Lost in the (Math) Translation

When I was in the sixth grade, I had a traumatic math class which ruined math for me. Forever.

Oh, I can add, subtract, multiply, and divide; I am very, very good with geometry proofs, and I can balance an algebraic equation like nobody's business. But when numbers start creeping into trigonometry or, heaven forbid, WORD PROBLEMS with train schedules and miles per hour ... well, my mind shuts down. Literally. 

Everyone knows this about me -- my family, my friends, the entire blogosphere. I am not good in math,  which is why the fact that Joe is SUPER in math made the Top Five list of reasons why I married him. He is my Knight in Shining Math Armor and repeatedly saves the day when the Math Dragon breathes its deadly fire. 

(And if something happens to my Knight in Shining Armor, Son #2 is an accountant and will take over duties.)

Most of the time I live in a happy cloud of math ignorance, but sometimes reality rears its ugly head.

This evening Timothy came home from a 7-hour shift at Publix and told us how someone tried to pull a fast one on him with a $100 bill. It was a complicated con, and while Joe immediately got it, I had no clue.

"The problem is you are too nice," said Timothy helpfully. "You would give the person the benefit of the doubt."

So they explained it again and looked at me expectantly. I still did not get; in fact, I was thoroughly confused, but I nonetheless nodded my head like I understood.

This is called Self Preservation. It's a survival tool. 

But my guys were on to me, so after dinner Timothy pulled out the Monopoly money and reconstructed events. He was the cashier, I was the bad guy with the $100 bill. The first time through I still did not understand, and Timothy and I were laughing so hard I had to leave our pretend Publix and run to the bathroom. Joe was exasperated. 

Okay. Time to get serious. We reconstructed events for the fifth time (or maybe the sixth, but who is counting?) (remember, math issues).

This time, Timothy and I switched roles. He was now the bad guy and I was the cashier. 

And ALLELUIA ... I saw the light.

While I was astounded that a person could think of such a complicated con, mostly I was proud that my guy caught him in the act. 

Of course,  when I sat down to write this post I had every intention of describing each and every step of this diabolical con, but the minute I started putting it into words it got lost in the translation. 

Math. It's just not my thing.