The Cost of Ambiguity

My wife and I don't fight often, but we do disagree passionately from time to time. If asked about the other person, I think we'd both say, "They're intelligent, well-meaning, and thoughtful, but sometimes we're on completely different pages."

A recent marital mix-up happened only minutes after we both woke up.

It's Friday morning, and with no meetings on the calendar, we both decide to sleep in a little without telling the other. Before we know it, we've silenced our alarms and are slumbering away, enjoying a few extra minutes of rest we're seldom granted at the same time.

A short time later, the alarm clock we co-created goes off, ending any chance of peaceful rest.

I glance at my phone.

"Oh no! I thought you were taking Murph to daycare this morning. She's going to be late and miss breakfast."

My wife sits up, throws off the covers with a little more gusto than necessary, and says without looking at me, "I thought you were taking her. You always take her."

I exhale loudly, hoping she hears what I'm choosing to leave unsaid, and go to get our daughter up.

I don't take her EVERY day, I think as I walk into Murph's room. Why would she just assume that?

I wasn't in my wife's head at that moment, but in retrospect, I imagine she was thinking something along the lines of, He takes her most days. Why would he assume I was taking her today?

Murph was a few minutes late, but her daycare made sure she still got a full breakfast. Crisis averted.

Thankfully, the stakes were pretty low, but that's not always the case. The cost of ambiguity can be much greater than missing out on a delicious helping of Kix and bananas.

The problem wasn't that either of us had communicated poorly. We hadn't communicated at all. We both filled the silence with an assumption, then got frustrated when the other person didn't live up to an expectation we hadn't communicated.

That's one of the easiest ways ambiguity enters our relationships. We assume people know what we know, understand what we mean, or share the same expectations we do. My wife assumed I was taking Murph because I usually do. I assumed she was taking her because, for reasons that made perfect sense in my head, I thought it was her turn. Neither of us stopped to check our assumption.

The cost of those assumptions is misalignment. Two intelligent, well-meaning people can look at the same situation and walk away with completely different expectations. At home, that might mean a late trip to daycare. At work, it can mean a missed deadline or duplicated effort. In our relationships, it can create frustration, diminish trust, and leave people wondering where they stand.

Thankfully, the solution is often simpler than the problem. Before assuming someone knows what you need, expect, or intend, ask yourself, "Have I actually said it?"

If the answer is no, say it.

Clarity might require an extra conversation, an uncomfortable question, or thirty seconds of planning the night before. But that's a small price to pay compared to asking someone to meet an expectation they never knew existed.

Fact

The "curse of knowledge" is a cognitive bias that makes it difficult to remember what it's like not to know something we already know. This can cause us to assume information is obvious to others when it's only obvious to us.

Action

Identify one expectation you're currently holding for someone else that you haven't clearly communicated. Tell them.

Question

Where in your life are you expecting someone else to read your mind?

Quote

"Clear is kind. Unclear is unkind." - Brené Brown