The other day my wife and I bought a new car, an electric one. Oh and it was used, not really new.
We spent quite a bit of time chatting with the owner of the dealership, and he talked at length about how much he wanted to help us all get away from petroleum products. His bit in this was to only sell used electric cars. Honestly, he didn't seem all that concerned about us buying at that time. He said he knew that we would get one eventually, and hoped that it would be sooner rather than later.
Well, in the end, we got one.
When we came back to do the paperwork, I brought him a Mobius Ball as a gift, to say thanks for what he was trying to do in the world. He played with it while we went over all the papers, and then asked how much more Mobius Balls were. After telling him the price, he said he wanted 20 to give as gifts.
Wow. 20? That's quite a few.
I went home, polished up a new batch, and went back to deliver them. No problem.
Well, he was out on the lot, and didn't have the cash on him. Could I, he wondered, send him an invoice and let him e-transfer the money? Sure. No prob.
I went back home, typed up a simple invoice, and sent it.
All is good.
I'm sitting back in my chair watching the little icon spinning in the corner of my e-mail saying that it's sending and receiving when up pops a new e-mail. The subject? "20 Mobius Balls". Hmmm.
I must have sent it to myself by accident.
And so I opened it up and it's this guy from Saskatchewan who has been buying Mobius Balls for his school for years wanting to know if he can buy some more, like 20 or so.
It must have taken me a few minutes to realize what I was reading.
I guess I have to polish some more.
Sunday, December 8, 2019
Saturday, September 22, 2018
Easy? Advanced?
A few years ago two women came up to my booth and said they were surprised to see someone making chainmail in Victoria. I wondered about this and learned that they owned a gallery in the area. They had recently brought in someone from Australia, I believe, to teach a weekend course on advanced chainmail. The weave the "teacher" chose was Byzantine.
Advanced? Well, all right. I guess some might consider that advanced, but it did surprise me. I always think of it as a beginner's weave.
Upon further questioning, I found out that she had them make their piece out of 20g wire, 1/8" internal diameter, or something along those lines.
Ok. That's just a bit difficult. Time consuming, even. But not advanced.
And this, dear Reader, leads me to my thought for today: the difference between simple and complex, easy and difficult.
Simple, in case you are unaware, means that there are very few steps involved. Complex means numerous steps.
Easy means that there is not a lot of energy involved in the making of the piece. Difficult means that a lot of energy is used, usually in terms of time and sweat.
When considering what weave to teach a group, it is important to keep these things in mind.
Byzantine is a simple weave. There are not a lot of steps involved. It is, essentially, 2 to 2 to 2, flip, split. That's it. If you're reading this blog, chances are that you know it is an easy weave.
Making it in tiny links doesn't make it a complex weave; it just makes it difficult.
1/2 Persian, for many, is a complex weave to begin, but simple to continue. It may be difficult to start, but is easy to finish. If you don't know the easy way to start it yet, just click on the video below:
Even this weave is what I would call a beginner's weave.
When giving a beginner's course, you should probably consider something that is both simple and easy, allowing them the time to both learn the process, as well as finish the piece.
For an advanced course, I would select something that is complex, but not too difficult. One example of this would be a Moorish rose pendant. It is a complex piece to make, but relatively quick. Oh, and I would do it in aluminium, as that makes it easier to close those last links without too much forcing or invectives. Below is a beautiful example of this weave by Steampunk Garage, made in steel and niobium. If you don't want to make it yourself, theirs is well worth it.
Many of us confuse difficult with complex, and when we are teaching others, this confusion can lead to a lot of unnecessary frustration. But when we understand the difference, then our students are just the richer for it.
Advanced? Well, all right. I guess some might consider that advanced, but it did surprise me. I always think of it as a beginner's weave.
Upon further questioning, I found out that she had them make their piece out of 20g wire, 1/8" internal diameter, or something along those lines.
Ok. That's just a bit difficult. Time consuming, even. But not advanced.
And this, dear Reader, leads me to my thought for today: the difference between simple and complex, easy and difficult.
Simple, in case you are unaware, means that there are very few steps involved. Complex means numerous steps.
Easy means that there is not a lot of energy involved in the making of the piece. Difficult means that a lot of energy is used, usually in terms of time and sweat.
When considering what weave to teach a group, it is important to keep these things in mind.
Byzantine is a simple weave. There are not a lot of steps involved. It is, essentially, 2 to 2 to 2, flip, split. That's it. If you're reading this blog, chances are that you know it is an easy weave.
Making it in tiny links doesn't make it a complex weave; it just makes it difficult.
1/2 Persian, for many, is a complex weave to begin, but simple to continue. It may be difficult to start, but is easy to finish. If you don't know the easy way to start it yet, just click on the video below:
When giving a beginner's course, you should probably consider something that is both simple and easy, allowing them the time to both learn the process, as well as finish the piece.
