We have a peculiar relationship with simplicity. We distrust it. If something can be done in two steps, we prefer seven. If a decision can be taken by one person, we invite six others to advise. If a problem has a straightforward solution, we will first establish a committee to examine whether the solution has adequately considered everybody’s feelings. We then complain that nothing gets done. We are exceptionally efficient at making life difficult and equally efficient at blaming circumstances.

Take the humble family lunch. Someone suggests going out on Sunday. A perfectly reasonable proposition. Within minutes, a discussion begins about the venue, cuisine, timing, parking, distance, traffic, budget and whether the restaurant has sufficiently comfortable chairs. One person wants Chinese, another wants South Indian, a third has stopped eating carbohydrates and a fourth has watched a reel about a new place. Someone remembers a disappointing meal from three years ago and presents it as permanent evidence against the establishment. The family eventually settles on the same restaurant it has been visiting for a decade. The discussion has taken longer than the meal will.

Choosing a restaurant with friends is even more entertaining. Nobody wants responsibility for the decision, but everybody wants veto power. The person who suggests a place is immediately subjected to cross-examination. Is it expensive? Is it noisy? Is the food good? Is there parking? Has anybody been there recently? One friend says, “Anything is fine”, a sentence that should never be trusted.

Our offices have elevated this behaviour into an operating model. A meeting is called to decide whether a meeting is necessary. Another meeting is scheduled to discuss the points that could not be resolved in the first meeting. A presentation is prepared, circulated, corrected, revised and presented again. Someone requests a separate discussion with two stakeholders before the matter can be taken forward. Minutes are recorded, comments invited and the minutes of the meeting are discussed at the next meeting. The original decision is still pending, but everybody has demonstrated considerable commitment to the process.

There is always somebody who wants to be consulted. Their contribution may be unnecessary, their expertise uncertain and their availability limited, but their absence from the discussion would be a serious procedural injustice. Some people do not want to make decisions. They want to be seen participating in decisions. It is a wonderfully safe arrangement. If things work, they were involved. If things fail, they had reservations.

Buying a refrigerator can become a family referendum. One person studies energy ratings, another compares brands, a third consults the neighbour who recently bought one, and somebody forwards a YouTube review lasting 47 minutes. The family interrogates the shop assistant as though he is defending a doctoral thesis. The purchase is finally made, only for a relative to announce that the same model was available at a lower price elsewhere.

Holidays are no better. We want to escape the pressures of everyday life, but first we must prepare an itinerary with the precision of a military operation. Hotels are compared across seventeen websites. Restaurants are researched. Influencers are consulted. Every attraction must be rated, every transfer calculated and every meal planned. We want an authentic local experience, provided it has been recommended by 4.8 million people and comes with photographs proving that we were there. By the time the holiday begins, we are exhausted from planning the break.

Family decisions are particularly vulnerable to unsolicited expertise. A child must choose a course, a college or a career. Parents consult relatives, neighbours, former colleagues, family friends and people whose professional achievements are impossible to establish. One uncle knows somebody in the industry. One aunt has a friend’s son who studied abroad. Another relative has watched a podcast. Everybody has a recommendation, preferably delivered with the confidence of someone who will personally finance the consequences. The child, who will actually have to live with the decision, is often the least consulted person in the room.

We also have an extraordinary ability to turn a minor disagreement into a prolonged investigation. Someone makes a casual remark. We examine the tone, question the intention, revisit the history and introduce evidence from an earlier conversation. Before long, the original subject has disappeared and the discussion concerns what somebody said five years ago, in whose presence and wearing what expression. We don’t let things go. We put them in cold storage and retrieve them when the occasion demands.

Our dependence on other people’s opinions is equally amusing. We need reviews before choosing a restaurant, influencers before buying a product and recommendations before deciding whether a destination is worth visiting. We consult strangers about matters on which we have perfectly adequate judgement of our own. We then ignore the advice, complain about the recommendation and blame the reviewer. Apparently, independent thinking is something we outsource.

There is a deeper attraction behind all this complication. Being involved makes us feel important. Having an opinion establishes our presence. Asking another question gives us another opportunity to demonstrate that we know something.

Our residential societies are excellent training grounds for this pastime. A leaking tap can generate a WhatsApp debate involving maintenance, plumbing, accountability, expenditure and the historical conduct of the managing committee. Someone will demand transparency. Someone else will question the quotation. A third will suggest getting another estimate. The tap continues leaking while the society establishes its constitutional position on plumbing.

Perhaps we should try an experiment. The next time somebody suggests lunch, choose a restaurant. When invited somewhere, say yes or no. When a meeting reaches a decision, end it. When a child asks what to study, listen before calling the family advisory board.

This could prove difficult. Somebody will undoubtedly object that the matter requires further discussion.

We should probably schedule a meeting.