improbable game sequels

Monopoly: Stagflation Edition

Chutes & Ladders & Glass Ceilings

Risk: Actuaries & Underwriters

Taser Tag

Grand Theft Auto: First Night in San Quentin

the genius of bureaucracy

Happy Tax Day, U.S. readers. Today's utterly-dumb-Web-site anecdote is brought to you by none other than the U.S. Treasury.

If, like many business owners, you have to make quarterly tax payments, you might at some point decide that filling out paper vouchers and mailing them in along with your checks might not be all that convenient. And so you might go looking for a Web site where maybe you can just make your payments online. If so, you would likely find the Electronic Federal Tax Payment System.

Sounds handy, right? Wait 'til you try to set up an account. Here are the steps:

1. Register online for your account.
2. Wait roughly two weeks for a letter via the postal service, supposedly containing further instructions and a PIN number for setting up your account.
3. Receive the letter containing said PIN and attempt to use it to log on to the Web site -- and then realize that, in addition to the PIN, you need an "Internet password".
4. Re-read the letter and realize that you must call a customer service center to receive your Internet password.
5. Call the center and provide the PIN... and a separate 16-digit "enrollment trace number" noted on the PIN letter.
6. Return to the Web site yet again and provide your PIN, and Internet password... and Social Security Number.
7. Make yourself a stiff drink.

It takes fewer steps to launch Russian warheads. Banks, online brokerages, credit card services, and pretty much all other types of financial institution long ago figured out a security model that takes less than 5 minutes to complete -- and doesn't require the triangulation of your Internet, postal, and telephony services. Why can't the IRS follow suit?

Oh, and keep in mind that if you wait until April 14 before logging on and trying to schedule a payment for the next business day, you'll get a peculiar error telling you that you have entered an invalid date. That's right, April 15 -- Tax Day -- is an invalid date, according to the EFTPS. Why? This "24 hours a day" service doesn't accept payments after 8PM Eastern on the day before taxes are due. Silly you.

The best part? For sure, it's the first line of the EFTPS enrollment letter, which states: We have received your enrollment information for EFTPS, the easiest way to pay your federal taxes.

maybe they think you won't notice

Brita, the Clorox Company's line of water filtering products, has teamed up with Nalgene to help America reduce its plastic waste. The FilterForGood campaign encourages consumers to "take the pledge" to stop using bottled water and offers discounts on a Brita water filter and reusable Nalgene water bottle.

But if you've ever used a Brita water filter, you know that they rely on expensive, disposable plastic filter cartridges. And Brita doesn't offer a North American recycling program for these cartridges. (Sounds a bit like selling energy-efficient light bulbs but wrapping them in a giant plastic package....)

Granted, you only replace Brita cartridges ever couple months or so, which is a lot less plastic in the dump or recycling bin than a daily stream of water bottles. But let's be real: The U.S. has some of the best, safest water in the world -- and it comes straight out of the tap. Stick your Nalgene under that and cut out the middle man.

already? really?

For those of us here in the U.S., Daylight Savings Time begins next week. Did not see that one coming.

sacrifices

We're in the process of replacing my beloved two-seater soft-top convertible... with a station wagon. Apparently, it's not such a good idea to cart your infant around in the passenger seat of your roadster.

Granted, the station wagon is a far cry from the wagons with bench seats and faux wood paneling that we grew up with, and it drives pretty well. But if, one day, this kid is looking through our old photos and remarks at just how cool we "used to be", "way back when you owned a convertible," someone's getting grounded. For a long time.

wanted

Wanted: Helping-Arm Monkey

For data entry, dictation, chauffeuring, occasional odd jobs. Upward potential for high-yield diaper management position in near future.

• This is an on-site position.
• Must provide own transportation.
• Experience producing collected works of Shakespeare a plus.
• Equally able to work on teams or with little supervision.
• Potty-training a must.

Qualified candidates inquire within.

the exchange

First, I'd like to say that the Wife is pregnant and we are having a boy. Yes, thank you. It's true. We are quite excited about this.