For an advanced course, I would select something that is complex, but not too difficult. One example of this would be a Moorish rose pendant. It is a complex piece to make, but relatively quick. Oh, and I would do it in aluminium, as that makes it easier to close those last links without too much forcing or invectives. Below is a beautiful example of this weave by Steampunk Garage, made in steel and niobium. If you don't want to make it yourself, theirs is well worth it.
Many of us confuse difficult with complex, and when we are teaching others, this confusion can lead to a lot of unnecessary frustration. But when we understand the difference, then our students are just the richer for it.
Monday, August 6, 2018
Goals
Earlier today, someone posted the following questions on a chainmail forum. I found them wonderful enough to not only respond, but to share here, too. Thoughts and comments are most welcome.
My response was as follows:
For years, as a fashion designer, my goal has to been to help others see the beauty within themselves. As an artisan, my goal is to help bring beauty to the world.
I have long been conscious that my main goal at my booth is not to sell every last item that I can, but instead to do all I can to ensure people leave my booth happier than when they arrived.
I spend a lot of my time talking with people about spiritual ideas, the essential oneness and unity of humanity, and strive to help people feel better about themselves and others. I long to see people leave my booth with hope.
Chainmail is all about making connections, and that is what I see as my purpose in life. it is no mere coincidence that I have chosen this medium.
When I began in this field, back in the 80s, all I saw people making was armour. If they made a bracelet, it was as strip of armour on the wrist, and about as attractive. I longed to raise this up to fashion design and beautiful jewelry. I did all I could to share these ideas, against the hordes who condemned my work as unworthy because "it wouldn't stop a sword". I worked hard against the perception of this medium as a mere craft for hobbyists, as opposed to an art form in its own right, which is why I rail against the silly names for weaves on various sites. I have watched as this medium has grown far beyond what I had hoped, and rejoice as people discover more of what can be done with it.
Now, I hope to see more and more people look to discover these beautiful weaves for themselves, as they learn how to explore the world around them, instead of merely asking for a tutorial for anything new they may see.
This is the medium I have chosen to help people move away from the low cultural standards of the world around us and rise up to a greater awareness of the beautiful intricacies of existence, eager to explore and filled with the courage to dare.
This is the medium I have chosen to help people overcome their prejudices and see the entire world filled with links just waiting to be joined into a woven web of wonder. These mere circles of metal demonstrate that there are no ring sizes that are better than others, no particular metals that are better than others, no colours that are superior to any others. And these links are a great metaphor for people, too.
This, to me, helps me realize my own place in the world.
What drives us every day?
What makes our hearts sing?
How do we help our customers achieve their dreams?
What is our core value?
What do we stand for?
What is our place in the world?
My response was as follows:
For years, as a fashion designer, my goal has to been to help others see the beauty within themselves. As an artisan, my goal is to help bring beauty to the world.
I have long been conscious that my main goal at my booth is not to sell every last item that I can, but instead to do all I can to ensure people leave my booth happier than when they arrived.
I spend a lot of my time talking with people about spiritual ideas, the essential oneness and unity of humanity, and strive to help people feel better about themselves and others. I long to see people leave my booth with hope.
Chainmail is all about making connections, and that is what I see as my purpose in life. it is no mere coincidence that I have chosen this medium.
When I began in this field, back in the 80s, all I saw people making was armour. If they made a bracelet, it was as strip of armour on the wrist, and about as attractive. I longed to raise this up to fashion design and beautiful jewelry. I did all I could to share these ideas, against the hordes who condemned my work as unworthy because "it wouldn't stop a sword". I worked hard against the perception of this medium as a mere craft for hobbyists, as opposed to an art form in its own right, which is why I rail against the silly names for weaves on various sites. I have watched as this medium has grown far beyond what I had hoped, and rejoice as people discover more of what can be done with it.
Now, I hope to see more and more people look to discover these beautiful weaves for themselves, as they learn how to explore the world around them, instead of merely asking for a tutorial for anything new they may see.
This is the medium I have chosen to help people move away from the low cultural standards of the world around us and rise up to a greater awareness of the beautiful intricacies of existence, eager to explore and filled with the courage to dare.
This is the medium I have chosen to help people overcome their prejudices and see the entire world filled with links just waiting to be joined into a woven web of wonder. These mere circles of metal demonstrate that there are no ring sizes that are better than others, no particular metals that are better than others, no colours that are superior to any others. And these links are a great metaphor for people, too.
This, to me, helps me realize my own place in the world.
Wednesday, September 20, 2017
1/2 Persian Variants - 3 Rows Wide
There is no right way, nor wrong way, to make chain mail.
Really.
I can't say it enough. And this applies to all the arts, not just chain.
There may be a technique that you are trying to learn, in which case you may be doing that technique correctly, or not, but that doesn't make the "not" wrong. It just makes it something else.
