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Pay attention, Chaps
Wednesday, October 13th, 2004 04:21 amSometimes it only takes the simplest and most innocent sounding of questions to drop you suddenly and unsuspectingly into a scenario where you are hopelessly out of your depth.
And you know it.
This morning I was sitting at my desk, cheerfully composing a rude chivvy up email to the delegates for our regular housing finance group when the seemingly innocent question landed from off field from Tom, my colleague.
"Bryan" says he, "How is your basic maths?"
Now really this should have rung alarm bells, but I was busy thinking up ways of being politely rude to people, and it slipped in under my guard.
"Er… reasonable," I replied, thinking lofty thoughts such as 2+2 = 5 and such.
I am then presented with the question, "Can you see why these two (equations) don't balance, I should be able to do this, but I can't see it." And I am presented with a piece of paper covered in scribbles which include fabulous arcane symbols but no numbers:
Σђ-η√Θ
--------
×2
Not that, but that sort of thing. You know, the type of equation that instantly makes you shed a million years of evolution and try to climb a tree.
Which is awkward in an office. Especially for a fatty who smokes, like me.
I should point out that Tom is an economist, so I doubt his connection to reality is strong enough to have registered the panic I was feeling, so I calmly ran a pen top across the various parts of the equation as if comparing functions, and made the occasional Aha! and harumph sounds before returning it to him with a sad shake of the head.
I think he's still working on it, but it is something to think about, the fact that his idea of basic maths and mine differ so much. I can just about cope with numbers, but something that looks like Cthulu's signature just leaves me frozen in terror.
You have to remember that when I was doing my degree, all those years ago, I specialised in an option that ditched maths as soon as possible. To this day, I am eternally grateful that the first year maths re-sit included loads of questions on matrices. I could solve them. I didn't know what I'd achieved by solving them, but I could do them. In my first year maths mid-sessional by contrast, I achieved a sort of cult status amongst my compadrés by achieving a magnificent 5%, of which 1% was awarded for artistic interpretation (I kid you not). I was awarded 4% for my mathematical ability, and an extra percentage point for the drawing of a tombstone in the margin, with the legend, "RIP Maths."
So no. My knowledge of basic maths is not good. The trick is to pay attention to questions, and try not to confuse the terms maths and arithmatic.
Better still, climb a tree and squeal Oook, oook at the world.
The email to the housing finance group delegates, by contrast, was a masterpiece of thinly veiled venom and loathing, by the way. I was very pleased.
And you know it.
This morning I was sitting at my desk, cheerfully composing a rude chivvy up email to the delegates for our regular housing finance group when the seemingly innocent question landed from off field from Tom, my colleague.
"Bryan" says he, "How is your basic maths?"
Now really this should have rung alarm bells, but I was busy thinking up ways of being politely rude to people, and it slipped in under my guard.
"Er… reasonable," I replied, thinking lofty thoughts such as 2+2 = 5 and such.
I am then presented with the question, "Can you see why these two (equations) don't balance, I should be able to do this, but I can't see it." And I am presented with a piece of paper covered in scribbles which include fabulous arcane symbols but no numbers:
--------
×2
Not that, but that sort of thing. You know, the type of equation that instantly makes you shed a million years of evolution and try to climb a tree.
Which is awkward in an office. Especially for a fatty who smokes, like me.
I should point out that Tom is an economist, so I doubt his connection to reality is strong enough to have registered the panic I was feeling, so I calmly ran a pen top across the various parts of the equation as if comparing functions, and made the occasional Aha! and harumph sounds before returning it to him with a sad shake of the head.
I think he's still working on it, but it is something to think about, the fact that his idea of basic maths and mine differ so much. I can just about cope with numbers, but something that looks like Cthulu's signature just leaves me frozen in terror.
You have to remember that when I was doing my degree, all those years ago, I specialised in an option that ditched maths as soon as possible. To this day, I am eternally grateful that the first year maths re-sit included loads of questions on matrices. I could solve them. I didn't know what I'd achieved by solving them, but I could do them. In my first year maths mid-sessional by contrast, I achieved a sort of cult status amongst my compadrés by achieving a magnificent 5%, of which 1% was awarded for artistic interpretation (I kid you not). I was awarded 4% for my mathematical ability, and an extra percentage point for the drawing of a tombstone in the margin, with the legend, "RIP Maths."
So no. My knowledge of basic maths is not good. The trick is to pay attention to questions, and try not to confuse the terms maths and arithmatic.
Better still, climb a tree and squeal Oook, oook at the world.
The email to the housing finance group delegates, by contrast, was a masterpiece of thinly veiled venom and loathing, by the way. I was very pleased.
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