The Problem with Hard Metrics
The problem with hard metrics is that they’re just that: hard, rigid, inflexible, granitic. They don’t bend to accommodate different viewpoints or unique realities. They’re binary; you either hit the target or you didn’t. Traffic counts, click-through rates, costs per acquisition, even presidential approval ratings—you’re defined by your proximity to or divergence from one ultimate number, one hard-coded version of reality.
Last week, I was sick with a bout of influenza. Quite sick actually. Sick to the point where I have new found respect—if not admiration, naturally—for the virus. I can see now how our entire pharmacopeia is so short-sighted in tossing around the term “flu-like symptoms” with all the gravity of a paper cut. This is a disease that has killed millions in freak pandemics and still carries a mortal risk for certain segments of the population.
Mid-week, I went to a public drop-in clinic here in Montreal. I complained about the following symptoms: fever, aches, pains, loss of appetite, dry cough. I had been bed-ridden for three days by that point. I was exhausted, stressed out, and pissed off. A triage nurse took my vitals and I waited in the queue for the doctor on duty. I saw the doctor, who seemed mildly bored and bemused as I adumbrated my half-week of misery. She looked up at me from behind her glasses, glasses which were pinching her nose and forming a dark bridge right below her eye line, and she told me that I didn’t have a fever, that in fact I was only 99.5 Fahrenheit. So, what’s a fever? (I asked her). 101.3 Fahrenheit for at least three days. (She shot back at me, seemingly pulling this number from out of her ass). So, why does every website I consult talk about normal body temperature being in the range of 98.6 Fahrenheit? (I retorted). I don’t know. You have a virus, sir, there is nothing that I can do for you.
This is what measurement means now. You can silence anybody with a number; if you throw numbers at problems, they go away. We feel that when we affix hard numbers to things, an implicit and reassuring sense of stability attaches itself to the problem. What exactly does a trillion dollar economic stimulus mean? Who knows, but it’s a hard number, so we’re warmed, knowing that hard metrics will go do battle for us against the darkness.
That’s fine as long as it’s your number that keeps coming up. But when you’re the exception, the outlier, you soon realize that your unique brand of suffering, your case, or your grievance falls down flat and silent at the margins.