But that's not the story I wanted to tell you. The real story is this: In preparing for the arrival of the little dude, we decided to clean the spare bedroom of all the old books we had lying around. And by that, I mainly mean the old textbooks and supplemental reading materials and management guides and coffee table books and started-but-never-finished books and every other in-between sort of book that we'll never read again and will never recommend that anyone else read again either sort of books. We put all these in five or six paper bags and loaded them into the trunk of our car.

Our town has a large and wonderful recycling center with a not-as-large and possibly wonderful book exhange in it, so we drove our five or six bags full of books over to the center and parked in front of the book exchange. The exchange is basically a half dozen or more bookcases lined up against the wall of the recycling center, and as we hopped out of the car we noticed a few people milling about.

I smiled at them. They looked at me. And this is where the story gets interesting.

I hefted one bag of books out of the trunk, carried it over to the bookcases, and set it down on the floor. "Is there any order to where the books go on the shelves?" I asked no in one particular.

"No," said a man in fleece just to my left, startling me with his sudden proximity. Before I could quite turn and focus, this man had bent down and was taking books out of the bag I had just left on the floor.

"Oh, hey, thanks," I said. I watched him for a moment as he dug through the bag, efficiently examining the cover and spine of each book and setting it in a pile next to him. Well, that's nice of him to help me stack the books, I figured. Then I went back to the car and grabbed another bag.

This time, a middle-aged woman with black hair silently intercepted me before I got to the shelves. Again, I nodded my thanks, but made sure to catch the Wife's eye as she handed off her own bag of books to another silent receiver nearby. She shrugged.

As I walked back to the car for my third set of books, I tried to understand why I felt a bit unsettled by the exchange. Should we have offered to help sort and stack the books on the shelves? Were we not supposed to bring old textbooks? I lifted another bag out of the car and carried it back, but this time, as both the man in fleece and the black-haired woman descended upon me, I tried to strike up a conversation. "So, are you volunteers here?" I asked.

"No," said the man in fleece. And then he took the bag from my hands.

"Oh, okay," I said and turned away. Wait, what?

I turned back and saw the man and the black-haired woman sifting through the contents of bag there in the same spot where I had handed it to them. And then it clicked: They were book scavengers. And it wasn't just one group -- there were multiple competing individuals at work here. They weren't putting these books away or choosing a few to read themselves -- they were taking the best of them so they could resell them elsewhere.

I met the Wife at the back of the car. She had clearly just had the same realization. "Is it bad that I don't want to give my books to them?" she whispered. We quickly debated the pros and cons of dropping off our books here. It felt as if somehow our posessions -- as valueless as they were to us -- were being preyed upon before we had even set them down. And yet, that was silly. Why shouldn't someone else profit off our old books? Weren't we going to donate them anyway? This way, maybe they would get recirculated to other communities and even other countries that might actually want old physics and psychology textbooks. Right? It seemed to make sense, sort of.

I quickly grabbed the last bag from the trunk and took it over to where a woman with two sets of eyeglasses strung around her neck was waiting. I set the bag at her feet, the way one might tentatively leave an offering before a goddess prone to sudden fits of anger. "Okay, then. Thanks," I said and backed away slowly. She didn't return the acknowledgement and started to pick through the paperbacks that had gone unfinished on our shelves for years.

The Wife already had the car running when I slipped into the passenger seat. "Why do I feel so used?" she asked as she threw the car in reverse.

"I don't know," I said, "but let's get out of here."

And that, my son, is the story of the sacrifice we made to give you your own bedroom.

what i learned from 2007

Okay, okay, so I'm a bit behind in posting the annual "what I learned last year" list, which is an idea I stole from Jeff. To be honest, I've had to think about it for a while this time. But here ya go, loosely in chronological order:

