discount curve, users would perpetually choose Netflix over French vocabulary. Duolingo’s solution is to repackage the long-term reward (fluency) into hundreds of immediate micro-rewards: XP points, streak counts, level-ups, leaderboard positions. Each lesson delivers instant gratification that the ultimate goal cannot. The app reported over 37 million daily active users in 2024, built on a mechanism that essentially converts a hyperbolic discount problem into a present-tense reward system.

Spotify’s Freemium-to-Premium Conversion: Spotify’s free tier isn’t just a sampling mechanism — it’s a hyperbolic discounting trap in the best sense. The free experience includes intentional friction (ads, limited skips, no offline mode) that creates recurring moments of immediate pain. Each ad interruption is a present-tense cost that makes the premium benefit (no ads right now) more compelling than an abstract future benefit ever could. Spotify’s conversion rate from free to paid sits around 44% of its total user base as premium subscribers — far above typical freemium conversion benchmarks of 2-5% — in part because the product makes the cost of not upgrading felt in the present, not projected into the future.


Why This Matters

Hyperbolic discounting is arguably the single most important behavioral bias for product conversion and retention. Every time we ask a user to do something effortful now for a benefit later — complete onboarding, learn a new workflow, upgrade to paid, provide feedback — we’re asking them to act against their cognitive wiring.

This bias explains many of the most frustrating patterns in product management. Why do free trial conversion rates hover around 15-25% when users voluntarily signed up? Because the user who signed up was making a long-horizon decision (this tool will help me), but the user who needs to convert on Day 14 is making a short-horizon decision (upgrading costs $20 right now). Same person, different discount rate, different decision.

It also explains why features designed for ā€œpower usersā€ often struggle. Advanced features are investments — effort now, payoff later. The discount curve makes that trade-off feel worse than it actually is. We build for the rational user who weighs costs and benefits evenly across time. Our actual users are hyperbolic discounters who massively overweight the immediate cost of learning.


Putting It Into Practice

Compress the Reward Timeline: Don’t make users wait for the payoff. If your premium tier saves users three hours a week, show them that savings in the first session, not after a month of use. Amazon doesn’t sell ā€œannual shipping savingsā€ — it sells ā€œget this tomorrow.ā€ Translate every long-term benefit into its nearest present-tense equivalent.

Design Commitment Devices: Laibson’s research on ā€œgolden eggsā€ shows that hyperbolic discounters benefit from mechanisms that lock in their long-horizon preferences before short-horizon temptations override them. Annual billing at a discount is a commitment device. So is a setup wizard that configures preferences before the user can procrastinate. ā€œSet it up now and forget about itā€ works because it moves the effort to the present while preserving the benefit for the future.

Make the Cost of Inaction Immediate: Spotify’s ad interruptions work because they make the cost of staying on the free tier present-tense and recurring. If your product has a free tier, the pain of its limitations should be felt in the moment of use, not described on a comparison page. Show users what they’re missing right now, not what they could theoretically gain someday.

Front-Load Value in Trials: The biggest mistake in free trial design is letting users drift. The first 48 hours of a trial are the window where the gap between present-tense enthusiasm (just signed up) and deferred effort (learning the product) is smallest. Compress your product’s key ā€œaha momentā€ into the first session. Slack’s 10,000-message search limit is a constraint that only becomes painful after teams have generated enough value to feel the loss — by then, the present-tense cost of losing search outweighs the cost of paying.

Use Progress Anchors, Not Distant Goals: Instead of ā€œYou’ll be fluent in Spanish in 6 months,ā€ show ā€œYou learned 12 new words today.ā€ Each micro-accomplishment creates present-tense satisfaction that funds the next effort. Chain enough immediate rewards together, and the deferred payoff arrives without the user ever having to make the conscious decision to wait for it.


The Bigger Picture

Hyperbolic discounting reveals an uncomfortable truth about human rationality: we don’t experience time evenly. The next five minutes feel larger than the next five months. The immediate is vivid, textured, real. The future is abstract, blurry, discounted into irrelevance.

The products that succeed aren’t the ones that offer the greatest long-term value — they’re the ones that make long-term value feel immediate. Amazon didn’t become the world’s dominant retailer by having the best prices. It became dominant by making the reward of purchasing arrive as close to the moment of desire as physically possible. Duolingo didn’t succeed by teaching languages faster. It succeeded by making every five-minute session feel like a win, regardless of how far away fluency remains.

