Our decisions are professional-looking gambles

The agenda calls for a decision. So we make a decisive call. But what if reality then rears its head a few months later in the form of delays, failure costs, and angry customers, Pim van Meer wonders.

“I know I don’t understand any of this, so I’ll just make a decision,” I told my wife the other day. “At least that way I’ll seem decisive.” We laughed awkwardly. That joke hit a little too close to home.

Because let’s be honest: a shockingly large part of our supply chain operates more or less like this. There’s a drawing on the table. There’s an Excel spreadsheet. Someone speaks with great confidence. And just like that: the decision is made.

That’s actually quite impressive. To have so much certainty based on so little coherence—that takes talent.

A simple sketch looks as if the design already exists. A spreadsheet looks as if the business case is sound. A schedule looks as if someone knows what’s going to happen over the next three years. And as soon as someone presents the whole thing with enough conviction, doubt suddenly feels almost unprofessional.

But in the meantime, those documents often don’t align with one another. The floor areas in the design don’t match the financial assumptions. The schedule relies on information that hasn’t been finalized yet. The systems fit on paper, but later conflict with the structural design. The operations plan is based on performance metrics that have not yet been demonstrated anywhere in the design.

Still, we press on, because the agenda demands a decision. And when reality rears its ugly head again months later in the form of delays, failure costs, angry customers, a shortage of square meters, or shafts that aren’t aligned, we look at each other as if this had just happened to us.

As if complexity were a natural phenomenon. Rain. Wind. Nitrogen. It happens.

But part of that trouble doesn’t stem from projects being complicated at all. It arises because we reduce complex projects to information that seems simpler than it actually is. But simplified diagrams, isolated Excel spreadsheets, and a lot of self-confidence don’t make complex decisions any easier. Above all, they hide just how much we still don’t know.

And then comes the best reflex of all: Be careful with digitization—soon computers will take over our jobs.

Yeah, terrible.

Imagine that a model shows that the areas don’t add up. Imagine that a check reveals that data is missing. Imagine that a digital gate says: this information isn’t yet complete enough to make a responsible decision here.

What a nightmare.

Then we might suddenly have to specify exactly what we know, what we assume, and what is still uncertain. That’s the real discomfort.

It’s not that computers are taking over our work, but that digitization reveals that our decision-making is often less mature than our meeting documents suggest. Because gut instinct has one major advantage: no one has to show exactly where they still have doubts. A convincing narrative can easily gloss over gaps in the information.

A digital model isn’t quite as forgiving in that regard. It simply keeps pointing out that the numbers don’t add up, the program is incomplete, or the assumptions contradict each other.

Don’t get me wrong: charts aren’t stupid. Excel isn’t stupid. And self-confidence isn’t a bad thing either. The problem arises when we confuse these three with coherent information.

A drawing shows what someone wanted to draw. An Excel spreadsheet shows what someone wanted to calculate. Self-confidence shows how determined someone is to follow through. But none of these three proves that a decision is correct.

That’s why we need linked information. 3D models. A uniform language. Clear rules of the game. Validations. Digital checkpoints that show whether the necessary information is available and which uncertainties we consciously accept.

Not so that the computer makes the decision, but so that people finally know what they’re actually deciding on. Experience and intuition therefore remain welcome.

Gut instinct can still come along as a passenger, but no longer as the driver.

Filing moment

We validate models, review drawings, and approve building products. Yet a decision that affects millions of euros, years of work, and hundreds of homes can still be made based on a simple drawing, a single Excel spreadsheet, and a persuasive voice.

That’s not decisiveness. That’s a professional-looking gamble. And as long as we keep confusing that gamble with leadership, all the information we have won’t make us any smarter.

Above all, we’re getting better at hiding what we don’t yet know.