My brain is generally spent by the time I arrive at work. By 8am I’ve already made some 150 odd micro-decisions, many of which I never knew my brain was computing while making the mad dash for the trains. Do I cross the road on the flashing red man or wait until it goes green again? Which ticket turnstile should I head through? Without an inkling of self-awareness my brain is framing the thriving mass of commuters as they disembark from the train, calculating the path of least resistance up the stairs.
There are two escalators leading from my train station and each morning I take the one that suits me most. Each morning before I even know it my brain has analysed the flow on each and decided ahead of time which one I should head up.
If I don’t make the decision then I’ll just end up head-butting a wall or something for eternity. There’s no ducking it.
1000.
That’s how many decisions the average person makes every day. It might be as innocuous as deciding which pair of shoes flatters your outfit or it might be a decision to invade another country. If you’re the leader of a nation, it could well be both. In the same day. Think about every decision you make every day. Really think. Because most of them will take place in the fascinating periphery of your consciousness. And they wear you down.
Decision fatigue is not a fancy name for a fancy story. It exists and it’s been documented. A study of Israeli parole judges found that prisoners were more likely to get paroled early in the day and far, far less likely at the end. Only morning teas and lunches helped stem the tide of tiredness that these decision-makers must have been feeling.