(FORTUNE Small Business) – Gut-level decision-maker. That was me. When I joined my family's plastic-bag-manufacturing company seven years ago, the method worked. I rebuilt our potato-packaging business by launching a price war against our main competitor—and without first running profit projections or consulting anyone with broader experience. Despite our insurer's objections, I initiated a generous safety-incentive program that saved us thousands of dollars in annual premiums.

Then came the decisions I had to make on software. Six years ago I teamed with a local programmer to build a system for our company. I knew we needed software to help our customer-service reps get information quickly. We also had to generate sales and production reports faster. I pushed the project through in six months. The result? A slow system that didn't help us much. Next I plunked down $70,000 for software designed specifically for our industry. That product ended up being too complicated for a business of our size.

I reacted to my sorry software choices by agonizing over every decision. I spent months noodling over which eight-color printing press to buy. I flew to Germany and Spain for print trials, talked to references, and drew and redrew lists of pros and cons. One manager grew so frustrated that he quit, announcing that our failure to buy the press would doom the company.

Later I tried to blame the unhappy results of my choices on the law of unintended consequences. And, I rationalized, those consequences weren't always bad. Four years ago I had pushed for us to pioneer a way to pack cherries. Today we dominate the market for machine-packed two-pound bags, a market that is doubling annually. We never imagined such growth—or the chaos that the short season imposes on us—when we risked entering that market.

Still, over the past year I've come to accept that my trigger-happy decision-making style is a net negative for my business. What works best for me isn't much different from what most people do: seeking advice, weighing what information I have, then choosing. So much for the seat-of-the-pants style that is supposed to characterize real entrepreneurs. I do think my new approach has made me a more effective leader. A few months back my company debated buying another printing press. This time I gathered our management team for a vote on whether we needed it. When they insisted we did, I sent our plant manager to Spain for a print trial, talked to some references, and made a list of pros and cons. Then, within a week, I gave the go-ahead.

Using the expertise of others has proved key. We're again looking to buy a new software system. Given my poor track record, I've passed oversight to an operations consultant who knows how to manage big projects. I'll make the final decision, but he's pulling together the vendors and a team to vet them. He has made sure we have the right people involved—something I neglected to do last time, when, for instance, I failed to include our accountant.

Big decisions like this one keep me up at night. In that way, I think I am like most entrepreneurs. We are not business machines, making choices and moving on. We worry about our businesses and the impact our decisions could have. But I feel comfortable with the road I'm taking. I may end up regretting some moves, but I'll feel better about how I got there.