Improving everyday decisions

Decision paralysis. That state you fall into when you stand perplexed before an everyday decision: you are no longer present in the world; your mind is stuck in a state of constipated anxiety; you try to choose the best option but nothing is good, you break the trance by going with the status quo and do your best to assure yourself it will be alright.

Here’s an example from this morning: donned in pyjamas (who can tell under these big winter coats) I set out to my local supermarket driven by the idea of poached eggs on spinach. I hoped to find a small box of baby spinach, not the massive bags of grown-up spinach. I scan the fresh vegetable section only to find the massive, intimidating bag of big-leafed spinach. In vain I search again to make sure there is no baby spinach. I don’t want the big spinach. I can hardly fit the bag into my small german bar fridge and then what am I going to do with all that spinach? I consider alternative poached egg side options: avocado. The “ready-to-eat” avocados are half-ripe hmm. What about the common field-salad? That was nice last time. But I don’t feel like it. It’s too salady. My mind glazes over and I check again that they really don’t have the small box of baby spinach. They don’t. I enter a trance of dissatisf(in)action oscillating between all the imperfect options: the half-ripe avocado, the huge bag of spinach, the insubstantial field-salad. Maybe I should just give up on this breakfast idea altogether.

I can’t imagine artificial intelligences doing this. Why can’t I master even the smallest of decision dilemmas? But I can. I create an algorithm for myself:

Step 1. Brainstorm options.

I did this naturally. I have the big bag of spinach, the half-ripe avocado, the field-salad, and no poached eggs for breakfast. I could brainstorm some more, but I haven’t got all day.

Step 2. Predict the consequences.

Generate the first level of consequences that arise from going with each option. If I buy the big bag of spinach it will take up room in my fridge and I’ll have to think of other things to make with spinach. If I buy the half-ripe avocado I’m going to have to endure that hard unsatisfying half-ripe avocado taste. If I buy the field-salad I’m going to have that empty airy grassy taste. If I have no poached eggs, that is sad! I could try to predict the next generation of consequences, but I haven’t got all day.

Step 3. Compare the consequences and choose the least bad option.

I could have said “choose the best option” which we are used to hearing, but the word “best” makes me think of a real winner, and there are no real winners here. This is a decision amongst options with varying degrees of dissatisfaction. The best option is the small box of baby spinach, which isn’t there. But if I compare the consequences of my next-best options, an obvious winner quickly comes to the fore. I can choose quickly between having a big bag of spinach in my fridge and eating an unripe avocado. I grab the big bag and move on with my day.

This example decision was unimportant. The worst thing that could happen is I have a crap breakfast. But the amount of time and the amount of anxiety I endured deliberating on only this small decision is alarming. Imagine if I could deftly, swiftly navigate the decisions of my daily life. Coursing through life like a swallow in flight. And if I struggle with the small, how am I supposed to master the big?

Sometimes the small decisions do have significant impact. Yesterday evening at my company’s all-hands meeting I was sitting near the front as the volume got pretty loud during a remote presentation. I hate loud sound: if I endure loud sound, I will pay for it days later. I cringed internally when the sound level increased, looking around wondering if I could move to the back. The area was packed. Also, I didn’t want to abandon my new-starter colleague and leave them feeling awkward. Also, I didn’t want to bring attention to myself and distract from the presentation. Sandwiched between the loud sound and my indecision, I succumbed to the status quo and did nothing, assuring myself it wasn’t so loud, that it would be over soon, and look, no one else seemed pained by it.

I woke up the next morning to the worry that the sound was too loud for too long. My anger at my inaction prompted this blog post. Let’s redo that decision with the above algorithm.

Step 1. Brainstorm options.

I could get up and push my way through people to the back.
I could do nothing (the default action).
Interestingly, these were the only two real options I naturally brainstormed. Granted, I was tired and under duress. Here’s more I identify now:
I could block my ears with my fingers.
I could go downstairs as if I were going to the toilet.

Step 2. Predict the consequences.

If I get up and push my way to the back: my new colleague might feel awkward and alone; people might be annoyed and think I’m rude; I might end up close to another speaker where the sound is just as loud.
If I block my ears with my fingers: people might think I’m rude or weird.
If I go downstairs as if I’m going to the toilet: I’ll have to watch the presentation from afar.
If I do nothing: I’ll have the aftereffects of being exposed to loud sound, and I’ll beat myself up.

These consequences are not as certain as the ones in the spinach-decision. It’s worth assessing how likely they are to happen. Will my new colleague really feel abandoned if I get up and leave? They seem pretty cool and confident. Will the people really think I’m rude? They are not just people, they are my colleagues. They know I’m a nice person and are unlikely to jump to the conclusion that I’m being rude.

Step 3. Compare the consequences and choose the least bad option.

Even if I were surrounded by strangers who would think I was rude and weird or my new colleague would feel slightly awkward now sitting on their own, these effects would not last as long as the aftereffects of me enduring loud sound and beating myself up. An attractive option is pretending to go to the toilet, as that likely wouldn’t raise any eyebrows whatsoever. If the goal were purely to get away from the sound, that would be the best option. But since I am also interested in watching the presentation, I would get a better view if I just stuck my fingers in my ears. Depending on which goal was more important to me–watching the presentation or getting away from the sound–I could make a quick and obvious choice.

The trick to making quicker better decisions is to make the decision obvious. When we choose between obviously good and bad options, we hardly notice we are making a decision. The task is to make it obvious which options are better, and to generate them in the first place.

Life is short and wonderful. Let’s cut out the decision paralysis. Bon appétit!