An Open Letter to Multitasking Man

Concert Goer Group Therapy An Open Letter to Technology

An Open Letter to Multitasking Man

Dear Multitasking Man:

Three nights out of seven (five during Nutcracker season) I drive my two ballerinas down the winding, sloping streets of our neighborhood to their dance studio at precisely 5:50 pm. Which is the same time that you are out on the street taking a walk with your baby in your front carrier.

While walking your dog.
While watching your cellphone, with your earbuds in.

I’m not talking about a quick downward glance at your phone to read a text or check the Warriors score. You have your head buried in that phone like you are watching the Hardhome episode of Game of Thrones. The big reveal of The Crying Game. The part of The Sixth Sense when we finally understand what’s up with Bruce Willis. The point is, you are serious, and your head is cranked down and riveted to that tiny screen.

Meaning that the baby on board and the dog ambling at your feet are getting about as much attention from you as the lady in the car swooping past saying, “DUDE: pick two out of three!”

I mean, it’s great that you’re multitasking and all, by which I mean you are doing three things badly. Science bears this out: a Forbes article says, “A study at the University of London found that participants who multitasked during cognitive tasks experienced IQ score declines that were similar to what they’d expect if they had smoked marijuana or stayed up all night. IQ drops of 15 points for multitasking men lowered their scores to the average range of an 8-year-old child.”

Would you let a stoned eight-year-old strap a baby on his chest, grab the dog’s leash and his Game Boy and hit the road – a road with hairpin turns and without sidewalks?

I keep thinking of your wife, the one who probably comes home from work at 6:30 to a husband who says, “I’ve walked the dog, taken the baby for a walk, and finished watching The Making of a Murderer!” She probably says to herself, “He’s a marvel! How does he get it all done?” She needs to ask that second question a couple more times, with a couple different intonations, and start connecting some dots.

The “Pick two out of three!” line has become our standard salute as we drive past you each evening.

But then Daylight Savings happened. Last week, I almost took your whole multitasking unit out with the station wagon as we came around one of the sharper corners, because now, on top of the aforementioned three tasks:

You’re walking in the dark.
Wearing all black.

Mr. Multitasking Man, for the sake of the risk to your iPhone, if not to the baby and the dog:

PICK THREE OUT OF FIVE.

Sincerely,

Your Concerned Neighbor