Now, why am I saying this? Simple, really. I've been asked about all the various forms of 1/2 Persian extended to more than two rows, and over and over again I am asked how to do it "correctly".
Well, dear Reader, it all depends on what you are trying to do, what effect you seek, and what it is you want.
Below you will see an example of 1/2 Persian, followed by a series of 3 row variations. The 1/2 Persian is essentially two rows of rings at a right angle to each other. When looking end-on, they basically look like a V. To add another row to one side, I can either go down, and have it look like an N, but more angled, or I can go up and have it look like a squared off U. The choice is mine.
So, as you can see, this is an example of 1/2 Persian, with one row black and one row grey. By the way, the rings that I am using are 16g 3/8 ID, in case you were wondering.
Now, the following 3 pictures will show the black on the bottom, and the grey on the top, with the grey overlapping on the left side. In other words, from left to right, the black links are going through 2 grey on the left side and 1 on the right. What I have done in each case is add another row of red on the top of the weave, going through the grey.
I had to reverse the direction of the photo in the fourth picture, or else you wouldn't be able to see what was happening, but the idea is still the same.
At this point, when I want to add a third row, I have a choice. I can go through 2 links on the left, or 2 on the right. I can also go, from left to right, either above the rings on the left, or below the rings on the left.
In the first two examples I am going through 1 on the left and 2 on the right. In the first I am going below the red links on the left and uphill to the right, while in the second I am going above them and downhill to the right. To simplify, in the first example, I reference it as 1-2 U, or 1 link, 2 links, uphill. The second is 1 -2 D, or 1 link, 2 links, downhill. The 1-2 U and 1-2 D refer to the way in which I added the red links.
In these last two examples, when the red goes through the same number as the black, either 1-2 or 2-1, it brings the weave back upon itself. This is great if you want to make the piece more dense.
All of these variants are beautiful, good and useful.
Now, I'm not sure if any of this made any sense, but I'm hoping it was useful. If you have any questions, this is just a working copy of my thoughts and I will be glad to edit it as you all see fit.
Oh, below is a link to a video my friend Francois made of me beginning 1/2 Persian. I hope this all makes it easier. Perhaps I'll load a video of my own doing each of these variants. Let me know what you think.
How to begin 1/2 Persian:
https://www.facebook.com/godoflordy/videos/10155455603899637/
Really.
I can't say it enough. And this applies to all the arts, not just chain.
There may be a technique that you are trying to learn, in which case you may be doing that technique correctly, or not, but that doesn't make the "not" wrong. It just makes it something else.
Now, why am I saying this? Simple, really. I've been asked about all the various forms of 1/2 Persian extended to more than two rows, and over and over again I am asked how to do it "correctly".
Well, dear Reader, it all depends on what you are trying to do, what effect you seek, and what it is you want.
Below you will see an example of 1/2 Persian, followed by a series of 3 row variations. The 1/2 Persian is essentially two rows of rings at a right angle to each other. When looking end-on, they basically look like a V. To add another row to one side, I can either go down, and have it look like an N, but more angled, or I can go up and have it look like a squared off U. The choice is mine.
So, as you can see, this is an example of 1/2 Persian, with one row black and one row grey. By the way, the rings that I am using are 16g 3/8 ID, in case you were wondering.
Now, the following 3 pictures will show the black on the bottom, and the grey on the top, with the grey overlapping on the left side. In other words, from left to right, the black links are going through 2 grey on the left side and 1 on the right. What I have done in each case is add another row of red on the top of the weave, going through the grey.
I had to reverse the direction of the photo in the fourth picture, or else you wouldn't be able to see what was happening, but the idea is still the same.
At this point, when I want to add a third row, I have a choice. I can go through 2 links on the left, or 2 on the right. I can also go, from left to right, either above the rings on the left, or below the rings on the left.
In the first two examples I am going through 1 on the left and 2 on the right. In the first I am going below the red links on the left and uphill to the right, while in the second I am going above them and downhill to the right. To simplify, in the first example, I reference it as 1-2 U, or 1 link, 2 links, uphill. The second is 1 -2 D, or 1 link, 2 links, downhill. The 1-2 U and 1-2 D refer to the way in which I added the red links.
1/2 Persian, 1-2 U, 3 rows
1/2 Persian, 1-2 D, 3 rows
You will notice, especially if you try it yourself, the by reversing the black and red, you extend the weave further along sideways. In other words, the black is 2-1, while the red is 1-2, and this moves the weave further away from the center or the black/grey weave. It makes it wider. This is great if you want to make wider bracelets.
Now, in the following example, I am going through 2 grey links on the left and 1 on the right, above the red links on the left, or downhill to the right. This is also known as 3/4 Persian, as it is basically a full Persian bracelet with a single row missing.
