It's well known that we live in an "attention economy." People -- television audiences, Web surfers, radio listeners -- pay for "free" content not with money but with their attention. Advertisers buy people's attention with that "free" content. And, of course, the value of people's attention varies according to who they are (generally, an indication of how much they're likely to spend, because in the end, much of this comes down to money).
Ask any advertiser about CPM (cost per thousand chances to reach a consumer), and you'll learn it involves who is being reached and how much attention they're likely to pay to an ad. But there's more to it than that. Not all of it comes down to money. There are other complex rules of attention economics, based on humans' innate desire for attention ... and power. The rules governing attention economics often make us uncomfortable, because we're not used to describing personal relationships and motivations by the cold terms of economics. It is impolite to "value" people; and, of course, the measures are fuzzy.
But that doesn't mean it's not worth trying. The theory of attention economics explains many interesting everyday phenomena, from why salespeople take clients out to lunch to why alumni clubs are so popular. And understanding it can be useful, though in the end the most valuable attention is the kind that is uncalculated, such as the true love we seek even as we calculate the cost of a date or the price of a club membership to "meet exciting new people."
To understand attention economics, first consider the basic unit. The only metric for attention that's universal is time, so let's take an hour of time as the basic unit. Whose time it is matters. Bill Gates' or Henry Kissinger's time is worth, say, 10,000 units. (These numbers are sheer imagination; no harm or serious claims intended.) Kissinger will come to speak to 10,000 ordinary citizens for an hour (for a fee). He will also speak with, say, five heads of state for an hour (for free).
Attention from people who get a lot of attention is more valuable than that of people who get less attention. Does that mean that attention from each of those five heads of state is worth 2,000 times more than attention from each member of Kissinger's mass audience? Not precisely, but the overall relationship is true even though the precise numbers vary. A lot depends on the context: Each of those heads of state is worth more in his or her own country. And their attention is worth a lot more on the job than, say, during a vacation on a ranch (where local farmhands may get attention they would never receive in Washington).
Indeed, what DOES happen when our head of state travels? In his own country, he captures the attention of most of the nation. But when he ventures abroad, where his presence is much less valued, he must take a retinue of people with him. These "handlers" make sure attention is paid to his needs. They also help the HOS allocate his own attention in unfamiliar territory. The HOS has limited attention but lots of people demanding it: the ministers he meets, the head of the local factory owned by a business headquartered in the HOS's home country, and the schoolchild displaying his language skills.
The handlers can also, to some extent, pay proxy attention FOR the HOS, assuring people that their messages will get through. That's a special function of the HOS' spouse on those very formal occasions that masquerade as social events. If you want the HOS's "personal attention," what better proxy than his most intimate partner? That's what social climbers want. But if what you want is a business deal, perhaps a less-known (and less attention-getting) adviser is a better bet.
That's how attention economics works for a head of state (or corporate chief). But how about for ordinary people? How do they acquire attention-getting status? As in other areas, life is unfair. People are born into circumstances -- money, family -- that may guarantee them a certain level of attention. Or they may have good genes -- for intelligence, charm or simply a commanding presence. And, of course, especially if you are female, you can raise your attention value simply by looking good. Partly, people will like to look at you; partly, people assume that other people like to look at you, and that raises the value of your attention.
One of the best ways to raise the value of your own attention is to give it freely in exchange for the attention of others. The more attention you get (by giving) over time, the greater the value of the attention you give will be.
Of course, you can't simply CLAIM someone's attention, though that is often what salespeople do, merely for the price of a free lunch. And it works amazingly well. Another way to raise the value of your attention and to get attention from others indicates why business travel will never entirely give way to video conferencing: You can make your attention worth more by demonstrating how much it cost you -- not just in money but in effort. For example, if you talk to a customer by video conference, she could well be filing her nails or answering e-mail out of camera range; you may not get her full attention. But if she knows that you got out of bed at 6 a.m., drove to the airport, stood on three lines, ate a sticky bun and drank bad coffee in a middle seat, then stood on another line to get a rental car to drive to her office, all just to take her to lunch ... If she is human, she will pay attention to you (and it's harder to get away with answering e-mail over a lunch table).
Finally, you can use the subtler forms of networking to raise the value of your attention. This means finding a context in which your attention currency is worth more. Typically, this works when you and the other party share something: a school, a club, an acquaintance.
Be aware, however, that it's easy to misuse the economics of attention. Simply knowing Juan's friend Alice will help you to get to Juan. But some people don't quite get the point, which leads to one of my favorite letters: "Dear Ester (sic): My aunt saw you on television and said I should write to you ..." I don't know this person, and I certainly don't know his aunt, so I'm not likely to pay attention to his letter. It's a typical example of someone getting attention economics wrong, just as people occasionally get currency exchange or time zones mixed up.
So far, attention economics is something many of us practice instinctively -- though it is generally considered impolite to look at your watch while talking to someone or to rank your friends by when you'll take their calls. However, as technology develops, and you can reach anyone at anytime, we'll all need to get more explicit in giving instructions to our devices about whose messages to let through and whose to ignore. For now, though, here's the best advice I can offer: Please stop reading and go pay attention to someone you love!