How to Make Something People Give a Shit About
I.
Most things fail because nobody cares. Look around. The world drowns in mediocrity, in projects launched with hope and abandoned in silence. Your inbox probably contains seventeen newsletters you never read. Your phone hosts thirty-two apps you never open. Your Kindle holds twenty-four unfinished books about productivity.
But sometimes — rarely, beautifully — something breaks through. People care. They share. They evangelize. They build communities. They fork over cash. They tattoo logos on their bodies (okay, mainly just Apple fans do this, but you get the point).
What’s the difference?
II.
Let’s start with what doesn’t work: copying success. Everyone trying to make the next Facebook creates a wasteland of social networks nobody wants. Everyone trying to write the next Harry Potter floods Amazon with teenage wizards nobody reads. Everyone trying to build the next Bitcoin launches tokens nobody trades.
Success leaves breadcrumbs, but they’re written in disappearing ink. Pixar didn’t win by making better cartoons — they won by telling better stories. Spotify didn’t win by building a bigger music library — they won by making discovery effortless. Google Maps didn’t win by digitizing paper maps — they won by knowing where traffic jams are forming right now.
The victors don’t win by following the path. They win by realizing the path itself is wrong.
III.
Here’s the core principle: people give a shit about things that meaningfully change their lives. Not things that could change their lives. Not things that should change their lives. Things that do change their lives.
Consider Spotify. Music streaming existed before Spotify. But Spotify made it work. They solved the problems: laggy playback, missing songs, complex interfaces, and device switching. They didn’t solve theoretical issues or add features nobody asked for. They just made music streaming work.
The same principle applies everywhere. Slack didn’t invent office chat — it just made it not suck. Uber didn’t invent hiring drivers — it just made it not painful. Tesla didn’t invent electric cars; it made them feel less embarrassing. Something Elon Musk might do well to remember.
IV.
But solving real problems isn’t enough. You also need to solve them in a way that resonates emotionally.
Think about Airbnb. The functional problem they solved was that “hotels are expensive and sterile.” The emotional problem they solved was “travel should feel authentic and personal.” Their early tagline wasn’t “cheaper than hotels” — it was “belong anywhere.”
Take Peloton. For all their current problems (and lord knows, they have enough of them, they started with a functional problem: “Gyms are inconvenient.” The emotional problem: “Working out alone is boring and unmotivating.” Their solution wasn’t just an overpriced, exclusive bike with a screen — it was belonging to a community, competing with others, and being part of something bigger.
You can argue (quite easily) that both of these products have lost their shine, and are therefore poor examples. I’d argue back that there’s a reason they lost their shine, and I know what it is.
V.
The best solutions often look obvious in retrospect. This raises a puzzling question: why didn’t someone do it sooner?
Usually, because the obvious solution was previously impossible, illegal, or insane:
- Impossible: Smartphones before miniature touchscreens existed
- Illegal: Uber before regulatory frameworks could be challenged
- Insane: Netflix mailing DVDs when Blockbuster ruled the world
The sweet spot? When something just became possible, legal, or sane enough to try. That’s why timing matters more than ideas. Being too early is the same as being wrong.
VI.
But even perfect timing won’t save you if you can’t communicate why anyone should care. And this is where most people spectacularly fail.
They focus on features instead of outcomes. On specifications instead of stories. On what instead of why.
Nobody cared about “1000 songs in your pocket” because it was 1000 songs. They cared because it meant never having to choose which CDs to bring — never having to swap discs mid-workout or settle for radio.
The iPod didn’t sell storage space. It sold freedom.
VII.
Making something people care about often means making something people already care about, just better.
Innovation doesn’t mean inventing new needs. It means serving existing needs more effectively. PayPal didn’t create the need to send money — they just made it easier than writing checks. Google didn’t create the need to find information — they just made it faster than browsing directories.
The truly new stuff? It usually fails. People don’t wake up wanting new problems to solve. They wake up wanting their existing problems solved better.
VIII.
But “better” is tricky. Better for who? Better how? Better when?
The most successful products are often worse in most ways but radically better in one way that matters:
- Early digital cameras: Worse quality, but instant feedback
- Early personal computers: Less powerful but personally controlled
- Early mobile phones: Worse sound, but portable
Find the dimension that matters most and win decisively there. Everything else can be “good enough.”
IX.
Sometimes, making something people care about means removing things people hate.
Simplicity isn’t about having fewer features. It’s about having fewer obstacles. Fewer decisions. Fewer ways to fail.
Consider Amazon’s 1-Click ordering. The innovation wasn’t adding anything but removing everything that stood between wanting and having. Every form field removed, every confirmation eliminated, every friction point smoothed away.
X.
Finally, there’s the hardest truth: you have to give a shit yourself.
Not in a shallow “I’m passionate about disrupting the [insert industry] space” way. But in a deep, personal, slightly unreasonable way. The kind of caring that makes you spend years solving a problem most people don’t even notice. The kind that makes you keep going when everyone says you’re wrong.
Because here’s the thing about making something people give a shit about: it usually starts with one person giving a shit. One person caring enough to solve a problem properly. One person refusing to accept that “that’s just how things are.”
One person caring so much it becomes contagious.
XI.
So here’s the formula, if you can call it that:
- Find a real problem (not a hypothetical one)
- Make the solution emotionally resonant (not just functional)
- Time it right (not too early, not too late)
- Communicate the why (not just the what)
- Focus on existing needs (not invented ones)
- Win decisively on what matters most (not marginally on everything)
- Remove obstacles (not just add features)
- Care unreasonably (not strategically)
Ideally, you’ll hit 6/8 of these. More is overkill. Less is self-sabotage.
Perhaps the most important point is this: making something people give a shit about doesn’t mean making something perfect. It means creating something meaningfully better in a way that touches people’s lives.
In the end, people don’t care about products, features, or specifications. They give a shit about their lives being better. Everything else is just details.
An addendum: Almost every company and product mentioned in this article has lost its way. Because they lost sight of the things that made them great. Spotify drowns in podcasts nobody asked for.
Airbnb suffocates under cleaning fees and corporate rentals. Tesla chases Twitter-fueled hype cycles (and drowns in Nazi-adjacent fuckery) instead of building better cars. Peloton struggles to remember it sold belonging, not just bikes.
They optimize for shareholders instead of users, for quarterly growth instead of customer problems, for engagement metrics instead of human needs.
Each has become a case study in forgetting the fundamental truth that made them matter. And that's the final lesson: creating something people give a shit about isn't enough – you have to remember why they gave a shit in the first place.
