Squeal!

Multitasking

We’ve all heard it: the secret to success is multitasking.

Do more, simultaneously. Keep ahead. Get it all done.

But here’s the truth: humans can’t multitask.

We never could.

Sure, we can walk and breathe, or see and hear at the same time.

But we can’t process two separate streams of thought and act on both—at least, not well.

What we’re actually good at is fast switching.

It’s not that we’re juggling; we’re just flipping the ball from one hand to another fast enough to pretend we’re juggling.

Even when someone says, “I can listen to music and study at the same time,”—that only works if one of those things is in automatic mode. Once a lyric catches your ear, your train of thought jumps the track. You’re not studying anymore. You’re decoding poetry.

A drummer can tap two rhythms at once, but only after hours of training. One rhythm becomes a reflex while the other is freshly conscious. You’re not thinking both; you’re managing one and trusting the other.

Multitasking? More like multi-scheduling at high speed.

How Fast Are We, Really?

Most nerve signals travel at around .3 seconds from brain to fingertip.

Blinking takes about .1 seconds—faster, yes, but with a much shorter trip.

Now add in the thinking part:

Assessing. Calculating. Deciding.

That slows us down even more.

And that brings me to card games.

Squeal: A Game of Cards and Cognitive Collapse

My wife and I often play cards, usually with another couple.

And while the term “enjoy” still applies, I’d say it’s… unevenly distributed.

The game has evolved—from slow strategy and bidding to something more like a cognitive panic room.

Each player runs their own version of solitaire—turning over cards in threes, trying to build sequences.

That would be stressful enough. But there’s more.

In the center of the table are shared ace piles. Everyone can play on them, in order, as fast as possible. These piles are constantly shifting, and while I’m focused on my own cards, those central piles are racing ahead.

My brain is still looking for a two of clubs—

but the pile is already at seven.

What I need is no longer relevant.

But I’m still acting like it is.

ESP, Marriage, and Neural Delay

Now here’s where things get weird.

Sometimes my wife has a card poised in hand—

not moving, just waiting.

Then I make my play, and before I even finish, she slaps hers down.

How?

It’s not just that she’s faster.

She knows what I’m going to do before I do it.

She’s either reading my micro-expressions, or she’s crossed into the next dimension.

It’s unnerving.

It’s also glorious.

And it’s probably why we call the game Squeal.

Maybe because of the high-pitched joy of victory.

Or maybe because of the sound I make when I lose.

The Bottom Line

Can I walk and chew gum? Sure.

Can I play solitaire, rotate a deck three at a time, scan five ace piles in real time, and compete against someone with apparent precognitive abilities?

No. No, I cannot.

Multitasking?

Let’s just call it what it is:

high-speed, low-accuracy switching with frequent emotional consequences.