1. You can't come up with rational explanations for the actions of irrational people. Don't bother trying to understand these people or why they do the things they do. It will begin to affect your own sanity -- and most importantly, your happiness (and that of the people around you.) Just do whatever it takes to get the irrational people far away from you, or yourself from them.
2. You are rarely ever stuck. You may think you're stuck, but usually it's within your own constraints (such as fear or misperception or financial comfort level, etc.) There is usually a way out. Sure, there may be a tradeoff for taking this way out, and you will have to evaluate it carefully. But you're not truly stuck.
3. Work with people who appreciate what you do. Now, if you're doing something poorly, you should improve rather than seek out people who think poorly is just fine. But if you're doing something well and you're still not appreciated, then take your talents elsewhere. There are better ways to spend your time than trying to win the approval of people who refuse to give it.
4. Things you thought you never liked can be more fun than you realized. Like skiing. And coding. Ok, I admit it. So there.
5. Diversity of experience is more important than length of experience. I used to worry that my propensity for jumping between jobs -- and even industries -- would eventually be a problem for some potential employer who might think I'm unfocused. But then I started to notice that, at each new place I worked, there was always a group of long-time staffers who had been doing the exact same things, with the exact same tools, in the exact same way for years. And they had no reason to believe that there might be flaws in their current way of doing things, or more efficient tools for doing them, or even that they had the ability to do different things. Meanwhile the people who were truly coming up with creative solutions were the ones who had different skills and perspectives that they could apply to the problems at hand.
   
   That may sound self-congratulatory or as if I'm trying to defend my resume. But really it's a note about what I look for in others' resumes, and perhaps a warning about complacency to my future self.
6. The "official" results can sometimes be wrong. When it matters, verify on your own. Then verify three more times.
7. Parts wear out. That goes for humans as much as it does for cars and houses and technology. I don't have any good advice for this one. It's just something I learned in 2007.

the ultimate Christmas album

A few years ago, I was complaining yet again about traditional Christmas music, and the cheesy Christmas-sweater-wearing guys who sing it, when the Wife smartly suggested I put together a CD of Christmas music I actually would want to listen to. And so a tradition was born -- one for which I spend way too many hours scouring iTunes in search of both modern renditions of traditional holiday songs and entirely new holiday songs by modern artists.

Here's what got onto the CD this year:

• The Christmas Song, The Raveonettes
• Don't Shoot Me Santa, The Killers
• God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, Bare Naked Ladies & Sarah McLachlan
• A Change at Christmas (Say It Isn't So), The Flaming Lips
• Father Christmas, The Kinks
• Christmas Time, Aimee Mann
• Home on Christmas Day, Cyndi Lauper
• I Saw Three Ships, Sting
• Christmastime, Smashing Pumpkins
• Christmas, Leona Naess
• Christmas (Baby Please Come Home), U2
• O Holy Night, Tracy Chapman
• Christmas All Over Again, Tom Petty
• Silent Night, Stevie Nicks
• 2000 Miles, Pretenders

Here are some other selections that have made it onto CDs in years past:

• Calling on Mary, Aimee Mann
• Thank God It's Christmas, Queen
• Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, The Smithereens
• Santa Claus Is Comin' to Town, Bruce Springsteen
• Do They Know It's Christmas?, Band Aid
• Merry Christmas (I Don't Want to Fight Tonight), The Ramones
• Happy Christmas, John Lennon
• Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, Pretenders
• Heavy Metal Christmas, Twisted Sister
• Oi to the World, No Doubt
• Lonely Christmas Without You, Mick Jagger
• Christmas in America, Melissa Etheridge
• Here is Christmas, Heart
• I Believe in Father Christmas, Emerson, Lake & Palmer
• Children Go Where I Send Thee, Natalie Merchant
• Yellin' At the Xmas Tree, Billy Idol
• Ave Marie + Intro, Chris Cornell and Eleven

parts wearing out

The surest way to realize that you're getting older -- that your body is getting older -- is to inexplicably injure yourself doing the exact same thing you've been doing every single day for years. And I'm not even talking about one of those crick-in-the-neck sort of things you feel when you wake up some mornings, but rather the type of injury that sneaks up on you one unremarkable afternoon and makes you say out loud, "Ooh, that smarts."

Better yet, make it a slow-healing injury that disrupts everything -- the way you work, the way you sit, the way you drive a car, even the way you sleep. But absolutely, absolutely make sure it has no outwardly visible symptoms. That way, you can surprise even yourself with just how fake your excuse sounds when you say, "Sorry, I can't help you with that right now on account of my injury."