As a coach, I spend a lot of time with people who are trying hard. I mean “trying hard” in the best way. They are genuinely ambitious, thoughtful, conscientious people. They’re the kind of people who care deeply about doing good work, being good partners, raising good humans, maintaining their health, and still finding time to help in their community.
They’re trying to lead teams, hit goals, stay relevant, stay healthy, stay connected, and remain sane. On a good day, they’re striving for greatness. On most days, they’re just trying to keep up.
I’ve noticed lately that many of these conversations eventually drift toward technology. None of them are particularly obsessed with technology. It’s usually quite the opposite. They’re just looking to it for relief. Somehow a better app, smarter gadget, new platform or AI assistant will finally make everything feel a little easier. ChatGPT to the rescue, maybe?
And, that instinct makes perfect sense. Humans have always built tools to extend our capabilities. From the wheel, to calculators to search engines, we find innovative ways to defy our current limits. The promise is simple. Do more with less. But the reality is often more complicated.
The tool saves time, but requires maintenance. The platform creates efficiency, but demands attention. The software automates one task while generating three new ones. Eventually, if we’re not careful, we cross an invisible line. The very thing designed to help us perform better starts interfering with our ability to perform. I’ve started calling that moment the Tripping Point™.
The tripping point is the moment a tool stops reducing cognitive load and starts increasing it. It’s the moment your nervous system has one browser tab too many open. The exact minute a nudge doesn’t feel helpful, it feels hostile. It’s the moment your executive functioning quietly mutters, “I quit.”
I used to think that I was the only one facing this tripping point issue. Maybe I am an old soul or someone who is not sophisticated enough to handle modern day. Maybe everyone else was thriving in a high-def digital world. Meanwhile I can’t remember which password belongs to which portal.
But over the past year, while coaching leaders, consulting with organizations, teaching students, and talking with clients, I’ve realized something important. Almost everyone has a tripping point. The details vary, but the feelings are remarkably similar.
Hearing others’ stories, as they searched for ease only to find discomfort, reminds me of when I first started leading health coaching teams. Back then (and we’re talking early 2000s here), my team had limited time and scarce resources. Not a lot of companies were investing big bucks in wellness. Despite those limitations, my little team still had audacious goals. We were hell-bent on transforming health.
Much like my clients today, I was in constant pursuit of tools that would help us work at the top of our licenses. As coaches, we didn’t want to spend our days documenting, chasing paperwork, or importing data. We wanted to spend our time doing the things we were actually trained to do — helping people improve their health. So, like any curious human, I went after the latest technology. We built clever workarounds for scheduling. We integrated devices for real-time tracking. We cobbled together platforms, launched new software, and partnered with high-tech vendors. Every innovation promised to make work easier, coaches more effective, and people healthier.
Every innovation arrived carrying hope. Yet somehow none of them delivered fully. Things always felt clunky. The workflows became complicated. And despite all the tools, we were still just barely keeping up.
Recently, I had the opportunity to test what someone described as a next generation coaching platform. I’ve been away from health care systems and coaching platforms for a while, and I thought maybe this time would be different. After all, we’re now in the new era of AI.
When I first started using it, it felt like I had found the platform I’ve been dreaming about for twenty years. It was completely data-driven and AI-optimized. It intelligently matched clients and coaches. It scheduled appointments and proactively resolved conflicts. It sent reminders. It tracked data, spotted trends, suggested next steps, and summarized notes. It was intuitive, efficient, and surprisingly easy to use.
I felt oddly validated. This is what we have been trying to build for decades! This is what we’ve been jerry-rigging together with spreadsheets, sticky notes, and random SharePoint sites.
Finally! This will allow coaches to focus on what matters most— coaching. Clients will thrive!
Then I got to use the platform with a real coaching client. Can you hear my enthusiasm and excitement? A human entered my new digital world and was ready to play. This particular client arrived with a challenge that I hear often. She was feeling overwhelmed. Like others, she was working incredibly hard but wasn’t making meaningful progress. She described moving through her days feeling buried beneath information and demands. Too many screens and things were competing for her attention. She was trying to work faster, but was becoming less effective. She described being less focused, decisive, connected and even confident. The demands kept growing and the pressure was mounting.
This client described spending her entire day moving from screen to screen. Notifications arrived constantly through five different channels. She sourced endless ideas through AI chat tools, yet struggled to execute on a single one. Pings reminded her that she was falling behind.
She described it as digital overload. I call it her “tripping point.”
She had all these incredible tools designed to help her think better. Yet somehow she felt less capable of thinking clearly. I leaned into the conversation. After all, this wasn’t the first time I’d heard these themes. Truthfully, I’d experienced much of it myself.
Together, we explored what was happening. I asked her, “On the days that don’t feel overwhelming, what’s different?”
And then, “When you encounter digital overload, what actually helps?”
Eventually she landed on something that surprised both of us— her notebook. Not a pretty journal or a digital tablet; rather, a regular old notebook with scribbled ink.