1/2 Persian, 2-1 D, 3 rows, or 3/4 Persian
Finally, here I added the red links through 2 grey links on the left and 1 on the right, below the red links on the left, or uphill to the right. In other words, all I have done is double up the black rings with the red rings.
1/2 Persian, 2-1 U, 3 rows
In these last two examples, when the red goes through the same number as the black, either 1-2 or 2-1, it brings the weave back upon itself. This is great if you want to make the piece more dense.
All of these variants are beautiful, good and useful.
Now, I'm not sure if any of this made any sense, but I'm hoping it was useful. If you have any questions, this is just a working copy of my thoughts and I will be glad to edit it as you all see fit.
Oh, below is a link to a video my friend Francois made of me beginning 1/2 Persian. I hope this all makes it easier. Perhaps I'll load a video of my own doing each of these variants. Let me know what you think.
How to begin 1/2 Persian:
https://www.facebook.com/godoflordy/videos/10155455603899637/
Thursday, June 22, 2017
Colouring Titanium
I have mentioned in the past that I used to run a chain mail gallery just outside Chicago, lo those many years ago.
One night, while sitting there, bored out of my skull, two kids came in.
Now, when I say that I was sitting there bored, please don't get the mistaken impression that I wasn't working. I was. When it was slow, I was making chain, as I am wont to do.
Well, this particular evening, I was working in titanium, a metal that I had not worked with much before this. Remember, this was back around 1990, so all these exotic metals were fairly hard to come by.
Anyways, I was working in titanium, and decided that I would have fun with it. I knew about its various properties from chemistry classes I had taken, and decided to see what I could do about colouring it with a flame.
I would hold a link over a candle, and then quench it in a glass of water I had sitting there. Fun times for all.
So there I am, candle, cup and links, when in come these two kids. And to be fair, they were probably 15 or so, but they just seemed like kids to me.
Anyways they come in and look around. They see my set up, and then notice that some of my links are purple. "Whoa. That's just so cool", their expressions seem to say.
After the basic greetings, I go back to my work, holding a link over the candle.
"Hey man," one of them asks, "how you doin' that? How you makin' that ring purple?"
"I'm using a purple candle", I say, pointing to the purple candle, as if it's completely self-evident.
"Really?"
"Sure", I say, rising to the challenge. "Here, let me show you." And I reached under the counter where I had a second candle, but this one yellow.
I lit the yellow candle, and held a new ring over it. After a few moments, I quenched it, and sure enough, it was yellow.
They were completely freaked out over this, and left in amazement, totally impressed.
And that, dear Reader, is how you colour titanium and play with minds all at the same time.
You're welcome.
One night, while sitting there, bored out of my skull, two kids came in.
Now, when I say that I was sitting there bored, please don't get the mistaken impression that I wasn't working. I was. When it was slow, I was making chain, as I am wont to do.
Well, this particular evening, I was working in titanium, a metal that I had not worked with much before this. Remember, this was back around 1990, so all these exotic metals were fairly hard to come by.
Anyways, I was working in titanium, and decided that I would have fun with it. I knew about its various properties from chemistry classes I had taken, and decided to see what I could do about colouring it with a flame.
I would hold a link over a candle, and then quench it in a glass of water I had sitting there. Fun times for all.
So there I am, candle, cup and links, when in come these two kids. And to be fair, they were probably 15 or so, but they just seemed like kids to me.
Anyways they come in and look around. They see my set up, and then notice that some of my links are purple. "Whoa. That's just so cool", their expressions seem to say.
After the basic greetings, I go back to my work, holding a link over the candle.
"Hey man," one of them asks, "how you doin' that? How you makin' that ring purple?"
"I'm using a purple candle", I say, pointing to the purple candle, as if it's completely self-evident.
"Really?"
"Sure", I say, rising to the challenge. "Here, let me show you." And I reached under the counter where I had a second candle, but this one yellow.
I lit the yellow candle, and held a new ring over it. After a few moments, I quenched it, and sure enough, it was yellow.
They were completely freaked out over this, and left in amazement, totally impressed.
And that, dear Reader, is how you colour titanium and play with minds all at the same time.
You're welcome.
Wednesday, June 21, 2017
For the Love of... Math
I love mathematics.
Actually, that's too formal. How about, "I love math."
Better.
It often occurs to me that my chosen art form by which I have selected to try and make a living, chain mail, was likely chosen by me due to my love of math. The patterns, the shapes, the ratios, the balance, the harmony: to me it all comes down to the mathematics. And math, to me, is pure beauty.
But my love of math goes beyond the intricately interlinked circles of chain mail and straight to the numbers themselves.
And so, when I was at the bank today getting change for my float this weekend, the oddly ugly side of those same numbers came up.
