Last night, I attended a career seminar at the university where I work. I was interested in gleaning tips to share with my students, and I’m considering the next step in my own career as well. I heard many good ideas at the seminar, but one in particular stuck out to me.

A student in the audience asked the panel of speakers how to narrow down his career options. This student had been researching future careers the way most of us research most things today: the internet. He felt overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information he’d found. How could he learn more about careers that might suit him? How could he narrow down his options?

Today’s post is short and sweet, and it’s based on a fascinating concept called the peak–end rule.

The peak–end rule is a mental heuristic: a shortcut our brains take. It states that people tend to remember two highlights of any experience: the most intense part (the peak) and the end.¹ This has implications for human interactions, of course.

When you’ve got serious business to discuss, get down to business first and chat about personal matters second. The other party will tend to remember the pleasant finish to the conversation. And if possible, end conversations on a positive note (especially difficult conversations).²

A few weeks ago, I bought a box of Pop-Tarts on a whim.

This was a poor decision.

Reader, you know I don’t do well with impulse control and refined carbohydrates. The Pop-Tarts were gone before . . . well, let’s just say they didn’t stick around long enough to get to know the family.

As a rule, I don’t buy sugary treats at the grocery store because I just can’t handle them. I’ve followed this rule for years. So why did I break it?

When are you at your mental best?

Most of us are at our sharpest around 10 AM, yet we often spend our super-productive morning hours on email, a relatively low-value activity.

When I arrive at the office, my morning seems to go one of two ways hinging on how I approach work email.

Scenario 1: “Quick email check” devours morning

I roll in around 8:15 AM and get settled. I have big plans to spend the morning on an important project (I usually see students in the afternoon), but I open my laptop and quickly check my work email.

Spring break is nigh, and I just emailed my students some advice that applies to all of us.

All college students enter the gates of spring break with high hopes. They have a few hours of homework to do (hopefully not much more than that), but they have plenty of time to do it and thus no specific plan for when they’ll do it.

As the week creeps by, they often find themselves pushing the work back—I’ll do it tomorrow—and each day of spring break is less enjoyable than the last. The worst-case scenario is a long Sunday drive back to campus under a cloud of despair, hounded by the guilt that comes from having wasted something precious.