There is a step in the instructions. It is clearly numbered. It says something like "before proceeding to step four, ensure that component B is fully seated". You read it. You moved to step four. Component B was not fully seated. You are now forty minutes into a process that will require you to undo everything you have done since step three.
This happens across an extraordinary range of activities. Furniture assembly, software installation, recipe preparation, tax returns. The specific step varies. The outcome - skipping it, regretting it - does not. The instructions exist. The step is in them. The step gets skipped. The consequences follow.
Part of the explanation is cognitive. Reading instructions is a sequential task that runs at a different speed from doing the task. When you are reading, you are imagining doing. When you are doing, you are no longer reading - or you are reading one sentence ahead, which is a different thing. The mind is occupied with the physical action, and the instruction that looks obvious on the page becomes invisible in the flow of execution. You thought you had it. You did not quite have it.
There is also something happening with prediction. Humans are extremely good at pattern completion - so good that we frequently complete patterns that have not actually occurred yet. You read "ensure component B is fully seated" and your brain helpfully marks this as done, because it has already modelled doing it, and the model is vivid enough to feel like a memory. This is not laziness. It is an efficiency error: a system that normally serves you well has predicted ahead of the actual event.
Then there is optimism. Instructions warn against things that go wrong. If you have never done this particular thing and it has never gone wrong for you, the warnings carry less weight than they should. The person who wrote "do not skip this step" is speaking from experience. You are speaking from inexperience, which feels, from the inside, a lot like confidence.
The step will still be there next time. The instructions will still number it carefully. You will still skip it, briefly, and then - perhaps more quickly than last time - you will find your way back to it. This is called learning. It is a slow process. It goes better if you read the instructions first, but that has never been the appeal of the alternative.
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