Normally I round all my prices to the nearest $5 just so that I don't have to deal with those pesky coins. I mean, change is good, but bills are easier. And I lived in Europe long enough to be put off by the notion of adding tax after the price. I really like the idea of paying the price that you see on the tag. "Is this $10?" "Yes, it is." "Okay. Here's $10." "The total is $12.52, please." "But I thought it was $10." This is a conversation that always drives me up a wall. I could go on and on about it, but don't worry. I'll spare you.
So why, you may be wondering, did I need change from the bank? Glad you asked, dear Reader. I recently added some bags of rings on my table, and to be fair to my customers, some of them are priced $7, $8, $5, $10, whatever. I could have just charged a straightforward $10 each, but then I feel that some of the bags wouldn't be worth it, and I always like to ensure that my customers are getting a fair value for their money.
Long and short of it? I needed a roll of toonies for the weekend. Toonies, for those of you who are deprived of the inestimable bounty of living in Canada, are how we lovingly refer to our $2 coins. Oh, and the new ones minted this year glow in the dark. How cool is that?
So I went to the bank to get a roll of 25 toonies, gave them $50, and came home with my round little lump of a roll of coins. Eager to see if there were any of the newly coined glowie ones, I opened the roll and looked over the two dozen coins, none of which glew.
Wait. Two dozen? Yes. Two dozen.
I'm pretty good at counting, and I'm fairly certain that two dozen does not 25 make.
With a bit of chagrin, I re-rolled the coins, got back in the car, and made my way back to the bank.
Aside - Before I continue, let me explain that the bank I went to is not the closest one to my house. It is not the one I usually do my business business with. That bank, the one that is both closest and my usual go to for work stuff, is a credit union, and as such charges me whenever I want to either turn in or receive rolled coins. I discovered this one afternoon when I asked for a roll of toonies. The teller said that she would need to charge me $1 for the service as they are not a bank, but a credit union, and therefore actually had to pay the mint to get the rolled coins. Well, not wanting to pay, and feeling that this was somehow unfair, I told her to skip that part of the transaction. I wasn't willing to pay $1 to have my nice, crisp $50 bill turned into a neat roll of bi-coloured coinage. Oh, when our toonies don't glow in the dark, they are still two-tone. So, instead of a roll, I asked her if I could just have 24 toonies instead. After a mere moment of puzzled hesitation, she smiled and said of course I could. She took my newly minted red bill, $50, and gave me 24 toonies in return. Then she gave me my change: another toonie. And she was kind enough to put them all in a roll for me.
Anyways, I went back to my other bank, the one where I have my personal account instead of my business account, only because they told me to take my business elsewhere (true story that I won't bore you with here), stood in line and happened to get the same teller I had about 20 minutes earlier. I placed the roll on the counter and asked her, "How do you verify your rolls of coins?" I didn't get much further than that when she, with copious amounts of apologizing, gave me a new roll, which we both counted on the spot.
In some ways, it reminded of another time some 20 years ago when I was fed up with the bank regularly taking the time to verify that the bills I was depositing weren't counterfeit. One day when they gave me a nice stack of $20s, I made them wait while I used my newly acquired counterfeit detecting pen to test their bills. Only to discover that 3 were counterfeit. Well, that left me in a bit of a quandary. By law I couldn't accept them as legal tender, nor could I give them back to them. After calling down the manager, he agreed with my assessment of the situation, and we phoned the RCMP. I was given 3 new authentic bills, and the police came to write up the report.
But this is all just a weird side stream of my love for math.
For some reason, amidst all this, I was reminded of another instance many years ago where my love of math almost got me in trouble.
I had a chain mail store just outside Chicago and was bored out of my skull one evening, waiting for the clock to ponderously tick by so that I could close for the evening. There on the counter was a bowl full of bracelets that we were selling for $15 each. Sales were slow but steady, and as I said, I was bored. So I took the sign and re-wrote it, put it back on the bowl, closed the shop and went home.
The next day my partner called to tell me what a brilliant idea it was to re-price the bracelets. They were selling quite well now.
"Wait. What?" I couldn't believe my ears. Was she serious?
Yes. The new sign was really making a difference.
And what, pray tell, did it say?
"Special: $15 each, or 3 for $50"
Sigh.
I had her change the sign back, but not before I was there that afternoon. It was at this time, while she was re-writing the old sign, that a woman came in and wanted to buy 3 of the bracelets.
"3 for $50? That's not a very good deal, is it?"
"Oh," I replied, "but it includes tax", thinking that I would talk her out of it after having a moment of fun.
"But that only comes to $48.15."
Ok. Now wait a second. She could do the tax that quickly in her head?
"But it includes idiot tax", not believing what was happening.
"Oh," she said, with a look of slow comprehension, "ok." And she handed me $50, took her bracelets, and headed out, satisfied.
Actually, that's too formal. How about, "I love math."
Better.
