Choosing for the table

We’ve been staring at the menu for what feels like an hour. I just checked the time on my phone, and it’s only been twelve minutes. Everyone’s waiting for someone else to decide first.

The weight of the deciding vote

Someone nominated me to pick. It felt like a trap. I could feel the silent pressure, the unspoken hope that I’d just pick something so we could all move on. But what if I pick the wrong thing? What if the pasta is too heavy, or the salad is too boring?My mind started racing through every review I’d ever skimmed. I was trying to remember if anyone had mentioned the sauce being too salty. It was ridiculous, but the table had gone quiet.

Handing it over to chance

That’s when I saw the little spinner on my phone. A silly little digital wheel. I typed in the options we’d all vaguely agreed were acceptable. It felt like a surrender, but a peaceful one.I wasn’t choosing anymore. I was just executing. The responsibility evaporated. I showed the screen to the group. "We’re letting this decide." There was a collective, almost relieved, sigh.

The spin itself

I tapped the screen. We all watched the colored blur slow down, landing on a choice none of us had passionately argued for.

The quiet after

No one complained. We just gave our orders to the waiter. The mental static just… stopped.