as featured in Desert Exposure Magazine
Last year, my then five-year-old granddaughter came up with a math theorem that was elegant in its simplicity:
10 = 10.
I was playfully showing her math equations on my phone’s calculator, mainly adding ridiculously long numbers together, when she snatched it from my hand and taught me this important lesson: Everything Equals Itself.
It’s an obvious concept, but not one that I’ve ever seen or heard expressed before. It was an original idea, and I’m a sucker for original ideas. The brilliance of her smile showed just how proud she was of her theorem. So proud she repeated it for me again and again.
On the other hand, my elderly father is losing his relationship with numbers and their value. When I take him to the doctor, the receptionist will say, “Your co-pay is...”
“Pay it,” he’ll tell me.
I often wonder what kind of math they teach in schools these days. A bad math, I reckon. Two plus two equals four if you’re a racing enthusiast, five if you’re not.
I'm being unfair, I know. Teaching is a two-way street. There's the teaching part, then there's the learning part. Einstein could be your teacher, but if you refuse to learn, then you might as well let him choose your hairstyle.
I was at a restaurant the other day. The total was $9.73. I gave the cashier, who had been my waitress, a ten. As she put the bill in the cash drawer, I handed her 73 cents. She looked unsure for a second, put the coins in the drawer, and then tried to hand me back 27 cents. I didn't take it.
"It’s a dollar," I told her.
"What?"
"I should get a dollar back."
"The total was $9.73," she told me.
"Yes, but I gave you a 10-dollar bill and then 73 cents in change."
She tried to remember. Looked at the register for help. It didn't give her any, so I stepped in.
"I gave you a 10-dollar bill and then 73 cents in change," I repeated, "so I should get a dollar back."
She wasn't convinced.
"I first gave you a ten," I re-repeated, "and then I gave you 73 cents, so my change is a dollar."
The problem was she let the cash register do the math for her. The total was $9.73. When I handed over the ten, THAT’S what she entered into the machine. Even though I handed over an additional 73 cents, the magic box told her she only owed me 27 cents.
She finally broke down and handed me a dollar, but I think she was just tired of arguing. Did I think she was trying to cheat me? Not really. She had just been depending on the cash register for way too long.
She was surprised when I gave her a 5-dollar tip. The waitresses here are sweet, the food is good, and times have been hard. It was the least I could do.
From there, I drove to a fast food joint. I lost the sleeve to a gift card I bought and needed to get another. There was no dine-in eating, so I waited behind several cars before making it to the drive-through speaker.
"Rack-dack-ork?" the speaker said.
"Excuse me?" I answered.
"May I help you?" the speaker said again, this time in English.
"Yes," I said. "Your dine-in is closed and I need to get a sleeve for a gift card I have."
"Sorry, but our dine-in is closed. May I help you?"
"I lost the sleeve to a gift card and wanted to get another."
"A sleeve?"
"Yes."
"What's a sleeve?"
"It's the envelope gift cards come in."
"Oh, you don't need an envelope," the speaker informed me. "All you need is the gift card. It has a little magnetic strip on the back that we scan."
Oh.
Now I'M the stupid one.
"I bought this card as a gift," I explained to her, "and lost the sleeve it came in. I’d like to get another one."
"Sorry, but we don't have envelopes for gift cards."
"That's funny, because, when I bought this one, they gave me one with it."
"I don't know what to tell you, sir,” the speaker said, caught in a lie and doubling down. “We don't have envelopes for our gift cards."
"Thanks for your trouble," I told the speaker.
I've learned in life it's better to be polite. There's a better chance you'll make the other person feel bad.
So I drove away. Kind of irritated, but what could I do?
I needed gas.
There's a convenience store I go to that has the best prices. I can understand why the price of gasoline fluctuates on a daily basis, but I don't know why it fluctuates from gas station to gas station.
I pulled up to the pumps. Got out of my car. Pulled the debit card out of my wallet the way a magician pulls a rabbit out of his hat. Inserted it into the slot. It didn't work. "See cashier," the screen told me.
I got into my car and drove away,
If I wanted to see the cashier I wouldn’t have used my debit card.
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Thanks to everyone who sent me their “butterfly dreams” (May 2021).
@JimDuchene
