What’s the biggest division in life? Between clever people and stupid people? Between the good-looking and the ugly?
No. The fundamental difference is between the ones who do things quickly and the ones who do them slowly.
You know that friend who emails you back the moment you email them for a favour? Or the builder who comes round the morning you ring him? These are the modern saints – the hyper-efficient deities who put to shame that other friend who only ever rings when they want something out of you; or the plumber you have to ring three times and only ever rings back to say he isn’t coming after all.
Acting fast and slow is completely different to Thinking, Fast and Slow – the name of the 2011 bestseller by psychologist Daniel Kahneman, who died in March. Kahneman cleverly divided the mind into two different kinds of thinking: System 1, which is fast and instinctive; System 2 is slow, meticulous and logical.
It’s all very well to be a genius thinker, using both systems. But genius thought is nothing if it isn’t turned into action pronto.
Some of the brightest people I’ve met are also the most useless at actually doing something with their genius thoughts. When I worked on the Daily Telegraph, I once commissioned a gifted classicist, the head of an Oxford college, to write a piece about the state of British universities.
I called him at 10 a.m. and asked him if he could get the 1,000-word piece to me by 5 p.m.
‘Oh, I’m so sorry’, the polite don said. ‘I can’t work that fast. I could certainly get it to you in three months.’
That don was very apologetic about his slowness. But the worst sort of clever people think there’s some virtue in being slow. Because they’re working on what they think of as a masterpiece, they ask for three extensions to their deadline. The best drives out the good.
I know journalists who can write 1,000 words in half an hour – and the article is as gripping as the ones by the academics who take three months to write about the same topic. In journalism, you’ve got to be better than someone who is faster than you; and faster than someone who is better than you.
You can see the division between fast- and slow-movers in every aspect of life. Take private enterprise on the internet: Amazon, say, which delivers to your door in an astonishingly quick time. Then compare that with anything to do with the government: a new driving licence, a new passport or useful new legislation – always agonisingly slow.
Narcissists will work at lightning speed to promote themselves – and drag their heels when it comes to doing something for anyone else
Uber is quick because you can see, at a glance on your phone, how long it’s taken you to get somewhere and the route they’ve taken. Black cabs are slow because the slower they go, the more they earn – and you don’t get an email showing you the tortuously elongated route they chose for you. The same selfish principle applies to the slowest creature on earth – the train-driver ambling down the platform to get into the cab of your delayed train.
Emails are a great diversionary device for slow-movers. They can say, ‘I’ll get back to you on that one’ or ‘I’ll have a think’ and know they need never do either. The superquick genius always prefers the phone to email – he gets an immediate response and doesn’t have to play email ping pong for weeks.
Quickness of action varies with different tasks. So narcissists will work at lightning speed to promote themselves – and drag their heels when it comes to doing something for anyone else.
‘Can you make it down to the TV studio to talk about yourself, Mr Shapps?’
‘Yes! I can be there in five minutes!’
‘Any chance you can pick up a pint of milk on the way, Mr Shapps?’
‘Afraid that might be a bit tricky.’
In the same way that narcissists tend to be late to meet you, they are slow to do things for you. Your time isn’t as important as theirs. Guilt, kindness and a conscience mean altruistic people tend to do things more quickly. Their fear of letting people down accelerates their actions.
We all have an individual, in-built level of speed – or slowness – for most tasks. Imagine you’ve got a tiny domestic task to do – let’s say the bulb that needs changing in the hall. The superquick change it without even thinking. The medium-quick leave it till they’ve come back to a dark hall several times. The terminally slow think, ‘Well, I’m only ever in the hall for two seconds at a time. I can get along without it.’
Speed of action doesn’t always relate to altruistic efficiency. No one walks quicker round London than poor benighted drug addicts tracking down their next fix.
Otherwise, though, if you can arrange your life only to deal with the quick people, life is heaven. Depending on the selfish snails is pure hell – in slow motion.
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