Toilet paper equations make no sense in any math style

When I was a kid, adults railed against "new math," which focused on students showing their work and using their deductive skills, rather than simply memorizing formulas.

About 20 years ago, people came out strongly against Common Core math, which focused on . . . um, well, students learning how to think rather than simply memorizing formulas.

These changes are confusing, especially if your math skills come from memorizing the times tables from those charts in the back of Pee-Chee folders.

New math, Common Core, traditional math: Which is best? I'm not sure, but one type of math is harder to understand than any of those.

Toilet paper math.

If you pay attention at the store, you recognize the problem. Look at the toilet paper section and your brain goes fuzzy.

Of course, there are simple packs of four, six or 12 rolls. But then the math comes in.

Some packages say, "18 rolls = 54 rolls," implying that each toilet paper roll is worth three regular rolls. OK, I get that.

But another says, "12 rolls = 42 rolls."

Another says, "18 rolls = 56 rolls."

Another says, "6 rolls = 15 rolls."

What the heck? I know enough about math to know that to solve for x in 6x = y, you divide y by 6 (I've already lost some of you. Hang in there!). If six rolls = 15 rolls, each roll must be worth 2.5 regular rolls. If 18 rolls = 56 rolls, each roll must be worth 3 regular rolls. If 12 rolls = 42 rolls, each roll must be worth . . . let me get my calculator out . . . 3.5 rolls.

(Side point: Suddenly, I'm wondering if "roll" is spelled correctly. It looks wrong. Should it be "role?" No. It's roll. Rollllll. Rooolllllll. Now I can't keep saying it in my brain. Roll.)

Back to the column: At first, I presumed it was simple. If a toilet paper company was advertising that 12 rolls = 24 regular rolls, it considers single-ply toilet paper a "regular roll" and is offering the two-ply variety. Other than the fact that no one buys single-ply toilet paper for their house (I believe it's only used in public restrooms), that made sense . . . until the math didn't work. If "12 rolls = 42 rolls," do they somehow have 3.5-ply toilet paper? What does a half-ply sheet look like? (For that matter, why is it "ply"? And is it really "ply?" Now I'm saying the word "ply" over and over in my brain.)

Perhaps it's not the number of plies, it's the number of sheets. Maybe a "12 rolls = 42 rolls" package of toilet paper has 3.5 times as many sheets. Probably not, because having three times as many sheets would make the roll much, much bigger (more math: the roll gets bigger with more sheets. And more sheets of more ply? And again, what is a ply?)

OK, I looked up ply and still don't really understand the specifics, but it appears that toilet paper only goes to three-ply. Of course, that's what they thought about razors before Gillette started adding more and more blades and now we have (I'm guessing) a shaving kit with 11 blades to make sure you get the smoothest shave possible.

So once you get past a multiplier of three (for instance, "12 rolls = 42 rolls"), it's more sheets, right?

But back to the ply question: Why haven't the big toilet paper manufacturers realized that the best way to add quality is to add a fourth or fifth ply? You could do a five-ply toilet paper with twice as many sheets and you'd be able to have a 12-roll package that is equal to . . . hold on, I'm calculating . . . OK, carry the two . . . 120 rolls! You might not need to get another package for months and months.

Of course, there comes a point where you add so many plies that it becomes a washcloth and you already have those and the thought is disgusting and never mind.

But how about that new math?

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

An ancient, revolutionary goal to make 2025 a memorable year

Why will we remember this year?

I have a bold proposal, but first, let's set the stage: Today is the first Sunday of a year for which we'll have important memories – because every year creates important memories: Some good, some bad, some silly.

Of course, we tend to remember big news events from the year: For 2024, for instance, it was the felony conviction, attempted assassinations and ultimate return to the presidency of Donald Trump; the explosion of women's basketball; the continued rise of artificial intelligence and the two major hurricanes that hit the Southeastern United States.

But we also remember years personally. The year we graduated from high school. When we got married. When we got divorced. When someone close to us died. When we got promoted. When we were unemployed. When we got cancer. When we bought a house. When we lost our home.

What was your biggest memory from 2024? And for what will 2025 be remembered? 

Back to the big picture, because it connects to the small picture: As a nation, we're entering uncharted territory with the political and social implications of the most recent presidential election and a deeply divided nation. For some of us, that filters down to deeply divided families and neighborhoods.

My best (and most optimistic) guess is that the repercussions won't be as bad as the worst fears of many Americans and not as great as the greatest hopes of many Americans. Because that's how politics and life and social change works. We expect sweeping changes and usually get a compromise and gradual change.

The past few years have been tough and I'm far from alone (on either side of the political spectrum) in decreasing my focus on political news and social media after the election. My life has been fine.

That's a good reminder that national politics are not a priority for most of us. Most of us are busy living our lives and doing jobs, raising kids, coaching teams, doing hobbies and connecting with friends (or wondering why we aren't doing it). We're not spending all of our time thinking about political issues.

