There always seems to be one thing too many to do.
One drama too many to deal with, one plate too many to spin.
This isn’t a figment of our overworked imaginations. It’s an accepted psychological theory that our brains can only handle between seven and nine pieces of information at any one time.
After that?
Dramas turn into crises, plates topple and smash. Life gets out of control.
It was in 1956 that an American psychologist called George Miller put forward this seven-to-nine theory. He called it The Magic Number, the maximum amount of calculations our short-term memories can process at a time.
To test this out, try saying your mobile phone number as 11 digits in a row.
We don’t, do we? We break it into 01234-567890 or 0123-456-7890, because it’s easier to remember that way. Even then, when someone then repeats it back to us in a different grouping than we’ve used, it throws us.
- So if that’s how the brain deals with something this mundane, something we already know by heart, think of the gymnastics it has to perform on a day:
- We have a sick kid to look after;
- A red bill lands on the mat;
- The washing machine packs up;
- We fall out with our other half;
- Someone backs into our car outside Tesco;
- We forget our best pal’s birthday;
- When the dog throws up on the living room rug.
Individually, these everyday problems aren’t difficult to deal with. But if they all comes at us in one, giant, sludgy lump?
It’s quite simply overwhelming.
This struck me in a very topical context the other day when Alex Salmond, formerly leader of the Scottish National Party and the country’s First Minister, issued a writ for milions of pounds in damages against his successor, Nicola Sturgeon and several of her key aides over a criminal case brought against him for alleged sexual misconduct.
When the case collapsed, the Scottish Government held an inquiry which concluded that Salmond had been a victim of “apparent bias”. Now, he’s seeking recompense.
The rights and wrongs of this are not what this piece is about. No, it’s about the effect it could have one Scotland’s current First Minister, Humza Yousaf, as he deals with what is merely the latest in growing issues weighing down on himself, his party and the government.
Put it this way: If the Magic Number of plates our heads can spin is nine, then Mr Yousaf’s cleaning staff better get the extra-large dustpan and brush out.
Ask a dozen different people in Scotland today what the burniest fire he and his collegues are currently fighting and chances are you’ll get a dozen different answers.
There’s the scandal of two half-built, massively-over-budget and horrendous behind schedule ferries whose failure to launch is causing hugely economic issues for some of our western isles.
There’s the NHS, with its every-growing waiting lists for treatment, its shortage of beds and its crumbling infrastructure. There’s an education system where teachers are struggling to cope on so many fronts, from financial cutbacks to declining standards of classroom behaviour.
There’s the marriage of convenience – or inconvenience, depending on your standpoint – with the Scottish Green Party which keeps the SNP in a majority, but which key figures on both sides fear is destined for the rocks.
Two showpiece policies – one on gender recognition, the other a scheme to charge extra for all glass bottles and cans and refund it if they were recycled – collapsed at huge cost, both monetary and political.
Local councils are running out of money. A Police Scotland investigation into missing SNP funds has already seen Ms Sturgeon and her husband, former party chief executive Peter Murrell, arrested and questioned. A key Lanarkshire seat has been lost in a by-election after MP Margaret Ferrier broke Covid rules by travelling to London and back after testing positive.
Throw in the Salmond writ and that’s ten huge problems for Mr Yousaf to deal with, already one more than the Magic Number. And that’s before he deals with the normal, everyday In tray that comes with running a country of five million people.
This isn’t a political comment on my part, just a basic human observation that none of us can mke sense of so many people shouting so many things at us from so many directions at once – especially when we’re also trying to have a life of our own.
Sure, the people at the top in politics, business or any other walk of life have advisers and admin staff and PR experts to shift some of the weight onto. But at the end of the day, it still all comes back on the one at the top. They’re the one who takes the blame when whatever it is they’re charged with making work stops working.
But then, we all know how they feel, if at a less public level. We can all have too much to deal with at times, we can all feel like life’s too much to deal with.
That’s when I’d suggest – whether we’re a high-flying politician, a factory worker, whoever and whatever we happen to be – that we take the same attitude to our problems as we do to our phone numbers.
Don’t try to deal with them all at once. Break them down into manageable chunks.
What do we have to do that simply can’t wait?
Ok, let’s get that done first.
As for the stuff that can wait?
Which is most convenient for us to do next? Whish would give us the most satisaction?
Start to work through a pile of problems in this way and pretty soon it’s looking a whole lot smaller; whereas if all we see is the size of the whole pile, it can overwhelm us in a heartbeat.
Take breaks, even if only for five or ten minutes. Put the kettle on, go outside for some air, have a glass of water.
Don’t say yes to anything that isn’t on your To-Do list; find the confidence to say I’m sorry, can I get back to you once I’m done with all this please?
We’re only human. We can only deal with so much in one go. And to pretend otherwise, to try to be superheroes is a recipe for a whole lot of broken crockery.