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Why "Making a Sandwich" Isn't Just One Step: The Hidden Code of ADHD

  • Feb 9
  • 3 min read
How many steps to make a sandwich? Photo by Photo by Giorgio Trovato on Unsplash.
How many steps to make a sandwich? Photo by Photo by Giorgio Trovato on Unsplash.

I love the way a perfectly timed metaphor can suddenly make a complex, messy feeling feel manageable. In my coaching practice, analogies are often the bridge we build together to cross the gap between "I feel stuck" and "I finally understand why".


Recently, I’ve been playing with a metaphor to help explain something that often feels invisible: the sheer cognitive effort of task initiation and planning for an ADHD brain. It’s a concept I’ve been using to help my clients (and myself) unlearn the shame of "making things harder than they need to be". And it all starts with an exercise that’s commonly used to explain coding to kids.


The robot and the peanut butter

If you haven't seen the Robot Sandwich exercise, the premise is simple: An adult pretends to be a robot, and the kids provide the "code" to get the robot to make a peanut butter and jam sandwich.


Inevitably, a kid will say, "Okay, put the peanut butter on the bread." The robot adult then takes the entire, unopened jar and sits it directly on top of the plastic-wrapped loaf of bread. The kids laugh, realize their mistake, and try again. "No! Open the bag and take out two slices." But they forget to tell the robot to put the slices on a plate, so the robot ends up holding two pieces of bread in the air.


By the time they successfully get a sandwich made, the instructions are fifty steps long. They have to specify twisting open the lid of the peanut butter, using the flat side of the knife to spread things, and the exact placement of the bread. It’s a hilarious lesson in just how much we take for granted in our daily processing.


The "auto-complete" function


The human brain is an incredible machine. For many people, the instruction "go make lunch" is processed as a single, fluid command. The prerequisites (finding a clean knife, checking if there’s bread, deciding on a filling) are handled by the brain’s auto-complete function. You don't see the code; you just see the sandwich.


But for those of us with ADHD, that auto-complete doesn't always kick in. When an ADHD brain hears "make a sandwich," it doesn't hear one step. It often pictures the entire, fifty-line script required for the robot.


Why the code feels so heavy


This is where the misconception of laziness or lack of motivation usually creeps in. If you ask a child to go make lunch, and ten minutes later you find them reading a book or eating a bag of chips, it’s easy to assume they just didn't listen.


From a coaching perspective, I see something different. I see a brain that looked at the "make a sandwich" script, saw the sheer volume of processing power required to sequence those fifty steps, and simply stalled out. Task initiation isn't just about doing the thing. It’s about the energy required to load the instructions for the thing.


The bag of chips isn't a lazy choice. It’s a one-step choice. It’s a way for a tired or overwhelmed brain to meet a need without having to run a complex program.


Unlearning the "simple" task


I am still in the process of unlearning my own assumptions about what a supposedly simple task looks like. Whether it’s starting a project for work or just clearing the kitchen counter, I’m learning to be kinder to myself when my robot code feels particularly long that day.


If you have ADHD, you’ve likely spent years internalizing the idea that you’re making things harder than they need to be. The truth is, your brain is simply doing more manual processing than the person next to you. You aren't failing at a simple task. You’re managing a complex one.


What is one simple task in your life right now that actually feels like fifty steps? What would change for you to acknowledge the extra processing power you're using, rather than judging yourself for the delay?


Navigating the manual code of your brain is something we can explore together through coaching. If you’re looking for a partner to help you recognize and adapt to these hidden hurdles, book a Discovery Call and let’s chat.

 
 
 

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Hi.
I'm Sarah-Beth

I'm a coach, a connector, a person who bikes, a mom and wife and friend and daughter, a caregiver by nature, a reader and a sewist. I am delighted and motivated by making connections with others, which is why coaching is such a fulfilling chapter in my story.

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Sarah-Beth Bianchi Coaching is based in Kitchener, Ontario. I acknowledge that the land on which I live and work is on the Haldimand Tract within the traditional territory of the Neutral, Anishinaabe and Haudenosaunee peoples. I honour the ongoing contributions of Indigenous people who have been living on this land and stewards of this land since time immemorial. As a beneficiary of this land, I take responsibility to acknowledge its history and the ongoing legacy of colonization and I commit to holding myself accountable to the continuous work of decolonization.

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