As product builders, we can fight against the discount curve or we can design with it. We can lecture users about long-term benefits they’ve already discounted to zero, or we can repackage those benefits into present-tense rewards they’ll actually act on. The future is always less persuasive than the present. The best products don’t argue with that truth — they work within it, delivering tomorrow’s value in today’s currency.

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šŸ”„ MLA #week 38

The Minimum Lovable Action (MLA) is a tiny, actionable step you can take this week to move your product team forward—no overhauls, no waiting for perfect conditions. Fix a bug, tweak a survey, or act on one piece of feedback.

Why it matters? Culture isn’t built overnight. It’s the sum of consistent, small actions. MLA creates momentum—one small win at a time—and turns those wins into lasting change. Small actions, big impact

MLA: Pricing Psychology Experiment


Why This Matters

Most product teams treat pricing as a finance exercise — set a number, move on. But pricing is one of the most psychologically loaded decisions your users make, and most PMs have never critically examined the cognitive biases already embedded in their own pricing pages. The result? Pricing that accidentally works against you, or worse, pricing that works for no one.

Research by behavioral economists Amos Tversky and Daniel Kahneman demonstrated that people don’t evaluate prices in isolation — they rely heavily on anchors, the first price they encounter, to judge everything that follows. Dan Ariely’s famous Economist subscription experiment showed that introducing a single decoy option (print-only at $125 alongside print+web at $125) shifted 84% of MIT students toward the most expensive option — compared to only 32% when the decoy was removed. That’s a 42.8% difference in hypothetical revenue from one pricing line item that nobody even chose.

This isn’t academic trivia. Every SaaS pricing page, every product tier, every upgrade prompt in your product is leveraging — or failing to leverage — these same psychological mechanisms. This MLA challenges you to look at your own pricing with fresh eyes and identify at least one effect already at play. No budget. No redesign. Just sharper awareness that directly strengthens your commercial acumen as a PM.


How to Execute

1. Choose What to Audit

Pick one pricing touchpoint in your product or business to examine:

  • Your public pricing page (tiers, plans, feature comparison)

  • An upgrade or upsell flow inside the product

  • A checkout or payment page

  • A sales proposal or quote template

  • A competitor’s pricing page (if your own isn’t accessible)

The key is choosing something real — not a hypothetical scenario, but actual pricing your users see today.

2. Learn the Core Effects (15 minutes)

Before auditing, familiarize yourself with these four pricing psychology mechanisms:

Anchoring Effect: The first price users see becomes their reference point. A $299 ā€œProā€ plan makes a $99 ā€œStandardā€ plan feel like a steal — even if $99 was always the target price. Documented by Tversky & Kahneman (1974).

Decoy Effect (Asymmetric Dominance): A third, inferior option makes one of the other two look dramatically better. The classic example: small popcorn $3, medium $6, large $7 — the medium exists to make the large irresistible. First described by Huber, Payne & Puto (1982).

Center Stage Effect: When presented side-by-side, users gravitate toward the middle option. This is why most SaaS companies highlight the middle tier as ā€œMost Popular.ā€

Charm Pricing (Left-Digit Effect): $49.99 feels meaningfully cheaper than $50.00 because our brains process the leftmost digit first. Effective for consumer products, sometimes counterproductive for premium positioning.

3. Conduct the Audit (20–30 minutes)

Walk through your chosen pricing touchpoint as a user would. For each element, ask:

ā€œWhat cognitive bias is at work here — intentionally or accidentally?ā€

Document your findings in a simple table:

ElementEffect IdentifiedIntentional?Working For/Against Us?e.g., Enterprise tier at $499/mo shown firstAnchoring — makes $149 Business tier feel reasonableLikely intentionalFor us — drives Business tier adoptione.g., all prices end in .00No charm pricing — signals premiumUnclearDepends on audience — test needede.g., only 2 tiers, no middle optionMissing decoy/center stage opportunityGapAgainst us — no natural ā€œsafe choiceā€

4. Prepare One Insight to Share

Distill your findings into one actionable insight. Use this format:

Good example: ā€œOur pricing page anchors on the Free tier — which means users perceive the $29 plan as expensive relative to $0. If we led with the $99 Enterprise tier instead, the $29 plan would feel like a bargain. This is classic anchoring, documented in Ariely’s research — the first number users see becomes their reference point.ā€

Avoid: ā€œWe should change our pricingā€ (too vague, no mechanism identified).

What makes it effective: it names the specific bias, explains the mechanism, and suggests a direction — all without requiring approval to investigate further.