It often occurs to me that my chosen art form by which I have selected to try and make a living, chain mail, was likely chosen by me due to my love of math. The patterns, the shapes, the ratios, the balance, the harmony: to me it all comes down to the mathematics. And math, to me, is pure beauty.
But my love of math goes beyond the intricately interlinked circles of chain mail and straight to the numbers themselves.
And so, when I was at the bank today getting change for my float this weekend, the oddly ugly side of those same numbers came up.
Normally I round all my prices to the nearest $5 just so that I don't have to deal with those pesky coins. I mean, change is good, but bills are easier. And I lived in Europe long enough to be put off by the notion of adding tax after the price. I really like the idea of paying the price that you see on the tag. "Is this $10?" "Yes, it is." "Okay. Here's $10." "The total is $12.52, please." "But I thought it was $10." This is a conversation that always drives me up a wall. I could go on and on about it, but don't worry. I'll spare you.
So why, you may be wondering, did I need change from the bank? Glad you asked, dear Reader. I recently added some bags of rings on my table, and to be fair to my customers, some of them are priced $7, $8, $5, $10, whatever. I could have just charged a straightforward $10 each, but then I feel that some of the bags wouldn't be worth it, and I always like to ensure that my customers are getting a fair value for their money.
Long and short of it? I needed a roll of toonies for the weekend. Toonies, for those of you who are deprived of the inestimable bounty of living in Canada, are how we lovingly refer to our $2 coins. Oh, and the new ones minted this year glow in the dark. How cool is that?
So I went to the bank to get a roll of 25 toonies, gave them $50, and came home with my round little lump of a roll of coins. Eager to see if there were any of the newly coined glowie ones, I opened the roll and looked over the two dozen coins, none of which glew.
Wait. Two dozen? Yes. Two dozen.
I'm pretty good at counting, and I'm fairly certain that two dozen does not 25 make.
With a bit of chagrin, I re-rolled the coins, got back in the car, and made my way back to the bank.
Aside - Before I continue, let me explain that the bank I went to is not the closest one to my house. It is not the one I usually do my business business with. That bank, the one that is both closest and my usual go to for work stuff, is a credit union, and as such charges me whenever I want to either turn in or receive rolled coins. I discovered this one afternoon when I asked for a roll of toonies. The teller said that she would need to charge me $1 for the service as they are not a bank, but a credit union, and therefore actually had to pay the mint to get the rolled coins. Well, not wanting to pay, and feeling that this was somehow unfair, I told her to skip that part of the transaction. I wasn't willing to pay $1 to have my nice, crisp $50 bill turned into a neat roll of bi-coloured coinage. Oh, when our toonies don't glow in the dark, they are still two-tone. So, instead of a roll, I asked her if I could just have 24 toonies instead. After a mere moment of puzzled hesitation, she smiled and said of course I could. She took my newly minted red bill, $50, and gave me 24 toonies in return. Then she gave me my change: another toonie. And she was kind enough to put them all in a roll for me.
Anyways, I went back to my other bank, the one where I have my personal account instead of my business account, only because they told me to take my business elsewhere (true story that I won't bore you with here), stood in line and happened to get the same teller I had about 20 minutes earlier. I placed the roll on the counter and asked her, "How do you verify your rolls of coins?" I didn't get much further than that when she, with copious amounts of apologizing, gave me a new roll, which we both counted on the spot.
In some ways, it reminded of another time some 20 years ago when I was fed up with the bank regularly taking the time to verify that the bills I was depositing weren't counterfeit. One day when they gave me a nice stack of $20s, I made them wait while I used my newly acquired counterfeit detecting pen to test their bills. Only to discover that 3 were counterfeit. Well, that left me in a bit of a quandary. By law I couldn't accept them as legal tender, nor could I give them back to them. After calling down the manager, he agreed with my assessment of the situation, and we phoned the RCMP. I was given 3 new authentic bills, and the police came to write up the report.
But this is all just a weird side stream of my love for math.
For some reason, amidst all this, I was reminded of another instance many years ago where my love of math almost got me in trouble.
I had a chain mail store just outside Chicago and was bored out of my skull one evening, waiting for the clock to ponderously tick by so that I could close for the evening. There on the counter was a bowl full of bracelets that we were selling for $15 each. Sales were slow but steady, and as I said, I was bored. So I took the sign and re-wrote it, put it back on the bowl, closed the shop and went home.
The next day my partner called to tell me what a brilliant idea it was to re-price the bracelets. They were selling quite well now.
"Wait. What?" I couldn't believe my ears. Was she serious?
Yes. The new sign was really making a difference.
And what, pray tell, did it say?
"Special: $15 each, or 3 for $50"
Sigh.
I had her change the sign back, but not before I was there that afternoon. It was at this time, while she was re-writing the old sign, that a woman came in and wanted to buy 3 of the bracelets.
