I’m Not Good At Multitasking — And Neither Are You

Or at least you probably shouldn’t be…

I’m not sure when multitasking came into vogue. It sounds like the kind of thing that would have been big in the 1990s — an energized period when people were working a lot and it seemed like efforts generally met with rewards. If you had to do more, and that required divided attention, that seemed okay.

The endless profits of the nineties dissipated in the oughties and beyond, but the expectation that folks would be putting in a lot of effort remained. Multitasking, whatever its origin, remains as well, although I think the pandemic may have slowed things down.

For those who want a definition, multitasking is the capacity to do two or more things at the same time. We should remember that whatever its application to human activity, multitasking is concept that was originally applied to computers. A computer’s ability to process multiple streams of data are one thing, but we shouldn’t assume that humans work the same way as a computer.

Across the domains of work, personal relationships, and domestic responsibilities, to name a few contexts, there are different types of multitasking.

Sometimes, you’re really split between two equally demanding tasks, and have to shuttle back and forth between them rapidly. Let’s say you have to answer an email at the same time you’re talking to a coworker, or cooking dinner while helping your child with their homework. The problem with this kind of multitasking is that you may not be able to devote adequate attention to either task, so that you send a shoddy email, or do less than precise long division (and/or burn dinner).

At other times, the tasks have different loads on them. Maybe you’re on the phone with a client (a high-demand task) while keeping your eye on a data stream on your computer, like the price of corn. Or you could be stir-frying tofu while looking out for the water to boil so you can put in the noodles. As long as the low-demand task doesn’t cross the threshold that demands action, you can focus most — but not all — of your attention on the high-demand task.

Then there’s the double low-demand multitask, like eating and talking. These are easy to do, as at least one task is or can be semi-automatic, and the other is usually fairly inconsequential. Of course, if you’re on a date and need to impress the other person or at a business lunch and trying to close a deal, talking might be a high-demand task. But you get the idea.

Driving and talking are an interesting combination. When you have a passenger in the car with you, driving is the primary activity, and you can devote the appropriate amount of energy to it. When talking on a phone, however, your attention tends to be more evenly divided, and you might even place the priority on the conversation, as driving can become a fairly automated task (at least until a novel stimulus introduces itself). Although legally we’ve emphasized using hands-free phones, I don’t think that it makes that much difference. I can drive and talk to a passenger in the car while holding a cup of coffee or having my arm on the window and I feel I do a better job of it than when I’m on a hands-free phone.

Of course, some folks are texting while driving, and if talking on the phone wasn’t bad enough, now they’re typing.

Anyway, there are different contexts and demands for multitasking, and people vary in their ability to manage the various scenarios of high and low demand tasks. But that’s not the point.

The point is that we should try to minimize multitasking, because it is the very antithesis of mindfulness — most of the time. When you’re answering an email and talking to a coworker, odds are one of them will get less than your optimal response.

If you’re eating and having a conversation, you’re going to be getting a double hit of ‘happy neurotransmitters’, as both getting nutrition and socializing trigger them. But the odds are very strong that you won’t really be able to taste your food: you know it’s there and it’s sweet or salty or whatever, but you aren’t really appreciating it. I can compose most of this Medium article in the shower, and while I’ll make sure everything is clean, I won’t really be savoring the warm water pouring onto my body or the vibrant citrus smell of the shower gel.

The Zen saying, “when you eat, just eat” applies to everything. Be mindful of what you’re doing, or at least try to be. Rather than celebrating your multitasking abilities, attempt to do one thing at a time, really well and really attentively.

I’m not suggesting you take all of your meals in silence, and I enjoy dinners out with friends quite a bit. But I try to focus on individual activities. For example, I listen to music a great deal, yet I rarely listen when I’m doing anything else. In the car, on a walk, or working, the music is rarely on (okay, as I’ve said in a previous article, I often chant while driving and walking, but that’s to prevent the omnipresent other-task of internal chattering).

Even if you take just devote your attention to eating for one meal per day, that’s great. If you can focus on the activity while you’re vacuuming the living room, that’s heroic in terms of mindfulness. If you can stop and listen to one song without sending a text message, you’re really on your way.

Cooking, by the way, is one of many paradoxes in the whole multitasking domain. Indeed, you often have to do many things at once in order to land a meal at the right time. That could involve having several pots going on the stove while periodically checking the oven. In this case, devoting yourself to several smaller tasks actually helps you to stay present with the larger task of cooking.

That sort of thing can get you into a flow state, where you’re totally absorbed in the activity and in a sense transcend yourself. Because you have so much to attend to, your usual sense of self and your identifications with your verbal mind start to fall into the background.

Now, if cooking can do that, how great would it be if it happened when you were eating?