Why important decisions refuse to be rushed

I started writing these articles two years ago. Honestly, it feels like yesterday.

I think my writing has improved, although that might just be familiarity rather than talent. My sourdough game, on the other hand, definitely has. This year I made sourdough crackers with the leftover discard and got a genuinely delightful snap out of them.

Christmas did that thing it sometimes does when the days fall just right. Work wound down, properly this time. The work brain didn’t need to instantly reboot itself for the next big project, which in my house is Christmas itself. We go big. I do a lot of the cooking.

That extra weekend before Christmas Eve created an uncommon slow space. It left room for a homemade red onion chutney that spent two full days in the slow cooker. Time you won’t regret if you can spare it, and perfect for those sourdough crackers.

After Christmas, I also gathered up all the leftover cheese and made a six-pint batch of inappropriately labelled “Daddy’s white sauce”. It’s portioned and frozen, ready for Q1 pasta dishes. If you just threw away the last bit of Stilton because it had the wrong mould on it, consider this my Christmas gift to future you. 

Inappropriate labelling is optional.

Oh one more tip, we bought some environmentally friendly sponges from Seep recently. They’re more expensive than the cheap plasticky ones, a payoff you’ll reap only if they actually last longer. 

Our first one has survived Christmas and is still going strong (we would’ve got through loads of cheapies by now). If you’re on the fence, here’s the kicker for you, it turns out they also leave ET-shaped watermarks on the sink, which feels either “fantasy magical” or “Area 51 mildly concerning”.

Anyway, by Boxing Day, everything was done. The daily mission was now incredibly simple (and refreshingly unambitious): A decent walk, a family film, and a jazzy ale or two that I hadn’t tried before. 

Nature takes time during winter to recover, I think we need to do the same.

When systems move faster than people

In some ways, the world feels like it’s moving at a million miles an hour. In others, not much has changed at all.

I only just heard about this particular bit of online nonsense recently, despite it predating the first article I wrote by over a year. With so much content, that lag  (between what’s happening and when it finds me) feels increasingly varied. 

Unlike, for example, the cultural gathering of a new TV show being watched at the same time by millions, when we briefly remember that shared media experiences used to exist.

Oh, I have a great “experience” to share from my first week back this year, it’s that gap when someone has built a sales process. With the goal of minimal effort presumably to approach people at scale, but with one critical hole in it that left everyone in the process clueless, let me set the scene (delicately).

I received a LinkedIn message from a world-famous Olympian, asking if I’d be interested in a co-authored project around purpose. 

I know my place. It isn’t there, I am not worthy.

Still, I was curious to explore the chat.

Next step, someone from their team asked for my number. 

I was scooted into WhatsApp. 

Then a link to book a slot with another person to talk further. 

Slick & professional (if a little impersonal).

What I didn’t know was that somewhere along the way, I was supposed to receive an email outlining the pricing to join this exclusive club. A small detail. An expensive one it turns out. A critical one for the process.

I turned up for a meeting to discover more, greeted by a disappointed salesman hoping to close a deal.

I got sent the email after, it outlined all the details, and turned out to be the critical step in the journey (and even more likely) a common drop-off point for many.

This is the bit that always gets me.

The elaborate charades we build around sales. The way processes twist in on themselves. How internally focused they become. 

All while forgetting a simple truth: At some point, someone has to commit money to someone they trust to solve a problem they actually have.

When systems are designed to move quickly, they often assume people will too. 

But trust isnt fuelled on brevity, it prefers authenticity.

There’s a well-known idea in psychology called fast and slow thinking, which is a polite way of saying our brains have a sprint mode and a Sunday afternoon mode. 

Fast thinking is brilliant for momentum, notifications, and clicking “yes” without reading the small print. 

Slow thinking is what turns up when something actually matters, like trust, money, or whether that Stilton is still safe.

What’s struck me more and more is how many of the systems we use are built for fast thinking, dopamine hits. 

While trust, meaning and good judgement still live firmly in the slow lane.

Purpose, systems, and what we actually bring

I’m currently listening to Net Positive and heard a quote that stuck with me. As you know, I like to collect them with bold ambition and no clear plan for where they’ll all end up.

“Passion is finding yourself. Purpose is losing yourself.”

John Henry Jowett.

I originally had it the wrong way around (which feels on brand), but I tend to associate passion with losing myself in something. But the point (I think) is this:

Passion is inwardly focused. Purpose is outward. One feels good. The other usually asks more of you.

That difference is key when we design systems, from governments to digital apps.

Oh, on that note, there was a big update last week, Google’s Universal Commerce Protocol, if it sounds complicated, there’s a nice human explanation here. It basically aims to help shopping systems talk to each other more smoothly and carry out a purchase in the browser with an AI.

My apologies if youve heard this, I keep saying the same thing. Every company will be a tech company this year.

Not because everyone should chase software for the sake of it, but because software is becoming incredibly easy to produce. The barrier is no longer the code.

I’m currently creating a game in C++, a programming language I can’t write. 

That’s by design. If I can do that, then anyone else can build an app.

Like many small businesses, we’ve collected software subscriptions over the years. Bug reporting, internal project management, client-facing tools, server monitoring. None of them talk together properly.

So we’re turning some of them off and building our own portal. It will save money and give our clients a better experience.

We are also creating a brand app, where you can store your brand assets and uncover the purposeful elements of your brand. 

These would normally require an expert to facilitate interactive workshops and be delivered in person (that might still be the case). Now, for a small monthly fee everyone will have a playground for exploration, alpha to be released soon, watch this space.

The point isn’t the tools.

When you build with AI, it will happily solve technical problems for you. What it can’t do is decide what good looks like, or why that matters.

That comes from lived experience. From judgment. From knowing where people get confused, frustrated, or lose trust in you or the process.

If software is becoming easier to make, generic solutions will matter less. Value will come from your perspective on how a system should work, not just that it exists.

I mentioned Ikigai in another article I wrote, it feels more relevant than ever.

If value sits at the intersection of what you’re good at, what the world needs, and what sustains you, then the real question becomes this.

“What would the system you build look like if it truly supported all that?”

And are the ones you’re using right now actually creating impact, or just helping you move faster?