It’s 4:47 p.m. There’s a proposal on the table that I wanted to send out that very afternoon. Tomorrow morning, I would almost certainly have worded it differently. Not because the facts had changed, but because I myself would be a different person.
I still remember that afternoon clearly. Five meetings, two presentations, a phone call that took longer than planned. And then there was a proposal for a client I’d been working with for months. It was actually supposed to wait until the next morning. But the pressure was on, so I finished it and sent it off.
It wasn’t until the next morning, when I read it again, that the question occurred to me: Would I have phrased it that way at nine o’clock?
I’m pretty sure the answer is no.
That kept me thinking. Not because I think the proposal was fundamentally wrong, but because the question behind it is much bigger than this one document: When do we make our worst decisions? And do we even realize it while it’s happening?
The Cost of Timing
In the insurance industry, we invest heavily in making better decisions. We train sales teams, develop guidelines, build models, and digitize processes. All of this makes sense and is the right thing to do. What we rarely discuss, however, is the timing of those decisions. That’s the blind spot.
What Happens Inside
In cognitive psychology, this phenomenon has a specific name: decision fatigue. It describes a well-documented phenomenon: The quality of human judgment declines throughout the day with every decision made, regardless of experience, expertise, or personal diligence. The brain treats decision-making capacity as a finite resource. When this resource is low, our judgment follows two typical patterns: Either we choose the option with the lowest risk—that is, we reject, postpone, or leave things as they are. Or we make impulsive decisions because we lack the cognitive energy to truly weigh the alternatives.
Both are measurable. An Israeli research group spent months studying judges’ decisions on probation requests. The result was striking: In the morning, judges approved about 65 percent of the requests. Shortly before the break, the approval rate dropped to nearly zero. Immediately after the break, it rose again to 65 percent. Not because the cases were different. The judges were different, depending on the time of day and their level of fatigue.
They aren’t bad judges; they’re just human beings.
In the insurance
In our industry, we make a multitude of decisions every day, many of which seem so obvious that we hardly notice we’re making them. Which quote I review critically one more time and which I send out right away. Whether I reply to a client today or wait until tomorrow. How I assess a conversation with a prospective client who’s hesitating. Whether I tell a salesperson in a coaching session what they want to hear, or what will truly help them move forward.
These decisions may sound routine, but they’re not. Each one has consequences for a person, for a relationship, and for the trust that has been built up over months. And each one is prone to decision fatigue. In my work with sales teams in the insurance industry, I’ve observed the same pattern for years: The most important customer meetings are scheduled for the afternoon because the morning is reserved for administrative tasks. Major sales decisions are made after twenty smaller ones have already been made. The proposals that really matter are finalized when energy reserves are nearly depleted.
This isn’t a matter of goodwill. It’s a matter of structure. This is particularly noticeable during counseling sessions. A session in the late afternoon, after a day that has already included five other sessions, isn’t the same as one in the morning. The questions are the same. But the ability to listen is different. And so, too, are the recommendation that emerges at the end of the meeting and the trust that’s at stake.
The way I see it
I don’t think the answer is to make fewer decisions. In most organizations, that’s neither realistic nor sensible. And I’m not saying that decisions made in the afternoon are generally wrong.
Here’s what I believe: The quality of a decision isn’t just a matter of competence. It’s also a matter of structure. Anyone who systematically schedules their most important decisions for the second half of the day—when they’re already exhausted—ends up making those decisions with less mental capacity, without even realizing it. Decision fatigue isn’t a sign of personal weakness. It’s neurobiology. And those who understand this can make the most of it: not by postponing all difficult decisions until the morning—which is unrealistic—but by carefully assessing which decisions truly require full mental capacity and setting aside time for them.
The Empty Friday Morning
A leader I worked with some time ago had an unusual rule. Friday mornings were off-limits. No meetings, no calls, no discussions. To an outsider, it might have looked like laziness. It was quite the opposite. It was the only hour of the week when she made the decisions that really mattered. It wasn’t because it was Friday, but because during that hour, she hadn’t yet considered any other decisions.
Marcus Selzer
See also: Fear That Laughs
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