However, the past few years saw an increase in scenarios where we find out that someone we like supports a candidate or political party we detest and we feel conflicted. Maybe we start considering them an enemy. We think they're stupid or hateful or naive. We start to believe the worst about them.

We shouldn't. We can hold a vastly different stance on a political issue than me and neither of us is necessarily evil. We just disagree.

So, finally, here's one goal for 2025: Let's make an effort to celebrate what we have in common. Let's make an effort to love others. Let's not assume the worst of people with whom we disagree.

Help someone who makes your life difficult. Spend more time listening with the goal of understanding, rather than devising a counterargument. Interpret the actions of others most graciously, rather than in the most critical way.

The other day, I heard the old Don Henley song, "The Heart of the Matter" and the lyrics apply to 2025:

Ah, these times are so uncertain, there's a yearning undefined and people filled with rage. We all need a little tenderness, how can love survive in such a graceless age?

Here's how: By being gracious. By making 2025 the year we give others the benefit of the doubt. By spending the next 12 months doing good to others regardless of whether we think they "deserve" it.

If that sounds familiar and you want something a little deeper than a 1989 song by the former drummer for the Eagles, consider this:

Jesus said to love our enemies and to pray for those who persecute us. He said to serve others, not to look to be served.

That's a good recipe to make your 2025 better: Grace and servanthood, despite all the craziness elsewhere.

Wouldn't it be remarkable if at the end of 2025, that's what we remembered from our lives? That's my Project 2025.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

Survey of why we don't have dream job reveals men are simpletons

Never really getting a shot at your dream job – being the lead singer of a rock band or playing professional sports or being a movie star – isn't your fault. It's the fault of . . . fate? An unfair world? I don't know, but it's not because you lack the skills or motivation to do your dream job.

It's not your fault.

That's one of the conclusions from a survey conducted by Voice Nation that revealed that only 8% of Americans work their dream job. According to the survey, financial barriers, lack of opportunities and personal obligations are among the major factors holding people back.

If it weren't for those (and other) barriers, you'd be on your way to hosting a late-night talk show on network TV or being the radio voice of the San Francisco Giants or playing point guard in the NBA (three of my childhood dream jobs).

The folks who conducted the survey broke down the top five dream jobs by gender for those who answered the survey.

The top five dream jobs for men are entrepreneur (10%), professional athlete (9%), musician or singer (8%), engineer (6%) and pilot (5%).

For women, the top dream jobs are entrepreneur (9%), veterinarian (8%), teacher (7%), doctor (6%) and artist (6%).

The first thing: Men are goofballs. Do 9% of us really think we could be a professional athlete and 8% think we could be a musician or singer? What are we, 7 years old? Women are more reasonable, with all of their "dream jobs" available if you are able to pursue them (and are smart enough). Two of the top three men's dream jobs are fever dream jobs.

Now, the barriers. Here's what we said is keeping us from having our dream jobs, in order. Financial constraints (33%), lack of opportunities (22%), family obligations (20%), fear of failure or lack of self-confidence (18%), health issues (16%). If you're a mathematician (a dream job!), you realize that adds up to more than 100%, so obviously people could choose more than one barrier.

Before going any further, let me talk briefly to the 17% of men whose dream job is professional athlete or musician/singer. Just a hint, that the reason you don't have that job probably isn't because of financial constraints or a lack of opportunity or even family obligations. Here's the real reason: YOU AREN'T GOOD ENOUGH. ALMOST NOBODY IS. THAT'S WHY IT THOSE PEOPLE ARE STARS.

OK. Got it? I'll concede that it's possible someone reading this could have been a professional musician or athlete if not for an obstacle. No, never mind. I won't concede that. It's not true. YOU'RE NOT A PROFESSIONAL ATHLETE OR ROCK STAR OR PROFESSIONAL RAPPER BECAUSE YOU'RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH AT IT!

The point of the survey was to identify dream jobs and examine why we think we don't have them. That's not why we don't have them, it's why we think we don't have them.

We tend to blame outside sources, but let's be real: I'm not a lawyer because it seemed too hard. I'm not the Giants broadcaster because I'm not good enough. I'm not an NBA point guard because I'm too old (that's the only reason. Really.). I'm not a cowboy because I'm afraid of horses. I'm not the host of a late-night TV show because I'm not clever enough nor attractive enough.

I'm not good enough for my dream jobs.

I'm not saying we should all have jobs that suck. I like my job. I loved being a sports editor and newspaper journalist (a dream job of mine). You should pursue what you like – or at least something you can learn to enjoy.

But the idea that we could all have our dream jobs if it just weren't for those pesky family obligations or financial constraints is ridiculous. Most of us don't have our dream job because very, very few people have jobs that we consider dream jobs.

AND GUYS, QUIT THINKING YOU'D BE A PROFESSIONAL ATHLETE OR FAMOUS MUSICIAN IF YOU JUST GOT A FAIR CHANCE. YOU AREN'T GOOD ENOUGH AT IT.

