July 2006
Confessions of a Multitasking Junkie
If You Can Read this in One Sitting,
You’re Probably Not Doing Enough
By Bob McCray
Thoreau said, “Simplify, simplify, simplify.” But these days, to hold a job you have to do 10 things at once. It’s called multitasking, the badge of honor of the techno-age.
At work that’s fine. At home, it’s no way to live, but not long ago — bringing my work habits home with me — I became a multitasking junkie. I couldn’t do one thing at a time. I had windows on the brain.
There are numerous studies on multitasking. A 2004 poll commissioned by Scientific American MIND reported that 90 percent of American adults multitask, and multitasking at home is also widespread.
Among other research, Doctors Joshua Rubinstein, Jeffrey Evans, and David Meyer at the University of Michigan studied the effects of multitasking and found that switching back and forth between complex tasks can take longer than doing one thing at a time.
At my previous association job, I was constantly multitasking. Besides writing publications, I’d be answering e-mails, faxes, and the telephone; developing budgets; editing manuscripts; eating lunch; drafting committee agendas; and 15 other things. It was exciting. I brought multitasking to my next job — teaching — and (by osmosis) home.
But after reading some research on multitasking, I checked my own lifestyle. I had clues I was going overboard. My wife said I was watching four TV programs at once using the remote.
One night, I was in the basement switching between fixing screens, laundry, painting a shelf, and gluing a teacup with instant, space-age glue. I glued my fingers together. I had to cut the skin to separate them.
Then one day, I was sweeping the front steps. I had just swept the back steps with a long-straw broom. But for the front steps, I used a short-bristle kitchen broom. With my mind preoccupied on six different projects, I swept down the whole stairway without hitting the steps — just batting the air. That did it.
Then I realized: at home, nobody was making me multitask. Parents (especially mothers), are notorious multitaskers, but our own kids are grown. Why do it? Especially if some say it can cause anxiety, stress, and impact short-term memory.
Of course spirituality, meditation, and “living in the moment” can quiet a racing mind, but while struggling with those, I decided to kick my multitasking habit, at least at home, and be a “one-thing-at-a-time” guy again. I gave myself a week, and taped an imaginary “No Multitasking Allowed” sign to my forehead. My diary:
Tuesday: I teach Tuesday, Wednesday night, and Thursday at community college. Time between classes is a multitasking maelstrom. I’m tutoring, grading exams, updating the class web site, checking verification forms, answering e-mail, reviewing new texts, photocopying, and 10 other things at once.
Photocopying class materials is the classic multitasking trap. My stack of originals morphs into a compost heap. But Tuesday, I made separate envelopes for each class, and photocopied and returned materials to each envelope. After that, I sailed through other tasks one at a time.
A survey commissioned by the American Dietetic Association (ADA) and ConAgra Foods Foundation found that 62 percent of Americans often eat standing up. I ate lunch sitting down, without working.
It turned out I don’t multitask in class. I list topics on the blackboard and mark check-off boxes.
When I do multitask, I risk my life. One time I was explaining “logo” to a class, and, at the same time, drawing the McDonald’s arches behind my back on the blackboard — a big, two-foot “M.” Suddenly, I noticed the women were covering their eyes, and the guys were shaking in their seats. When I turned around — no two ways about it — I’d drawn somebody’s rear end.
Another time, while double tasking, I mentioned a “Rolodex watch” instead of Rolex. Students were slapping their sides.
Tuesday turned into a one-thing-at-a-time day, and evening too. An ADA survey reported that 90 percent of Americans multitask while preparing meals, and that 91 percent watch TV while they eat. I didn’t do either. After dinner, the chores — dishes, the cats, the garbage, and freelance writing — went down one at a time.
Wednesday is multitasking chaos. It takes me hours to grade and plan lessons for Thursday’s classes. I usually spread four courses around the dining room table and work on them all at once, switching back and forth.
Wednesday, I put everything away except one course, and finished it. Looking organized made me feel organized — out of sight, out of mind.
Between courses, I did woodworking with my power tools. A table saw doesn’t lend itself to multitasking. You need total focus. You don’t want to try to slow down the saw blade with your hand when the phone rings.
One time, I was working on the table saw when my wife called me for supper — salmon almondine, a favorite dinner. It’s not good cold. In my concentration, I didn’t hear her. So she came downstairs, walked up behind me, and — because of the loud whine of the saw — whispered in my ear, “Dinner’s ready!” I jumped a foot and nearly cut my thumb off.
Thursday: I managed another solo-tasking teaching day, and evening.
Friday is my big attention-deficit-disorder day, scrambling to finish everything pre-weekend. But, methodically, I worked on each course in turn.
Friday is also my freelance writing day. I stack four writing projects on my desk, open four windows on the computer, and switch back and forth. That day — un par un.
Researchers speak of “brain overload” when a person does two tasks at once using the same part of the brain, and “switch-cost” (the time spent wondering “now, where was I?”) when someone switches back and forth between multiple tasks.
For writing, I use voice command software (microphone word processing), and I run into both problems. I can’t use voice command and talk with my wife simultaneously. When she calls from the basement and asks if I have clothes for the dark laundry, I forget to shut off the microphone, and shout, “My socks and underwear.” Two months later, it turns up in a short story, along with my conversation with the cats. Friday, I shut the door.
Saturday: “No multitasking allowed” is a given for running, kayaking, or skiing.
As a recreational skier, I can’t do email or lesson plans in my head and ski an icy trail. It’s pay attention or die.
Once on Aspen Mountain, I was swept away by a beautiful sunset. I slipped off trail into the powder, letting my skis go with the flow. While communing with the universe I caught a tip, somersaulted into a snowbank, and ripped the heel off my right boot, exposing ugly three-inch nails. That should have been my ankle that separated.
Sunday: I took off.
Monday: Kicking multitasking at home wasn’t hard. In one week, I was a born-again unitasker. I won’t go back. As Albert Einstein said, “I believe that a simple and unassuming manner of life is best for everyone, best for both the body and mind.”
Bob McCray, a teacher and writer who lives with his wife in Evanston, has been on a multitasking diet since his New Year’s resolution in January, and by now is a confirmed believer in the simple life.
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