Going With Your Gut

by Jim Freund

© 2022

            Playing tennis last week, I attempted an ambitious cross-court return of my opponent’s deft shot, but sadly my effort ended up in the net. In conducting an on-the-spot assessment of what caused the error, I recalled a bit of personal learning from an article I’d written almost four decades ago. The original text went like this:

             Recently, I noticed a recurring problem in my tennis game – a bad choice of shots, trying something a little too cute for which my body was ill-prepared. I improved my game by adopting a rigid rule – namely, that the first concept to enter my head regarding the appropriate stroke is the one I will follow; under no circumstances will I change my mind at the last minute (which, I discovered, was exactly what I had been doing) and attempt a different shot, involving awkward body or arm movements. While my shot selection has become somewhat more prosaic, the chances of the ball landing in the opponent’s court have now increased measurably.

             “Damn!” I muttered last week – “that’s exactly the mistake I just made.” Rejecting the more prosaic down-the-line shot that my mind initially proposed, I’d switched to a more artful (but also more demanding) cross-court shot that ended up buried in the net.

             That evening I checked the relevant paragraph – which was part of an essay Going With Your Gut, in a section of my book (Legal-Ease – Fresh Insights into Lawyering) titled The Quest for Good Judgment. The tennis example had been used to illustrate a specific point, as described in these two excerpts from the original essay:

             The framework for our inquiry [into what constitutes good judgment] is decision-making. At the heart of decision-making is the appreciation of significance – the ability to sort out what is significant from what is unimportant or irrelevant. You can’t make good decisions by simply lining up the factors and striking an arithmetic balance; the weighing process is critical to sound judgment. Most bad decisions are the product of giving too much weight to a factor that didn’t deserve it, or failing to appreciate the significance of a factor at the heart of things.

             At which point back then I got down to the subject matter of this essay:

             It’s clear to me that one of the most important factors in any situation is your first reaction to it. Unless your instincts are really lousy, that initial response has to deserve a lot of weight.

             The question, though, is how much weight? And conversely, how many times do we abandon our initial instinct, allowing ourselves to be overwhelmed by those fearful (or fanciful, or rationalized, or slanted) second thoughts? In any case, I’m convinced that the decision of whether to “go with your gut” has wide applicability in everyday life.

             What I’m really interested in here is how much (if at all) our reliance on gut instincts may change as we segue into advanced age – and, in our case, during an era of such scourges as Covid and dementia.

             Let’s begin with an example – one that I used when revisiting this subject ten years ago in an essay titled Good Judgment.

            Restaurants offer a classic example of visceral vs. secondary response. In those first few moments of menu-scanning, at least one item usually strikes a responsive chord – you can literally taste it. Many people, however, don’t stop there. They converse with their companions over what sounds promising; they’re influenced by vivid descriptions of daily specials (which often sound better than the actual product will taste, especially when the waiter has a charming continental accent); they adjust their own selection to the tastes of a mate, particularly if some sharing is likely; and so on. As a result, they often end up ordering something other than that first spontaneous choice, to their probable detriment.

             The restaurant example spotlights the critical role the views of others play in orchestrating those second thoughts – as compared with the intuitive reaction, which I envision as springing from one’s unconscious mind.

             In contrast to selections from a menu, matters such as friendship and other personal relations don’t necessarily tilt in favor of following your first instinct. Sure, there are times when two people hit it right off and are buddies for life. (Thankfully, I can point here to the instant attraction I felt on first sight toward Barbara – the woman who became my wife and has proved to be such a delightful life’s companion.) But at other times, the value of a relationship may sneak up on you, even overcoming some initial negative feelings. And conversely, someone can be entrancing at a cocktail party – a sprightly wit, a bit of patter – but the real question is, how will that same patter seem when warmed over about 30 times? Is there any substance? All of which suggests that initial reactions may be a less reliable guide if what’s involved is something that can only be tested over a protracted period.

             (On the other hand, when a guy approaches you on the street and displays a selection of gold watches under his overcoat, your first negative instinct is probably solid. This is less a lifelong relationship than a one-shot transaction – you’re unlikely to have time to surmount those bad vibes and appreciate his admirable qualities.)

