More than time

A year or so back, one of my friends at work was reprimanded by her boss for wearing a watch to a meeting with clients that was not professional enough. Now I do agree with the idea that, especially in consulting, you need to project an image of competence and success. After all, your client needs to be comfortable in spending lots of money to basically just get your advice. If you look like a disaster, you may undermine your ability to gain their confidence. But I'm not sure wearing a sport watch instead of a Tag Heuer is going to play much of a role in such image-building.

On this note, I recently read an article about Treasury Secretary Hank Paulson in Newsweek and found the following sentence particularly interesting:

"Paulson adheres tightly to the Goldman ethos: Make enormous amounts of money but don't act like it (though Paulson's stake in the firm was worth about $500 million when he cashed out in 2006, he wears a digital training watch, not a Rolex)."

So here is at least one example of success being projected without the assistance of a fancy watch. Although I do wonder if this is really some sort of psychological ploy by Paulson and his Goldman compatriots. By wearing a $50 Timex, instead of a $20,000 Tag Heuer, isn't he almost bringing more attention to his watch choice because he picked the unexpected for someone of his vast wealth and stature? He is almost making more of the point that he in fact can very easily make the choice to wear an outrageously expensive watch, or not.

Then again, I often think about these things far too much. Either way, friend, the next time someone criticizes your watch, just point out Paulson's selection.

Taking Trebek to School

I love it when I get to the gym around 7PM. It means I get to watch Jeopardy! (Seriously, I get excited). But this evening was extra fun, for the following reason:

Tonight, as I was watching Double Jeopardy (you know, round two, when all the dollar amounts are doubled), all three players got the same $2,000 question wrong. Trebek remarked, "No harm done. You all got it wrong and lost the same amount of money." But, sir, I object! This is not necessarily the case, especially late in the Double Jeopardy round.

Do you see why Trebek is in fact wrong that no harm was done? Let me pose a simple example. Let's say there are only two players, Sean Connery and Burt Reynolds. They have come to the very last question in Double Jeopardy, which is worth $2,000. Sean Connery has $20,000 and Burt Reynolds has $10,500. If both players answer this question incorrectly and each lose $2,000, Connery will have $18,000, and Reynolds will have $8,500.

If neither player had answered the question, Connery would have had to bet $1,001 in Final Jeopardy to guarantee that he would win, earning a total of $21,001. This is because, if Connery bet nothing, and Reynolds bet everything, Reynolds would win with $21,000. But after both players got the final $2,000 question wrong, even if Reynolds bets everything and gets Final Jeopardy right, he will only have $17,000, which is short of the $18,000 Connery has. In other words, Connery can simply bet nothing and win the game straight up.

So, Trebek, what you have claimed is in fact erroneous. Losing the $2,000 can have a different impact on each player and can in fact completely change the dynamic of the game. I think a fictionalized Sean Connery said it best.

Singles and socks

Have you ever been putting away your socks to realize that one of the socks is missing its mate? I'm sure you must have - socks are always mysteriously disappearing, or getting left in suitcases, or falling behind things. I have a lot of different socks, so it is usually quite apparent which sock has lost its partner (as opposed to having a lot of similar white socks for instance, in which case it would be difficult to identify which particular sock has been left single, instead having simply an odd number of similar looking socks).

When this happens, and it is quite a common occurrence, I often feel some regret or a pang of sadness. See, at the forefront of my mind is the realization that this sock will not be returned to its partner or worn again until the next wash cycle. And that assumes I can find the lost soul before I wash my socks again; if I cannot, who knows when these socks will be reunited and my feet can enjoy their cozy comfort.

I'd like to cast this as being disappointed at not being able to wear a pair of socks I like, but I think I must admit I'm also feeling a little sorry for that lonely sock, but that would be absurd, right?

A myth

The other day I was visiting my cousin and her new husband, and we decided it would be fun to play some Wii. First I played her husband in Wii golf and beat him handily in a 9-hole round (somehow managing 2 eagles in the process). Then I play my cousin in bowling. We tied the first game, so we played a second, that I won, but only by a thin margin.

Still, what was strange to me was that I had beaten them both. I have only played Wii a few times, and for the most part have sworn off video games altogether. They both seemed a little surprised, and probably a bit frustrated as well. I think truly I just got lucky. But then I started to think about my situation and mythology...

I imagined a curse that I think would make the ancient Greeks proud. Imagine a man who was incredibly talented and lucky. Everything he did he succeeded at, every competition he entered he won. He could have everything he wanted. Except one thing. He could not have the one thing he treasured above all else, his deepest and most passionate desire. Imagine it! Everything at your fingertips, but unable to have what you most want. Even the greatest of things would begin to become a cruel joke because the one thing desired more than it all would continue to be illusive. Soon the greatest victory would be overshadowed by bitterness of defeat at what mattered the most.

And then I was reminded of some lyrics from one of my favorite Nickel Creek songs:

I hope he still wants it, but it might remind him of when,
he aimed for the bulls eye and hit it nine times out of ten.
That one time his hand slipped, and I saw the dart sail away.
I don't know where it landed, but I'm guessing between green and gray.
We thought nothing of it, but it still haunts him like a ghost.
With all eyes upon him, except two that matter the most.

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Now playing: Nickel Creek - Green And Gray
via FoxyTunes