Part 3: The girls turn—Ad Victorem
ire spolia
There are several ways to exact
penalties on individuals for non-compliant behavior. I know that
phrase sounds weirdly apocalyptic, one-world-government-ish, and
Orwellian, but stick with it. One way this often plays out is that,
financially, you can place a penalty on people for illegal behavior.
Speeding tickets, improper building permits, testing U.S. Military
prototypes in public waters without proper consultation of the Coast
Guard, blowing up a port-a-potty, treating patients in a hospital
without being a licensed "doctor", and making fun of the
defendant while seated in the jury pool are all things I may or may
not have been threatened with a fine for doing.
Financially, stiff penalties are a way
to get people to comply with the rules and not speed through a
construction zone, to wear a life jacket, to dot your i's and cross
your t's on all your paperwork, or to not tell the defendant during
jury selection he deserves to go to jail for being too stupid enough
to delete incriminating text messages on his phone.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch
orphanage, after playing our imaginary potluck game with the boys, it
was time to play the game again, but this time with the girls. When I
played with the boys, they went and told the girls the strategy to
win, and I was quietly pleased that both genders had inferred that
the object of the game was to finish with the most money—that if
"To the victor go the spoils" holds true, then conversely
the one with the most spoils must be The Victor. This is just another
absurd premise I was in the process of breaking down during that day.
The second time through the game
started much like the first. I was playing along as well. Having
figured out how the game was played, the first round (week one of the
potluck) each of the girls secretly wrote down her contribution and
turned it over to me to tally. Much to nobody's surprise, not a
single person gave any amount towards our "public good".
The only person to give was me. That is to say, everybody showed up
to the potluck with empty hands as we divided up my chili con
carne, giving each one an equal, tiny portion.
However—here is the big shocking
twist that absolutely nobody saw coming—after collecting
everybody's (non-existent) contributions, I announced that anybody
not giving the minimum amount would be fined $20 (an amount that
would not count towards the group fund). That is to say, in our
church potluck example, we you charged people who brought nothing
with a price well exceeding the cost of furnishing your own meal, and
then the money went to the missionary relief fund to support the
starving kids in Africa rather than buying more food for the potluck.
So, fancy math aside, the girls were
all fined and my $10 was meted out to all the players, each of whom
received a lonely dollar in return. After the first round I stood
with more money in my pocket than all the other girls. Silent,
stunned faces surrounded me. It literally took about four minutes for
this all to sink in. "So I didn't give anything. And now you're
fining me? And now I have less than when I started? And you still
have more? The first game you didn't give anything. Why didn't you
get fined then? What do you mean the first game was different? Can we
start this game over now that we all know? Let's just do that, all
start fresh brand new. Can we do that? Why are you laughing? Laughing
is not an answer."
Was it unfair to not announce that
there would be penalties levied on those who didn't give? Maybe. Was
I skewing the game to my advantage? Maybe. Was I doing it to teach a
point? Yes.
After everybody calmed down a little
bit, the second round of our game found everybody writing down their
contributions. To absolutely nobodies surprise, everybody gave
exactly the minimum amount of $10 and therefore received an equal
portion of $10 in return. Everybody, when doing this finishes right
where they started and neither gain nor lose money. Because of the
first round and not being penalized I had more money and was
therefore deemed to still be in the lead.
At this point there was a little
consternation from the players. After much head scratching, we
continued with the third round of the game. All of the girls, and
myself, gave their minimum contribution of $10. The money was divided
and returned and everyone else found themselves exactly where they
started, with less money than me. This would be like if the third
week of the church potluck the theme was italian and everybody
brought the identical spaghetti and meatballs and the people who
didn't bring money that first week are shocked and upset to discover
that all the money they coughed up the first week wouldn't be
returned to them now that they were contributing.
At this point, three or so of the girls
became visibly upset. They asked to stop the game and asked me point
blank if there was any way for them to get more money than me. There
wasn't. They began to cry foul and say I twisted the game to my
advantage (not true, but not...untrue). They threw their hands up and
left the game declaring if they couldn't beat me there weren't going
to play.
With that, the game ended as the other
players simply asked if, knowing what everyone was going to
contribute the next time if they even needed to bother playing
because it wouldn't change the amount each person was left with.
After most of the girls left the game, several that stayed asked how
they could have won.
We played a new game from scratch
between the three of us just to see. As we played it and everyone
gave the same, minimum amount all the players finished with the same
balance and nobody had any more or any less money than anybody else.
This led the girls (and several of the boys still watching) to say
that there was no way to win because everyone has the same amount.
Rather than challenging them on what
the objective of the game was in order for someone to have won, I
asked a far more fundamental question: in order for someone to win,
does another have to lose?
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