             How about that tennis example I used earlier – did I derive any principles from my rigid rule there? Yes, I did: namely, that initial instincts are entitled to particular weight when they involve (i) the functioning of your own body, and/or (ii) decisions being made under real pressure of time.

             I’m sure there have been numerous public analyses of this topic to which I might have turned for inspiration, but I’m not ashamed to admit I did no such research back then (or now). However, in writing the original essay I decided to sample outside opinion on the subject. Here are some constructive thoughts I received from a few friends: 

• A key factor to assess is how well you’ve fared in the past while depending on that first instinct. If your track record is bad, then prudence dictates that you ride with those sober second thoughts.

• While you’re in a learning process, you should probably avoid trusting your instincts. Conversely, your instincts are sharper when the subject matter is right up your alley.

• One friend (who, when I put the proposition, cracked me up by replying, “Do you want to know my first thought?”) felt that people tend to handle this issue the way they’ve always done – water seeking its own level, as it were. This raises the possibility of a self-fulfilling prophecy (a follower of first instincts, although often proved wrong, continues to knowingly court disaster).

• “Wait a minute,” another said to me. “You’re assuming almost objective criteria to determine whether something turns out good or bad, or whether your decision proved right or wrong. It may be more important how you feel about it after the fact.” She then told me she feels better when trusting her instincts; otherwise, she opens herself up to too much personal second-guessing. “I have to be able to say to myself I did the best I could and that’s easier when I go with my instincts.”

            Since my principal audience for the original essay consisted of lawyers, I then decided to discuss what I call “The Smell Test”. I do feel, however, that the concept has equal relevance for anyone facing situations of this kind, and so I’m including it here.

             Most of the top corporate/securities lawyers I’ve known approach any complex scheme with what’s generally known as a Smell Test. There are lots of agile minds around, and an endless variety of ways to shape facts and justify actions. But if, cutting through everything else, what’s been proposed is (in effect) paying a bribe, or duping the public, or something else of dubious propriety, then it doesn’t pass the smell test and you shouldn’t get involved.

            And that’s true even if each individual element of the scheme, taken separately, can pass muster. Peer through that elaborate methodology and reflect on the whole package: what does it all mean? If your nose twitches, then basic changes are required, introducing elements of fairness and arm’s length dealing before proceeding. And remember (as one friend put it): false positive (the slick scheme) is much worse than false negative (the missed opportunity); it’s never the deal you don’t do that kills you.

            For an experienced and ethical attorney – as well as anyone else facing a nose-twitching scheme – the smell test is an invaluable aspect of instinct. But you don’t develop a sensitive proboscis on day one, although you ought to work at it from the outset. The end result may seem simple and direct, but it synthesizes years of experience and judgment. Think of the great athlete who makes the spectacular, instinctive play; it took a lot of playing fields and locker rooms to make it happen.

             And whatever happens, don’t lose sight of your first uncluttered reaction. As time passes, you may tend to slant the facts, to view them through the prism of your desires. For a lawyer, perhaps the issue is whether to take on a new client who seems flaky – but you could really use the business! So you focus on the pieces that support this result – with a good deal of rationalizing, sugaring over, and making excuses. But if you take this guy on, you’re almost bound to have problems down the road.

             That’s why meeting face-to-face with a prospective client at the outset is so vital to a lawyer – as it should be to anyone who is contemplating entry into a business relation with a relative stranger. It’s not only to hear his or her story, but to size up the person who’s telling it. A lawyer has to be adept at evaluating people – as we all should be. Here, too, visceral reactions – particularly negative evaluations – can be significant. If the guy across the table won’t level with you, appears to have something up his sleeve, or has that glint of eye common to self-styled supermen, you better watch out.

