The Problem with the Problem-Solving Narrative

Grand Promises Disappoint. Honest Ones Deliver.

Consider the humble pair of scissors. You need to cut something—paper, fabric, hair—and scissors deliver exactly what they promise. Clean cuts, every time. When the hair grows back, you reach for the scissors again. No existential crisis. No buyer's remorse. No wondering if you should have invested in a "follicle management solution" instead.

Scissors know their place in the world.

Now consider the last B2B software platform your organization adopted. The one that promised to "solve" your communication problems, or "eliminate" workflow inefficiencies, or "transform" how your team collaborates. How's that working out? If you're like most business leaders, you're probably experiencing some form of solution mirage: that shimmering promise of problem elimination that keeps receding the closer you get to it.

There is a reason this happens. Most so-called business solutions don't actually solve problems. They create new systems that swap familiar frustrations for uncharted ones. And buyers keep falling for it because the preview is always better than the movie.

The Psychology of Solution Shopping

Scroll through any B2B software website and count how many times you see the word solution. Salesforce promises to “solve” customer relationship management. Slack was built to “solve” communication fragmentation. ServiceNow claims to “solve” IT inefficiencies. All great companies, but even their best products can’t clean up the messy realities of work.

Behavioral economics teaches us that when we frame a purchase as a problem-solver, we create expectation inflation. We conjure the image of a future state where the fundamental challenge no longer exists. In the tech world, this often starts even earlier with what sales trainers call “positioning the problem.” The goal isn’t just to solve a need — it’s to define the need in a way that only your product can address. That might mean framing an inconvenience as a crisis or inventing a new problem to make the solution look indispensable.

We can all agree that solutions can deliver value, though their record is uneven. They promise resolution and sometimes achieve it — but the victory is short-lived. Complex business problems rarely disappear; they splinter, shift, or multiply somewhere else. Still, sellers use solution language to signal higher value and justify higher prices or longer contracts.

Take Slack, the poster child for solution-speak. It promised to solve communication fragmentation by bringing all your conversations into one place. What it actually delivered was a tool that made certain types of workplace communication faster and more organized. The fragmentation didn't disappear; it just migrated from email, phone calls, and hallway conversations to channels, direct messages, and the dubiously urgent pings that slip past your carefully curated notification settings.

The result? Now you get to ignore people in twice as many places.

Ironically, if Slack had positioned itself as a workflow helper — Get quick answers from your team without email chains — users might have been thrilled with the results. Instead, many teams wax nostalgic for the good old days when people didn't expect immediate responses to every fleeting thought.

We're drawn to "Solve My Problem" messaging because it appeals to our desire for decisive action and permanent results. It sounds strategic. Game changing. Stories about making the day go smoother sound mundane by comparison.

The scissors in your desk drawer represent a kind of philosophy we’ve drifted away from. True problem-solving tools deliver exactly what they promise. No paradigm shifts, they just cut things.

Honesty and Modesty FTW

Fear-driven purchasing pushes us to embrace grander promises. Nobody wants to be left behind using mere tools while others deploy so-called next-gen solutions. Timing pressure makes us chase rapid progress over incremental gains. And committing to solutions signals ambition and root-cause resolution, even when a well-placed, practical fix would suffice.

It’s the charm of the Swiss Army knife–even if the can opener never sees daylight.

Once we've invested significantly in a solution, we become committed to justifying that investment — whether we’re satisfied or not. The sunk cost fallacy kicks in, and suddenly it’s no longer about the product we bought. Now we have to defend the story we told ourselves. 

So why not tell a different story? A more relatable one.

Avis showed us how in 1962. As the number two rental car company behind Hertz, they didn’t pretend to be the biggest or the flashiest. Instead, they launched one of the first challenger brand campaigns with a promise that was impossible to argue with: “We’re number two. We try harder.” 

Renting cars is basically a commodity business. But this modest, authentic campaign struck a nerve and built brand loyalty. It told the story of an underdog with grit and determination. Within a year, Avis went from losing $3.2 million to earning $1.2 million (a nearly $50 million swing in 2025 dollars).

Many of the challenges we face aren’t problems that can be solved; they’re conditions to be managed. Software will crash. Shipments will stall. Someone will hit reply all.

When tools come with realistic expectations, they’re easy to adopt and use. They don’t promise to change the nature of work; they just help you do the work better. Cultivating that mindset—and crafting messages that reflect it—might be the most useful solution of all.