Her face lit up as she started talking about how much she used a notebook in the past. She filled pages. She would jot down ideas, capture the most important facts, and cross items of a list. Wow that felt rewarding to her. She would even doodle and diagram things. She reminisced about senior leaders stopping her in the hallway and asking detailed questions. Somehow she always knew the exact answer. She didn’t have a superior memory, but she remembered where on the page she had written it. If something was important enough to make it into her notebook, it became important enough to remember.
The act of writing mattered to her. The notebook wasn’t simply storing information. It was helping her think, prioritize, plan, focus and make decisions.
What fascinated me wasn’t the notebook itself. It was what the notebook represented her attention and intentionality. A slower interaction with information forced her to decide what mattered. The notebook didn’t just store information, it filtered it. The process worked for her instead of demanding more from her. It made her feel confident.
By the end of our call, she had a plan. She was going to return to using her notebook throughout her day. She knew where she would keep it, what she would capture, when she would consult it. During our session she even made her first note. At the top of the page she wrote: “quiet technology distractions and focus here.”
She was excited. Even more importantly she felt motivated to tackle work the next day.
And then it happened. Just as we landed on her action plan and she closed her notebook with a look of satisfaction, we both heard a familiar ding. That amazing AI-powered coaching platform reminded us that our session was almost over. It also instructed us to update the digital goal card so the platform could record and track her progress. Ding—“Enter your goal and action plan here.”
I love irony. But this was almost too much. We had just spent forty-five minutes discussing how excessive digital management was contributing to her overwhelm. We had discussed how it was creating more work rather than less and robbing her of focus. She had already done the hard work, found clarity and developed a foolproof plan. And now technology was asking her to complete one more task. Feed the machine and help the algorithm learn what she already knew.
That was my new “tripping point.” The exact moment that made me ask — who is the master?
It’s kind of like dogs… We think we command dogs to sit, stay, and fetch our slippers. From that perspective, it seems pretty obvious who’s in charge. Then I look outside on a rainy Tuesday morning and see my neighbor standing with a little green poop bag while his dog drags him down the sidewalk. And, I think, I hate to break it to you, buddy, but I’m not sure you’re the one running this relationship.
That phrase keeps popping into my head when I think about this era of AI and mass digital technology. Who is the master? Who is serving whom?
Before anyone accuses me of being anti-technology, let me be clear. I’m not. I’ve spent most of my career selectively adopting technology. I never became an Excel wizard because that wasn’t where I wanted to invest my time. PowerPoint was different. I learned every trick because it helped me tell stories and communicate ideas.
Technology has always been at its best when it amplifies something I care about. The same is true today. In fact, when I first tested this new AI coaching platform, I fully understood the arrangement. I was gaining efficiency while simultaneously training the machine. The platform was learning from me. Part of me even joked that someday it will likely replace me. After this experience, though, I feel surprisingly confident that I’ll have job security for a little while longer.
The platform knew I forgot to update the goal card. What it wasn’t smart enough to know was that the goal card itself had become part of the problem. The human knew that and understood the irony. The human recognized what was helpful and what was foolish.
The human understood that the notebook was the intervention needed. At least for now, I think humans still have a slight edge.
I’m not particularly interested in predicting the global “tripping point” for AI. The smartest people in the world can’t seem to agree on that question. I’m far more interested in our personal tripping points.
Where is the moment when your tools start demanding more than they give you? What are your warning signs?
How do you know when your attention is becoming fragmented?
When does your search for optimization become overload?
When does productivity become performance theater?
When does the system stop serving you and you start training it?
Those are questions we can actually work to answer, and conversations worth having.
I don’t think technology is the problem or that AI is going away, but I do think awareness and preparation are important. It’s helpful to know where your tripping point is, and have a plan so you don’t fall.
If you’ve already hit your tripping point and landed flat on your face, I’d genuinely love to hear that story. I’ve spent enough time tripping over curbs, roots, and occasionally perfectly visible sidewalks to offer some empathy.
If you’re starting to suspect you’re getting close to your tripping point, let’s talk about that too. Sometimes the answer isn’t abandoning technology, it’s becoming more selective or creating better boundaries.
And if none of this resonates with you because you’re happily feeding the machine, generating data, leveraging every new tool, and loving every second of it, I’d like to hear that story too. Seriously, you may possess a talent I don’t. And when AI finally replaces me, perhaps you can help train the next generation. I hope you caught the sarcasm.
Keep striving and be excited for new technology. The challenge is rarely the technology itself. But remember, our attention remains one of the most valuable resources we possess. It fuels learning, creativity, judgment, relationships, and meaningful work. Once scattered, it becomes remarkably difficult to reclaim. So the next time a notification pops up asking you to do one more thing, it may be worth asking “have I reached my tripping point?” And, more importantly, “who is the master?”
Carolyn Kontos, MS, ACC, Leadership and Wellness Coach, offers Wellness & Nutrition Coaching at the JCC through her Eat Well Programs. For more information, contact Carolyn at [email protected]
