My decision was made. I looked up and realized everyone else was still undecided. So I opened the menu and quickly scanned other items, asking, “Is anything more appealing than a Cobb salad?” 

The binary choice I had set up made the comparison easy, and in a minute, I was five pages through the menu. Then, I spotted a Reuben sandwich. That was the first item that struck me as more appealing than a Cobb salad. 

Then I perused the rest of the menu, asking, “Is anything better than a Reuben sandwich?” I was done with the whole process in less than two minutes. 

I looked up, delighted with my Reuben selection. At the same time, my friends were still engaged in what appeared to be deep philosophical negotiations with their menus, as if deciding the fate of nations rather than dinner.

Hmm. I had stumbled upon something that might have wide application in decision-making. I call it binary decision-making.

Years later, my partner and I moved from L.A. to Washington, DC. We went on a quick trip to find a place to live. He would be in meetings all day, so I went to see homes with a Realtor. We had made a list of “must-have” and “nice-to-have” criteria. In less than three days, I saw 25 homes, and based on my list of criteria, I narrowed it down to five finalists.

Then, one evening, I returned with my partner to see the five contenders. I used my binary decision-making process to prioritize the five finalists in reverse order of preference.

We took my partner to my least favorite of the five, then to my next-to-least favorite. 

After he saw the first two finalists, I asked him which one he preferred (without revealing my preferences).

He chose the second one. “So, let’s forget about the first house you saw. You prefer this one over that one. Let’s move on.”

We continued to my #3 choice. Again, I asked my partner which house he preferred. He hesitated and verbally discussed the pros and cons of each.

Then, I asked, “Between this one and the last one, which do you prefer?”

“I’ll have to go with this one.”

Again, we agreed, but I kept my poker face on.

Then we saw my #2 choice. Again, he took his time to ponder his decision. He revisited the kitchen and a room he identified as “his office.” 

Once again, he chose #2 over #3. Now, we’re cooking with gas!

Finally, we went to my #1 favorite house. At this point, it was challenging not to talk about my preferences.

One interesting thing about the final two homes is that they were directly across the street from each other. We went back and forth several times, and I could tell he struggled with this final decision.

I had made my peace: despite my preferences, I would have been delighted with any of the last three.

Finally, he said, “Let’s go with the red brick.” (That was my second choice.)

I said, “Great! Let’s make an offer.”

The Realtor checked his watch three times. I wondered if he had another appointment. I asked him, “Do you need to do something, or can we write up an offer tonight?”

“Of course, we can write up an offer,” he said, sounding perplexed. “I’m just awe-struck that you two made a mid-six-figure decision in less time than it takes most people to choose a breakfast cereal.”

Frankly, I was amazed as well. 

They say choices are the hinges of destiny, but nobody mentioned these hinges would squeak so loudly. 

Today, I no longer stand frozen in front of restaurant menus or spend weeks agonizing over which shade of white to paint the bathroom. 

My binary decision-making method has given me back countless hours of my life—hours I now spend helping friends choose between perfectly good options while they look at me like I’ve discovered fire.

My sister had the same malady and dreaded taking her three young boys anywhere that would involve decisions. She called me in tears one day. “The boys and I are at The Magic Kingdom, and we can’t make up our minds what to see in what order.”