"3 for $50? That's not a very good deal, is it?"
"Oh," I replied, "but it includes tax", thinking that I would talk her out of it after having a moment of fun.
"But that only comes to $48.15."
Ok. Now wait a second. She could do the tax that quickly in her head?
"But it includes idiot tax", not believing what was happening.
"Oh," she said, with a look of slow comprehension, "ok." And she handed me $50, took her bracelets, and headed out, satisfied.
Saturday, June 18, 2016
Karma
Ok, now I'm really a nice guy. I don't try to rip anyone off. I'm honest about my product. And if someone tries to give me a tip for making a special order for them, or adding a few rings to make a piece fit, I hand them their change and ask them to pass it on to one of the street buskers instead.
But sometimes, every now and then, rarely but once in a blue moon, something occurs that is beyond my control.
Just the other day a man came by booth.
Oh, wait. Before I tell you that story, I should mention a different one. And before that, I should say that I was born in Chicago. I'm an American. Canadian, too, now, but still American. So please don't think that I have anything against Americans. I don't.
Last year this couple came to my booth early in the morning, as I was setting up shop for the day. They were from Georgia, southern US Georgia not Georgia on the deep Black Sea. And after a short but pleasant conversation, out of the blue, the guy says, "I really like Canada. If there weren't so many left-wing anti-gun freaks, I'd consider moving here." The wife, to her credit, looked aghast that he had said such a thing. After the momentary shock of I-can't-believe-I-just-heard-this, I replied, "Yeah. And if it weren't for all the right-wing gun-toting nutcases, I might have stayed in the US." And to think, I was actually civil and smiling politely when I said that. I mean, it's not why I moved to Canada, but I couldn't help saying that.
Anyways, just the other day, this guy comes up to my booth and he's wearing a "Trump" baseball hat. My first thought was, "Wow. You got some balls wearing that outside of the US." But then he started talking and I realized that he really was a jerk. I mean, like a complete jerk. A total blockhead. A real imbecile. An absolute, one hundred percent, abnormal wrinkles around the mouth, flatulantly speaking asshole.
He was, in short, exactly the sort of person that I truly don't want to sell to. No interest. Nada. Zip. Zero.
But he picked up a $100 bracelet and asked if I accepted cash.
"Sure", I said, with as little enthusiasm as I could muster.
"'Murican?"
"Of course."
"What's the exchange rate?"
Ok. So at least he realized that he was in another country. Given some of the the things he had been saying earlier to his friends, I was truly wondering. I mean, not all who land here in Victoria with the cruise ships do. We are, after all, their only stop in Canada, and it just doesn't occur to them. No problem. We all understand. But given some of the excrement that exuded from his lips, I was truly surprised at that question.
Now, again, to be fair, I'm really a nice guy. I've been told so by many people. In fact, my wife, when we began courting said, "You're a nice guy, but..." I didn't actually hear anything she said after that for a few minutes, but then I realized she was talking about how she liked me and was a bit concerned that I might not like her, and that this might upset our friendship, and was I interested in exploring a relationship with her. Ladies out there, you might not be aware of it, but there is a switch in the male brain that turns on with the phrase, "You're a nice guy, but..." and continues with screaming internal sobs of "Nooooo! Why me?" Please. If you have any compassion at all for the guy, never, and I mean never, use that phrase on a friend.
Where was I?
Oh yes, nice guy. Really. I am.
Exchange rate. Right.
"20%."
If you're at all familiar with the Canadian dollar, our beloved Loonie (don't you just love a currency called "The Loonie"), and the US dollar, the almighty buck (which makes me think of a male deer on steroids), then you know that the current rate is closer to 30%. It wasn't that I was trying to rip him off. Not at all. It's just that I'm not a bank. I'm not a currency exchange. It costs me money to deposit US cash, and I'm not sure what the exchange rate will be when I eventually get around to thinking about considering the possibility of going to the bank, so I give myself a little cushion. And besides, I can calculate 20% in my head.
"What's that come to?"
"$120." See? I can calculate 20% on $100 in my head, no problem. I'm good with math. My Dad used to say that it was my first language.
"Really?"
By this point I was tired, and just wanted this guy out of my booth. You'll notice that I haven't said a word about what he actually said or did that made me come to conclusion about his anatomical development. That would be backbiting, after all, and I won't do that. I just know that humans are deuterostomes, which means that our rectal opening develops first, meaning that as we grow in the womb, there is a point in our development during which we are basically just an asshole. And I'm aware that some of us never develop beyond that stage. And there, standing in front of me, was a prime example. And I just wanted him gone.
And being a nice guy, (remember, I'm a nice guy) I said, "Really. But I'll let you have it for $100."
"Oh, okay." And he reached in his wallet and handed me a $100 bill.
A $100 US bill.
He took the bracelet, from which I had already removed the price tag, and walked away.
