When my wife and I were two thirds of a young three person unit, we drove ninety minutes in response to a too-good-to-be true ad for a low miles used minivan at an amazing price. The skeptic in me considered it could be a phony lure, so I called the dealership. “It’s here!” I was told.

The catch is something we almost always attribute to a great deal that turns out to be not so great. In the case of the low miles minivan, the catch was the van’s lack of existence. Or, if I were to take the salesperson at his word, it was on an extended test drive. Thankfully, they had several other “great deals” we could look at while we waited for the mythical minivan. Oh! But wouldn’t you know it? The test driver stopped at a convenience store and locked the keys in the car! Can you believe it?!

No, mister salesman. I cannot believe it.

Lately, I’ve become aware of a more insidious catch, something we fail to identify hundreds of times a day. Whenever I pick up my phone, I fall victim. It doesn’t necessarily cost me money (though it often does) but it always costs me attention. And attention, it seems to me, is the most valuable commodity we have as humans. Without it, we almost cease to be human. We become mindless consumers, incapable of tempering our own appetites.

I heard this quote from famous social media alarmist, Tristan Harris: “Show me the incentives, and I’ll tell you what’s going to happen.”

I try to think of this before I open a social media app. What are the incentives? It makes me think—Am I about to have a used minivan moment?

These days, one could only hope to waste less than 90 minutes of attention on that digital junk food buffet.