We make hundreds of decision in a day - many are minor and take very little conscious thought, some are more weighty, both in terms of the thinking needed, and the outcome. We tend to think of decision making as a process of choosing between options: A or B, yes or no, now or later, do nothing or do something. And part of our process then involves weighing those options, and if necessary, gathering the information needed to choose between them. Being human, and like all our thinking, we want to do it as mental-energy-efficiently as possible, consigned to the 'automatic', or lower-conscious levels of our mind for processing. And for most things in our day, that's absolutely fine - and so, many regular decisions are made from habit - pre-defined answers to common decision questions.
Most of the time, we are simply getting on with things, we're following familiar routines, responding to what is happening around us, and continuing along a broadly understood path. Then, a decision is required when something interrupts that flow. Perhaps something changes, something stops working, an opportunity presents itself, priorities conflict, resources become constrained, or the route ahead becomes uncertain. And so, a decision can be thought of as a small patch of friction in the flow of what we are doing; and if we can't decide 'automatically', then some for form of conscious choice is required.
Our focus and attention is then drawn to making the decision, choosing an option, and removing that patch of friction so we can continue on our way. But that natural human tendency to make decisions as quickly and efficiently as possible, often results in making the decision without full knowledge of the context in which the need to make a decision arose. So maybe, sometimes, we need to take a step backwards, and take a moment to understand why a decision point arose in the first place.
A decision is a 'problem we need to solve'. It is often framed in such a way that it feels like all available information and all possible options are included in the question. Suppose the question put on the table is: 'should we recruit another salesperson'? That sounds like a reasonably clear decision with a yes of no answer. But we may decide to do a little more probing to determine why the question has arisen: Are we short of leads? Are we generating enough leads but failing to convert them? Is the existing sales team genuinely overloaded? Are customers buying more slowly?
However, the decision we initially see, or are presented with, is not always the decision we actually need to make. Sometimes, the most important part of making a decision is discovering what the decision really is. From our example, perhaps we trying to grow sales when the real constraint sits somewhere else in the business - and the extra sales person could be the opposite of what will really help.
Questions are often the result of someone's attempt to understand a problem and identify a solution - and being human, they may not have applied the necessary rigour to either of those elements; it's the same story of wanting to do things efficiently/automatically and quickly.
So, take a 'decision' question as an opportunity to probe a possibly deeper issue. We need to be reasonably clear about what we are really trying to achieve, focus on the needed outcome, and then work back from there - when we do that, this particular 'decision' may disappear completely.
Once we understand what we are actually trying to decide, information to inform that decision matters. But that doesn't mean collecting everything we possibly can. More information is not automatically better information, particularly when some of it is out of date, marginally relevant, or simply adds noise.
What matters is having enough timely and relevant information to understand the situation, and define the available choices together with their likely consequences. We rarely have complete information and we certainly wouldn't have the time to wait for it. While we can't know everything, we do need enough information to ensure we have sufficient understanding of the things that actually matter. And 'enough' will vary from one decision to another.
Some decisions are relatively easy to reverse. We can try something, watch what happens and change course if it doesn’t work. These are sometimes described as two-way-door decisions: we can walk through the door and, if necessary, walk back again.
Others are much harder to undo. They may commit significant money, affect people’s careers, change important relationships, damage reputation, or close off future options. These are closer to one-way doors.
This distinction matters because the amount of understanding we need before deciding and acting should probably be different. If the decision is cheap, reversible, and easy to test, extensive analysis may actually slow down learning. Make the decision, observe what happens, and adapt. If the consequences are significant and difficult to reverse, it makes sense to understand rather more before stepping through the door.
And so 'enough' does vary from one decision to another; considering the enormity or risk of the decision can quite often allow us to weight the information gathering and considering that is needed.
When presented with a decision, we usually feel compelled to comply - think about ordering sides in a restaurant (salads, breads, fries) multiple layers of options, many of which I don't know enough about to choose, but a choice has to be made - it's exhausting!!! So, there is one other possibility, perhaps some of the decisions that consume our attention don’t really need to be decisions.
Routine choices can sometimes be governed by clear principles (Monday socks on Mondays!!). Others can be delegated (ask the waiter to bring whatever their faovourite slalad and dressing are). Some can be standardised (coffee black - tea with milk). Some can be tested cheaply rather than debated extensively. And some may simply not matter enough to warrant the attention we give them.
And decision fatigue is a well understood phenomenon; making decisions is cognitively tiring, and effort spent making trivial decisions makes important decisions later in the day less optimal. Just trying to become better at making decisions is NOT the solution, but becoming more selective about which decisions deserve our attention in the first place is a much better approach.
Good decision making may therefore begin some way before the decision itself: understanding why the choice has appeared, what we are actually trying to change, what we need to know, and how much thought the consequences justify.
And, every now and then, recognising that there wasn’t really a useful decision to make at all.
Ad futurum
Graham
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