I must have stood for there for a full minute or two puzzled about something, holding that bill, with a bit of a frinkle. That's a cross between a frown on your face and that wrinkle that develops between the eyebrows. I stood there. For well over a minute.
And then I realized that we had both converted that money in the wrong direction.
By the time that dawned on me, he was long gone.
And I was left thinking, oh well, karma in action.
But sometimes, every now and then, rarely but once in a blue moon, something occurs that is beyond my control.
Just the other day a man came by booth.
Oh, wait. Before I tell you that story, I should mention a different one. And before that, I should say that I was born in Chicago. I'm an American. Canadian, too, now, but still American. So please don't think that I have anything against Americans. I don't.
Last year this couple came to my booth early in the morning, as I was setting up shop for the day. They were from Georgia, southern US Georgia not Georgia on the deep Black Sea. And after a short but pleasant conversation, out of the blue, the guy says, "I really like Canada. If there weren't so many left-wing anti-gun freaks, I'd consider moving here." The wife, to her credit, looked aghast that he had said such a thing. After the momentary shock of I-can't-believe-I-just-heard-this, I replied, "Yeah. And if it weren't for all the right-wing gun-toting nutcases, I might have stayed in the US." And to think, I was actually civil and smiling politely when I said that. I mean, it's not why I moved to Canada, but I couldn't help saying that.
Anyways, just the other day, this guy comes up to my booth and he's wearing a "Trump" baseball hat. My first thought was, "Wow. You got some balls wearing that outside of the US." But then he started talking and I realized that he really was a jerk. I mean, like a complete jerk. A total blockhead. A real imbecile. An absolute, one hundred percent, abnormal wrinkles around the mouth, flatulantly speaking asshole.
He was, in short, exactly the sort of person that I truly don't want to sell to. No interest. Nada. Zip. Zero.
But he picked up a $100 bracelet and asked if I accepted cash.
"Sure", I said, with as little enthusiasm as I could muster.
"'Murican?"
"Of course."
"What's the exchange rate?"
Ok. So at least he realized that he was in another country. Given some of the the things he had been saying earlier to his friends, I was truly wondering. I mean, not all who land here in Victoria with the cruise ships do. We are, after all, their only stop in Canada, and it just doesn't occur to them. No problem. We all understand. But given some of the excrement that exuded from his lips, I was truly surprised at that question.
Now, again, to be fair, I'm really a nice guy. I've been told so by many people. In fact, my wife, when we began courting said, "You're a nice guy, but..." I didn't actually hear anything she said after that for a few minutes, but then I realized she was talking about how she liked me and was a bit concerned that I might not like her, and that this might upset our friendship, and was I interested in exploring a relationship with her. Ladies out there, you might not be aware of it, but there is a switch in the male brain that turns on with the phrase, "You're a nice guy, but..." and continues with screaming internal sobs of "Nooooo! Why me?" Please. If you have any compassion at all for the guy, never, and I mean never, use that phrase on a friend.
Where was I?
Oh yes, nice guy. Really. I am.
Exchange rate. Right.
"20%."
If you're at all familiar with the Canadian dollar, our beloved Loonie (don't you just love a currency called "The Loonie"), and the US dollar, the almighty buck (which makes me think of a male deer on steroids), then you know that the current rate is closer to 30%. It wasn't that I was trying to rip him off. Not at all. It's just that I'm not a bank. I'm not a currency exchange. It costs me money to deposit US cash, and I'm not sure what the exchange rate will be when I eventually get around to thinking about considering the possibility of going to the bank, so I give myself a little cushion. And besides, I can calculate 20% in my head.
"What's that come to?"
"$120." See? I can calculate 20% on $100 in my head, no problem. I'm good with math. My Dad used to say that it was my first language.
"Really?"
By this point I was tired, and just wanted this guy out of my booth. You'll notice that I haven't said a word about what he actually said or did that made me come to conclusion about his anatomical development. That would be backbiting, after all, and I won't do that. I just know that humans are deuterostomes, which means that our rectal opening develops first, meaning that as we grow in the womb, there is a point in our development during which we are basically just an asshole. And I'm aware that some of us never develop beyond that stage. And there, standing in front of me, was a prime example. And I just wanted him gone.
And being a nice guy, (remember, I'm a nice guy) I said, "Really. But I'll let you have it for $100."
"Oh, okay." And he reached in his wallet and handed me a $100 bill.
A $100 US bill.
He took the bracelet, from which I had already removed the price tag, and walked away.
I must have stood for there for a full minute or two puzzled about something, holding that bill, with a bit of a frinkle. That's a cross between a frown on your face and that wrinkle that develops between the eyebrows. I stood there. For well over a minute.
And then I realized that we had both converted that money in the wrong direction.
By the time that dawned on me, he was long gone.
And I was left thinking, oh well, karma in action.
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