There's a special kind of torture in asking a simple question and getting someone's entire life story in return. Inside my ADHD brain, I've already connected the dots, made the decision, and moved on. So please, for the love of everyone's time, get to the fucking point.
There’s a special kind of irritation that comes from asking someone a simple question and receiving a documentary in return. Complete with backstory, supporting characters, unnecessary plot twists, and a conclusion that should have arrived ten minutes ago.
Welcome to my ADHD brain. Please get to the fucking point.
I’ve noticed that people tend to mistake my impatience for arrogance. Sometimes rudeness. And I can understand why. When someone is halfway through explaining something and I interrupt with, “Okay, so are we doing this or not?”, it’s probably not my finest moment in interpersonal diplomacy. But here’s the thing. I wasn’t asking for the history of how we arrived at this particular crossroads. I was asking which bloody road we’re taking.
My brain has probably already figured out where you’re going with this. I’ve connected the dots, considered the possibilities, and mentally moved on to what needs to happen next. Meanwhile, you’re still explaining dot number two. It’s not that I think I’m smarter than you. I just don’t need you to narrate the journey when I can already see the destination.
And when I can’t interrupt, which is usually when I’m dealing with someone I need to be particularly diplomatic with, I do something arguably worse. I check out. Not because I don’t care, but because listening to another five minutes of information I don’t need feels like making my brain run a marathon in formal shoes.
Now, don’t misunderstand me. I fucking love details. Give me a complicated subject, an interesting problem, or something genuinely worth dissecting, and I’ll happily disappear down that rabbit hole with you. My ADHD brain practically throws a party when there’s something new to learn. I’ll ask questions you probably never anticipated and get excited about things most sensible adults would find painfully boring.
But there’s a difference between explaining something and overexplaining it. Context is useful when context is required. A story is wonderful when someone has asked for one. If I’ve asked whether we’re meeting at three or four, however, I don’t need to know what happened to your grandmother in 1987.
Three or four. Pick one.
We make dozens of decisions every day. Some important, some utterly mundane. And every one of them consumes a little time and mental energy. I’ve always believed that good communication means understanding what someone is asking and giving them the information they need to move forward. Not everything you know about the subject. Just what they need.
Perhaps that’s why I find American Senate hearings so fascinating. Someone asks a perfectly straightforward question and the person answering somehow delivers a five-minute speech without answering a goddamn thing. It’s almost an art form.
So here’s my modest request. If I ask a question, answer it. If I need more information, trust me, I’ll ask.
And if you’re wondering whether this entire essay could have been reduced to three words?
Yes. It could.
Get. To. The. Point.