5. Share with Your Team

Bring your finding to one of these settings:

Option A — Quick Share (5 min): Drop your insight + audit table in a product or marketing Slack channel. Frame it as: ā€œI did a quick pricing psychology audit — here’s one thing I noticed.ā€

Option B — Team Discussion (15 min): Present your finding in a team meeting. Walk through the pricing page together, point out the effect, and brainstorm whether it’s working for or against you.

Option C — Cross-Functional Spark: Share with a marketing, sales, or growth colleague. Pricing sits at the intersection of product, marketing, and finance — your insight might trigger a larger conversation.

6. Follow Up and Reinforce

Within 24 hours:

  • Document your audit in a shared location (Notion, Confluence, Google Docs)

  • If you found a gap or misalignment, create a lightweight hypothesis: ā€œIf we [change X], we expect [Y effect] because of [Z bias]ā€

After one week:

  • Check if your insight sparked any follow-up conversations or experiments

  • Try auditing a competitor’s pricing page using the same framework — compare their psychological strategy to yours

  • Consider proposing an A/B test for the strongest finding


Expected Benefits

Immediate Wins

  • You develop a sharper eye for how pricing influences user behavior — a skill most PMs never formalize

  • Your team gains a shared vocabulary for discussing pricing decisions (anchoring, decoy, center stage)

  • You may spot a quick win — a simple reordering or reframing that improves conversion

Relationship & Cultural Improvements

  • Sharing pricing insights cross-functionally builds credibility with marketing, sales, and finance teams

  • It signals that product thinks commercially, not just technically

  • Opens a dialogue about pricing as a product feature, not just a business decision

Long-Term Organizational Alignment

  • Pricing psychology is a core PM skill that compounds — once you see these patterns, you can’t unsee them

  • Builds the foundation for more sophisticated pricing experiments (A/B testing tiers, willingness-to-pay research)

  • Strengthens your ability to influence revenue conversations with evidence-based arguments rather than opinions


Sources

  • Tversky, A. & Kahneman, D. (1974). ā€œJudgment under Uncertainty: Heuristics and Biases.ā€ Science, 185(4157), 1124–1131.

  • Ariely, D. (2008). Predictably Irrational: The Hidden Forces That Shape Our Decisions. Harper Collins.

  • Huber, J., Payne, J.W. & Puto, C. (1982). ā€œAdding Asymmetrically Dominated Alternatives: Violations of Regularity and the Similarity Hypothesis.ā€ Journal of Consumer Research, 9(1), 90–98.

  • Simon-Kucher & Partners. ā€œPrice Anchoring: Unlock Growth with Behavioral Pricing.ā€ (2024).


Share your experience with #MLAChallenge! What pricing bias did you uncover? Did your team see their pricing page differently? Let’s build sharper commercial thinking — one small action at a time.

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šŸ“ 21 Days Is a Lie: Building a PM Operating System That Actually Sticks

The Evidence-Based PM Operating System: Why Systems Beat Willpower (And What Actually Works)

Introduction

The 21-day habit rule is a lie. The Spotify Squad Model never actually worked at Spotify. And working 70 hours per week produces the same output as working 55.

These aren’t controversial opinions—they’re research findings. Yet most Product Managers build their operating systems on exactly these myths, then blame themselves when the systems collapse after three weeks.

I spent weeks synthesizing research across cognitive science, behavioral economics, organizational psychology, and PM practitioner frameworks to answer a question that’s been nagging me: What actually distinguishes high-performing PM operating systems from productivity theater?

The answer surprised me. The best PM operating systems don’t require more discipline. They require less—because they externalize discipline into environmental design, pre-commitment devices, and structural defaults. They assume humans are predictably irrational and build guardrails accordingly.

Here’s what you’ll walk away with:

Understanding: Why willpower-based approaches fail and what the research says actually works—across five disciplinary lenses that converge on the same insights.

Three Implementation Tools:

  • Weekly Operating System Template with evidence-based time blocking

  • PM Operating System Diagnostic assessing your current state across 6 dimensions

  • 66-Day Habit Installation Protocol based on actual habit formation research

Let’s start by killing the myths.


The Myth-Busting Foundation: Why Everything You Know About Habits Is Wrong

The 21-Day Lie

The ā€œ21-day habitā€ myth traces back to a 1960 book by plastic surgeon Maxwell Maltz. In Psycho-Cybernetics, he observed that patients took ā€œa minimum of about 21 daysā€ to adjust emotionally to their new appearance after surgery. Note the word ā€œminimumā€ā€”

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