The ideas that attention spans are shorter and audiences operate in discrete silos are received wisdom. As a result, companies produce and repurpose more content than they previously did. All this happens under the presumption that consumer habits are changing and firms need to keep up.

Last week, Instagram rolled out polls. The move, mimicking functionality from Twitter, enables users to run polls in their Instagram Stories. It’s an incremental and unsurprising move. And yet, when you note the vast array of other changes (like trialling swipe up links for some accounts) that are only available for those publishing Stories, it’s obvious that it’s all designed to encourage more, and more frequent, posting.

Meanwhile, posts published on Google’s My Business, which helps firms take control of how they appear in search, only appear in search results for a week after they are published. After that, they expire. Again, this is a move to encourage more frequent publishing.

Over on Facebook, for those seeking to maximise their organic reach the consensus seems to be the consistency with which you post (alongside how well received your posts are) has a dramatic impact on reach.

So, alongside the received wisdom that consumers want targeted, bite-sized content, we have social networks increasingly shrinking the lifespan of content.

Consumers and platforms are turning up the speed of the treadmill. Companies are the ones doing the running, but they’re not in control.

In 1849 the Treaty of Lahore was signed. A 10 year old boy, who also happened to be the Maharaja of Punjab, lost his kingdom to the British government and a very special diamond to Queen Victoria.

The then Governor General of India, Earl Dalhousie, played a central role in obtaining the diamond. Once the treaty had been signed, he wrote to a friend declaring, “I had now caught my hare.”

Dalhousie believed, having captured one of the East’s most venerated gems, he was going to be a hero of the Empire.

When news spread of the Kohinoor’s arrival in Southampton, Britain was gripped. People clamoured to see what was, at the time, the largest diamond in world.

The first opportunity for people to see it was at the Great Exhibition. There was a great rush, but the crowds left disappointed. Newspapers reported that it didn’t really sparkle. It was overrated.

A lot work went into fixing Dalhousie’s gift.

First, the organisers cut off all natural light to the diamond and shone lamps upon it at specific angles. Reports came back that although its lustre was much improved, visiting the Kohinoor was a hot, close and arduous visit. Some viewers fainted.

It was then decided that the diamond be cut. In the process it lost almost half of its size, but it shone like never before. At last the diamond was fulfilled its promise. It went on to be set into jewellery and has sat in the crowns of three different queens.

What did Dalhousie get wrong? He misunderstood his market. In the East, the fashion with precious gems was to leave them as natural as possible so you could appreciate the beauty of nature’s creation. In the west cutting and polishing gems to bring out their lustre was the thing. It was about getting the most sparkle.

Dalhousie was mesmerised by his product, but he ignored the audience. They weren’t impressed. It’s an instructive lesson: he failed to understand his market so even the world’s largest diamond did not impress.