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How long has it been since you picked up your phone and, without intending to, saw the time staring back at you? How often do alarms and notifications tell you it’s time to join a meeting, leave for an appointment, or even take the chicken out of the oven? Whether we notice it or not, we are surrounded by constant reminders of time on our phones, laptops, tablets, and even our watches.
This hasn’t always been the case. A century ago, very few people knew the exact time at any given moment. Personal watches were rare, and most relied on public signals, such as the church bell, the town clock, or even the position of the sun, to orient their day. Time was something you experienced more loosely, often anchored in events rather than precise minutes.
My research on scheduling styles (Avnet & Sellier, 2011; Sellier & Avnet, 2014) identifies two broad ways people relate to time. Some individuals rely on external cues, clocks, alarms, and schedules to guide when they start, stop, and transition between tasks. I refer to them as clock-timers. Others rely more on an internal sense of completion. They begin a task when it feels appropriate and move on when it feels 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 “in the moment.” Because they are not constantly monitoring the clock, they can immerse themselves more fully in what they are doing. Their attention is less fragmented, and their engagement tends to be deeper. In contrast, clock-timers often divide their attention. Even while working on a task, part of their day is allocated to tracking time, glancing at a device, anticipating the next transition, or mentally calculating how much time remains.
Another important difference relates to the sense of control. When people defer to the clock to dictate when things begin and end, they may feel that control lies outside of themselves. The clock becomes the authority that structures their day. In contrast, event-timers often experience a stronger sense of personal agency. They feel that they are the ones determining when something is complete and when it is time to move on.
Importantly, my research does not suggest that one approach is inherently better than the other. People tend to lean naturally toward one style, influenced by personality, culture, and the norms of their environment. A highly structured organization may encourage clock-timing, while more flexible or creative settings may support event-timing.
However, there is an important nuance: People can be temporarily shifted from one mode to the other.
In laboratory settings (Avnet & Sellier, 2011; Sellier & Avnet, 2014), we can prime individuals to adopt a more clock-oriented mindset simply by surrounding them with time cues, visible clocks, countdown timers, or frequent reminders. The effect is subtle but reliable. People become more attentive to time, more likely to monitor it, and more inclined to let it dictate their behavior. Traditionally, these effects were short-lived.
But in today’s world, the “lab” never turns off.
Our digital environments constantly expose us to time. Every time we check a message, open an app, or glance at a screen, the time is prominently displayed. Notifications punctuate our day with reminders of what comes next. In effect, we are being continuously primed into a clock-timer mindset.
For those who are naturally inclined toward clock-timing, this may feel perfectly aligned, efficient, organized, and reassuring. But for those who are naturally event-timers, this constant exposure can create a subtle but persistent sense of discomfort.
In other work, I examine the concept of fit (Avnet & Higgins, 2006), the feeling that the way we are operating aligns with our natural tendencies. When there is fit, people tend to feel that things are “right.” They experience greater ease, confidence, and well-being. When there is non-fit, even if they cannot articulate why, something feels off. There is a quiet sense of unease, as though the world is pushing them into a mode that does not match how they naturally function.
From this perspective, the proliferation of digital time cues may be doing more than just keeping us punctual. It may be nudging many of us, especially natural event-timers, into a way of operating that feels fundamentally misaligned.
So what can we do?
The first step is awareness. Digital devices are not just tools for communication and productivity; they are also powerful psychological cues. They shape how we experience time, often in ways we do not consciously register. Recognizing this influence allows us to better understand why we may feel rushed, fragmented, or out of sync with ourselves.
The second step is to reclaim some degree of time agency. This does not necessarily mean abandoning schedules or rejecting technology altogether. Rather, it involves creating intentional spaces where the clock recedes into the background. This might mean working on a task without visible time cues, turning off non-essential notifications, or allowing certain activities to unfold until they feel complete rather than until a timer dictates they should end.
This is not about labeling digital devices as “bad.” They bring undeniable benefits, coordination, efficiency, and connection. But they also subtly reshape our relationship with time, often pulling us toward a more externally controlled experience.
Reclaiming balance means allowing both modes to coexist. There are moments when clock-time is essential, such as when catching a train, attending a meeting, or coordinating with others. But there should also be moments when we can return to event-time, when we can listen to our internal sense of rhythm, immerse ourselves fully, and decide for ourselves when something is done.
In the end, the question is not whether we are becoming “clock people.” In many ways, we already are. The more important question is whether we still have the flexibility to step out of that mode when it no longer serves us.
