I went to a restaurant with a friend not long ago—just your standard pizza-and-salad joint you’ll find anywhere in America. Nothing fancy, nothing memorable. I already knew what I’d order: a small veggie pizza, maybe a Caesar. Done.
Across from me, my friend was locked in battle with the menu. Reading. Rereading. Second-guessing. It was almost painful to watch—like someone trying to defuse a bomb labeled "Appetizer Sampler."
Especially for people my age—raised on feedback loops and dopamine pings—it hit me: we overcomplicate everything. Even ordering dinner has become a high-stakes mental spiral. It’s called "analysis paralysis." Catchy, sure, but I just call it what it is: indecisiveness.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t relate. I do—big time. I’ll know what I want to say, then second-guess the tone, timing, phrasing. I rehearse it in my head like it’s going on air. Sometimes I just tune out. The loop feeds itself—and nothing gets done.
Gen Z is often seen as outspoken and activist-minded—but we’re also the most indecisive. A 2020 survey found 62% struggle with personal or professional choices. One in three feel paralyzed by uncertainty. And 31% say indecision has kept them from fully living their lives.
It makes sense. We’re drowning in information—every scroll, headline, and take. Every choice feels like a trapdoor. We don’t just want a good decision—we want the perfect one: best Yelp review, best vibe, fastest payoff. We act as if the right sauce or side will magically fix the day. Raised on instant gratification, we treat “best” as a baseline. No wonder we freeze. Choice stops feeling like freedom when you’re terrified of choosing wrong.
The consequences go beyond menus. Indecision and the craving for instant results bleed into how we work—how we show up. Surveys say 75% of employers are frustrated with Gen Z hires, citing poor communication and lack of initiative. It’s not everyone. But the perception is spreading—especially among the people who sign the checks.
So what do you do? There’s no one-size-fits-all fix—choosing dinner isn’t choosing a college. But the longer you treat small choices like personality tests, the more they start to feel like indictments. What’s helped me is this: learn to trust your instinctive call more often. Most decisions won’t define your life. And when something really does feel wrong in your gut? It probably is. That voice in your head? It wants you to move, not spiral.
Studies show your gut can be remarkably effective. In business, intuitive decisions were right 91% of the time. For personal choices, they beat logic nearly 3 to 1. Your body often knows before your brain—tight jaw, light chest, calm or unease. That’s not nerves. That’s information.
But intuition needs experience—and experience doesn’t come from a feed. It comes from failing. From making mistakes. Even Michael Jordan said he succeeded because he failed again and again. We just rarely post that part. It comes from doing: asking questions, taking risks, learning when to leap and when to hold back. And sometimes, it just means making a decision and sticking to it, which is hard enough on its own.
So, when you pull out your menu, trust your gut. Even if you don’t know what it’s saying, trust it. Odds are, the world won’t end over chicken parm. But you’ll learn something—about your taste, your instincts, your appetite for risk. Worst case? You pick a bad meal and chalk it up to a lesson learned. Which reminds me, I’ve heard the chicken here’s delicious. What are you going to order?
