Why I write every decision down before I make it

Before any decision that costs real money or real trust, I write one page. It slows me down by a day. It has also kept me out of more bad deals than any adviser I've paid.

Sabir Salim Shaikh standing beside his car outside an office building on an overcast morning
Sabir Salim Shaikh

Most of the bad decisions I've made felt obvious at the time. That's what makes them dangerous. In the room, with a good salesperson across the table and a number that looks right, everything feels obvious.

So I made a rule. Anything that commits serious money, or changes who I work with, gets one page before I say yes. Typed or handwritten, it doesn't matter. It just has to exist.

What goes on the page

The same four headings, every time.

  1. What I'm deciding. One sentence. If it won't fit in one sentence, I'm deciding two things and I need two pages.
  2. Why now. What happens if I wait a month? Surprisingly often the answer is nothing, and the urgency belonged to someone else.
  3. What would have to be true. The assumptions, written as plain sentences I could be wrong about. Revenue holds at this level. The partner does what they say. The market doesn't turn.
  4. How I'll know I was wrong. A date and a number. If it hasn't happened by then, I stop or change course. The psychologist Gary Klein built a whole method around this idea, the premortem, where a team imagines the project has already failed and works out why.1

Why a page beats a conversation

Talking a decision through with people I trust is useful, but conversation flatters. People nod. I fill the gaps with confidence. A weak assumption slides past because nobody wants to be the one who slows things down.

Paper doesn't nod. A sentence like "the client will renew" looks thin when it sits alone on a line with nothing underneath it.

The page also has to survive a night. I write it in the evening and read it again in the morning. More often than I'd like to admit, the morning version of me crosses something out.

What it costs

A day, usually. Once in a while, a deal, when the other side wanted an answer in the room. I've made peace with that.

The deals that can't wait a day are rarely the ones I regret missing.

What it gives back

The obvious benefit is fewer mistakes. The less obvious one is that the pages pile up. I keep them in one folder and read back through them every few months. Patterns show up that I would never see from memory: the same optimism about payment terms, the same habit of underestimating how long it takes to hire well.

Daniel Kahneman spent a career showing how confidently people misjudge their own plans.2 A folder of my own old pages makes the same point, with my handwriting on it.

A few of those pages became essays on this site. Most stay private, which is the point. They were never written to convince anyone except me.

If you want to try it

Start with one decision

Pick the next decision that makes you slightly nervous and give it the four headings. Don't polish it. Nobody else is going to read it.

Sleep on it

Read it once more in the morning, before you act. You'll either make the same decision with more confidence, or you'll find the thing you were hoping nobody would ask about. Both are worth a day.

Sources

  1. Gary Klein, "Performing a Project Premortem," Harvard Business Review, September 2007. Back
  2. Daniel Kahneman, Thinking, Fast and Slow (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2011). Back
Sabir Salim Shaikh

Sabir Salim Shaikh

Founder, chairman and managing director of SAVIANS Group in Pune. He writes about building and running businesses, from the decisions that worked and the ones that didn't.

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