I’ve been noticing that the powers that be are capitalizing on our nation’s glaring lack of math skills. The first place I became aware of this conspiracy was at my local supermarket. As the primary shopper in my family and the son of a skinflint, I pay close attention to rising and falling prices. “Buy One, Get One Free” gets me hot, and I’m the first fool to attach a little plastic stump to my key chain if it means access to preferred discounts for super savvy shoppers like myself.
Lately, however, things have become a tad more complicated when trying to sort out how much I’m actually saving. Just this weekend I noticed that the signs below my usual bargains are becoming far more mathematically complex. I can easily divide 2 into $5.00 for boxes of snack crackers but when I spy bottled water listed as 3 for $2.00, I need to silence my iPod and pause. I think that means each tube costs roughly 70 cents but I’m not sure. This is where my public school education ends, a few donuts short of the bakery section. As I wander and wonder through the aisles, I realize that a place I used to go to purchase foodstuffs for my family of 4 has now become a divisional nightmare: 6 for $2.58, 12 for $3.79, 16 for $8.77. Who the hell do these people think I am, Barry Mazur ? I know they’re trying to coerce math idiots like me into buying these items purely out of shame. They almost have me in their clutches. I swore when I waited tables that there was no way in pocket protector hell that you’d catch me with a calculator outside my home office. A waitress I once slung hash with said that people who whip out calculators in restaurants or grocery stores lead sad and pathetic lives. Let Pythagoras strike her dead if it’s not the truth.
The other outlet where I witnessed evidence that we are all a fraction short of a full equation was on my television set. As a teacher of teenagers, I try to watch new shows at least once so I know what the hell my students are mumbling about. Numb3rs, a new drama on CBS stars Rob Morrow (the formerly sweet, almost forgotten guy from Northern Exposure) as a cranky FBI agent with a brother whose skin is far too clear to be a math genius. From what I can tell, the plots will be the same each week: FBI brother will crinkle his brow at a tough-to-solve case, call the Math brother who will use up a whole box of chalk writing some complicated theorem on his blackboard that will point directly to the bad guy’s trashy trailer. CBS has to believe most viewers need their fingers and toes just to count to Channel 13 because this show makes absolutely no mathematical sense, even to a guy like me who still owns an abacus. Math brother paces around the set, his far too sexy assistant following him in awe, as he mutters limp lines like “There’s an 87% chance of your killer living here.” Then he’ll dramatically point to a map surrounded by slightly talented actors orphaned from other cancelled TV shows. Even the extras on Numb3ers can’t believe what they’re seeing.
Instead of feeling holomorphically handicapped, I’ve decided to capitalize on our collective ignorance for my own amusement. For instance, I’ve started grading essays in the same manner as the signs in my grocery store. Instead of an “A,” I now write 123/133 in thick red pen. When one of my students asks if he will enjoy reading The Great Gatsby, I happily answer, “There is an 89% chance that you won’t hate it.” As he stares back at me in slack-jawed confusion, I strongly encourage him to check my math.