             On the other hand, here are some situations in which those sober second thoughts may be just what you need to follow: 

• Don’t get lulled in a negotiation by any noble instincts you may feel  when your adversary, seeking a concession from you, offers an innocent-sounding rationale as to why he needs it. Even negotiators who scrupulously avoid misrepresenting facts don’t feel their adversaries are entitled to see the inner workings of their minds. “Creative motivation,” as I call it, runs rampant around the bargaining table. Don’t rely on the other guy’s explanation; examine it for yourself, with a fresh eye, to see if you can possibly be harmed.

• Don’t always say the first thing that comes into your head in a meeting. Use a safety valve to scrutinize the thought before delivery. Your point may be brilliant for one purpose, but prove negative on another level that you’ve overlooked.

• Don’t answer hypothetical questions from someone seeking  your advice – even when he or she looks angelic and you think you know the answer. Lurking behind that hypothetical is a real situation – most likely with different facts – as to which the advice is actually being sought. Find out what the real situation is and advise on that, or you may well find yourself being relied on to your detriment.

Going with your Gut – Updated

Now let’s look at  how gut instincts are faring in today’s world. My perspective here is as an aging octogenarian – but even if you’re not one of us old guys, it’s worth examining whether some differences in how much you trust your gut may have snuck in over the passing years. For instance, ask yourself questions such as: 

• If you used to rely on your gut a lot and generally it worked out, do you still embrace that reliance and does it continue to succeed?

• If you used to rely on your gut, but often with negative results, has the passage of time decreased such reliance (or not – or even increased it); and if so, does it still fail to work out, or has it improved, or (ugh!) gotten even worse?

• If traditionally you rarely relied on your gut, is the same true today – or are you tempted to depend on it more?

• If in the past you sometimes relied on your gut and sometimes didn’t, does anything different occur nowadays? 

A key factor here is self-confidence – that is to say, most people who rely on their gut are likely to have an abundance of faith in themselves. But it’s tough to sustain such grit as you perceptibly age and your various functions slow down. If so, has that resulted in you going with your gut less often?

Nowadays you might find yourself relying more on the views of others (your spouse, your kids, good friends, paid advisors) than you did formerly. And these third party views (particularly those of spouses and your offspring) often tend to be protective of their aging kinsman, which may cause them to discourage “risky” decisions that your gut – still youthful! – regards as reasonable prospects.

  For me, the main issue comes down to this: if you used to trust your gut (as I often did), should you still do so? My answer is a guarded yes, but with a significant caveat.

  Here’s my reasoning. As I pointed out previously, the better gut decisions tend to be made by those with the kind of useful experience that’s relevant to the issue involved. When you enter your 80’s, what the hell – “useful experience” is sometimes the only thing you have left to boast about! So use it.

  As for the caveat, you need to consider whether, with regard to the issue being posed to you, the world has noticeably changed since you built up your experience. In that case, since you may not have been along for the ride in recent years, your experience might prove to be less valuable. In other words, you may have been renowned with respect to fixing bulky carburetors, but is this experience really helpful when faced with a problem arising in the current Tesla world?

  The onset of dementia, of course, rules out simplistic reliance on almost all reactions – gut or otherwise. But how about the memory glitches (well short of  dementia) that plague most of us – failing to remember names, forgetting words, drawing a blank on the location of keys, etc? My own feeling is that while these manifestations are pesky, they don’t rob us of the ability to make sensible decisions, whether influenced by gut feelings or otherwise.

The Covid pandemic raises other questions pertinent to this inquiry. For instance, I remarked earlier how crucial I consider face-to-face meetings in establishing relationships. Unfortunately, I don’t feel the same way about engaging through Zoom. I’m wary of reaching judgments about people ensconced in distanced virtual locations.

  More generally, risks that once might have seemed reasonable to take now often exude more perilous angles, fed by pessimistic attitudes attributable to all the bad news we’re constantly subjected to.

  A friend recently called to say he had two tickets to a Broadway show that he couldn’t use – he’d like to give them to me. It was a show I very much wanted to see, with a limited run and for which tickets were expensive and scarce. My gut reaction was positive, although I didn’t say yes right away. He mentioned that the seats were great – in the middle of the second row . . . . That was all it took. The latent claustrophobia I feel when not seated on or near an aisle kicked in. And what, I asked myself, about safe distancing in these troubled times? Then there was the dismal prospect of wearing a mask (which I find troublesome) for a three hour show . . . . Well, you guessed it – I ultimately turned his offer down. But I will say that for me, at this juncture in life, it was probably the right decision.

