When I was young, my older sister Stephanie and I shared a great number of things. One evening, we were in the kitchen discussing how to split the last piece of dessert when my father introduced us to an age-old procedure that ensures both parties are satisfied: One person cuts and the other chooses. It was a simple and fool-proof way to settle the sharing predicament. Or so he thought….
You see, my devious young brain quickly realized the obvious flaw in this method. It operates under the assumption that any person, when given the choice, will choose the bigger / better piece. Because, like, duh. Who wouldn’t, right? Well, as it turns out, kind generous people don’t. They do the crazy thing. They take the smaller piece.
So whenever Stephanie and I needed to share something, I would volunteer to divide it. I would then cut them unevenly, one piece noticeably bigger than the other, but only barely so. (I had to keep it subtle to keep from arising any suspicions.) Invariably, Steph would take the smaller piece, just as a kind older sister should. And I would victoriously end up with the bigger piece, as evil younger sisters are prone to do. Ta-da!
Flash-forward 15 years:
Today I made a fruit smoothie. I got out two cups from the cupboard. I filled one all the way up, which only left about three measly spoonfuls for the other cup. “Tee hee hee,” I thought. I put a spoon in each cup and brought them over to Gary. “Here,” I said, “I divided them so you can choose.” And poor sweet Gary took the three-spoonful cup without even hesitating.
And that, kids, is why you should surround yourself with nice people.
(Disclaimer: I’m not a completely awful wife; I offered Gary half of my smoothie after my little experiment. Stephanie, on the other hand, remains drastically ripped off.)
You see, my devious young brain quickly realized the obvious flaw in this method. It operates under the assumption that any person, when given the choice, will choose the bigger / better piece. Because, like, duh. Who wouldn’t, right? Well, as it turns out, kind generous people don’t. They do the crazy thing. They take the smaller piece.
So whenever Stephanie and I needed to share something, I would volunteer to divide it. I would then cut them unevenly, one piece noticeably bigger than the other, but only barely so. (I had to keep it subtle to keep from arising any suspicions.) Invariably, Steph would take the smaller piece, just as a kind older sister should. And I would victoriously end up with the bigger piece, as evil younger sisters are prone to do. Ta-da!
Flash-forward 15 years:
Today I made a fruit smoothie. I got out two cups from the cupboard. I filled one all the way up, which only left about three measly spoonfuls for the other cup. “Tee hee hee,” I thought. I put a spoon in each cup and brought them over to Gary. “Here,” I said, “I divided them so you can choose.” And poor sweet Gary took the three-spoonful cup without even hesitating.
And that, kids, is why you should surround yourself with nice people.
(Disclaimer: I’m not a completely awful wife; I offered Gary half of my smoothie after my little experiment. Stephanie, on the other hand, remains drastically ripped off.)