  I don’t know if it’s old age or Covid or whatever, but I find I’m more impatient nowadays – and not just when I pick up the phone only to discover it’s a robocall! Impatience can throw off your gut judgment either way – tempting you to go with your gut because examining the negative possibilities will take too much time, or reject it because a quick survey of the negative (but plausible) second thoughts make it clear that you won’t be able  to consummate the gut call in short order.

  While writing this piece, I gave some thought to how it plays out for me in three of my favorite activities – literature/film, music, and photography.

  Here’s a recurrent scenario I’ve noticed. Someone highly recommends a book or television series to me, on the strength of which I buy the book or access the series. But it doesn’t take long for me to realize that I don’t really like this book or series. In the past, I might have stuck with it, hoping for a change of heart. But now I refuse to waste valuable time (a steadily diminishing commodity as the years go by) on something I just don’t appreciate. It’s my gut, after all – not the recommenders.

  I’ve long had a soft spot for Broadway musicals, scored by superb tunesmiths such as Richard Rodgers and Fritz Loewe. I must confess, however, that I never warmed up to Stephen Sondheim – my gut reacted very negatively to the man’s music. I still get a distinct thrill hearing Renee Fleming sing “You’ll Never Walk Alone” from Rodger’s Carousel, but Sondheim’s stuff – other than a few numbers like “Send in the Clowns” and “I’m Still Here” (which my mother adopted as her anthem as she went flying by the big 1-0-0) didn’t impress.

  But when Sondheim recently passed away, the obits he engendered were so positive that I decided to re-evaluate the man. I listened to Judy Collins sing songs of his such as “No One is Alone” and “Not While I’m Around”, and suddenly I saw the  real merit in his work that I had long overlooked. So I bought the sheet music, started playing and singing the songs, and I’m on the path to becoming a true believer . . . . So much for musical gut . . . .

  Here’s how this sometimes works out for me in photography. The scene I’m viewing through my camera has elicited a positive gut reaction, so I snap it. But when the image is transferred from the camera to the computer, it doesn’t look as good – and here come those sober  second thoughts, creeping in to question my initial affirmative reaction. Is my photo gut weakening? Should I toss this photo aside? And sometimes, admittedly, I do. But often I use the computer to modify the image (by cropping, lighting, increasing contrast, etc. in the editing process) so that it’s closer to what I first saw. And when it works, the photo is “restored” to the glory I was struck with at first glance. Chalk up one for the gut.

  I was determined gut-wise to ski into my 80’s – in part to prove an old fogy’s resilience to my sons and granddaughters. So Barbara and I made a ski trip together with the boys and girls that memorable year. But after a reasonable start, I took a fall on a relatively easy slope. I suffered no physical harm, but psychologically I was really troubled by my inability to get to my feet. And here came Barbara – not much more than half my weight – to lift me up and guide me down the slope. At that point, a new gut message spoke to me loud and clear – stop skiing, Jim. And so I did . . . . which was the right decision. I’ll cite it here for the proposition that your gut is entitled to a mulligan.

  Finally, here’s my current don’t-necessarily-rely-on-your-gut story. Some months ago when I ordered a beer in a restaurant, the waiter asked me for some proof of age. I couldn’t believe it, stammered out something about being in my late 80’s, pointed to my white hair – but he didn’t back off, and I had to produce my driver’s license.

  Well, I have to confess to a fleeting gut reaction that this seeming idiocy represented a positive sign for the decade to come – that my youthful demeanor had overcome the wrinkles, so to speak. After a while, though, those cautionary second voices came through loud and clear – forcing me to realize that the waiter must have been told by management to card everybody (including Methuselah) who walks in the door . . . .

  I’d appreciate having your thoughts on all this.