Sorry for bursting your bubble. That's one of my dream jobs, too. Bubble-burster for dumb guys.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

Masking? Electrical? Scotch? Ranking the top eight types of tape

As we near the end of Scotch tape season (Christmas, the high holiday for the Scotch tape industry, is Wednesday!), there are two things I've learned:

• You capitalize "Scotch," even though it was originally a pejorative term. It was used in the 1930s to suggest miserliness: The tape name was inspired by someone complaining that the bosses who manufactured tape were cheap.
• It's a brand name. Unless it's made by the people at Scotch Brands, the tape we think of as Scotch tape is called cellophane tape.

A third thing: Scotch tape is only the second-best type of tape. It's valuable for wrapping gifts, holding pieces of paper together and even getting lint of clothes, but it's not the best tape type (say that three times fast!).

How are tapes ranked? Good question. The top eight popular variations after three honorable mentions: Tape measures, measuring tape (I didn't realize until this moment how those types of tape have names that are just reverses of each other) and that scourge of elementary school fears, tapeworms.

The top eight:

8. Two-sided tape. This variation of cellophane tape seemed amazing the first time I saw it as a kid. Then I tried to use it and couldn't make it work right. It stuck to my fingers, eyelids and shoes. It's supposedly better than looping Scotch tape with the sticky out, but it isn't. All flash, little usefulness. 

7. Tan masking tape. I differentiate masking tape types. This can be used for painting but is better for taping things on the wall without fear of peeling off paint. Masking tape is also versatile, a good substitute for Scotch tape and and emergency backup for the superior blue masking tape (see below).

6. Electrical tape. The black, shiny tape is very use-specific (to cover and/or insulate cables, wires or other materials that conduct electricity). That makes it valuable, but electrical tape can be used for other things (particularly by kids who can't find duct tape and use electrical tape to, for instance, tape up their bike seat or secure something heavy). 

5. Cassette tape. OK, not an adhesive tape, but it's a type of tape, right? Music on cassette tapes was amazing because it made music portable! You could bring a tape recorder (or boombox or Walkman or whatever you had, depending on the era) and listen to music. You could replace the balky 8-track player (another type of tape that just missed this list) with a mobile player. And "fixing" a tape after it was "eaten" by the player required a pencil, wits and nerves of steel.

4. Packing tape. While I was writing this, Mrs. Brad used packing tape to wrap up something for her business, at one point startling me with the screech of the tape tearing. This is in the same category as electrical tape – a type with a specific use. I don't need it, but if you're shipping something, you do.

3. Blue masking tape. When someone says to "tape off" an area because they're painting, they usually mean to use the blue masking tape. At least I think so. I consider blue the Cadillac of masking tape and the fact that you can use this and then freely paint a wall – and wind up with straight lines – is fantastic.

2. Scotch. Or, of course, cellophane tape. Great for connecting paper, great for holding light-weight things on the walls and most importantly, widely available. You can get this at a drug store, grocery store, business supply store and perhaps even a pizza parlor or bar. I can only assume. We have backups of this because I generally buy three at a time.

1. Duct tape. Two things are true: 99% of us have never used duct tape on a duct, because we don't deal with ducts; also, every home needs to have a roll of duct tape available. It can hold virtually anything in place (or at least that's what we think when we use it), it's fairly easy to use and a roll has a lot of tape on it. I love duct tape, the LeBron James of tape.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

How well do you know Solano County? Take this quiz!

We love holiday traditions. Eggnog. Christmas carols on KOIT radio. Forgetting where you parked your car at the mall. "Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer" on TV. Salvation Army bell ringers at the store.

And the annual Solano County quiz.

I've presented a quiz on the county every December since . . . I don't know, probably 2004? Let's say that. Let's say this year marks the 20th anniversary of the first such quiz!

It's a quiziversary! As always, what follows are 20 questions that reveal how much you know about Solano County. Some are geographical, some are demographical, some are commonsense, some are whimsical (I hope).

Twenty questions, so keep score. The answers follow, so don't look ahead.

QUESTIONS

1. Name the seven Solano County cities.

2. Within 50,000, how many people lived in Solano County in 2023, according to the Census Bureau?

3. What are the five counties that are geographically connected to Solano County?

4. Which city has a larger population, Fairfield, California, or Fairfield, Connecticut?

5. Within 400 miles, what's the distance from Fairfield, California, to Fairfield, Connecticut by road?

6. Who is the county administrator of Solano County?

7. Who was elected president the last time a majority of Solano County voters voted Republican?

8. Name the three members of the House of Representatives who will represent Solano County in the next Congress.

9. Why are "boor," "bore" and "boar" all pronounced the same, while "live" can be pronounced two ways?

10. What was the leading crop (in terms of dollar value) in Solano County in 2023?

11. Within 1,000, what is the combined inmate population (as of Dec. 4, 2024) of the two Vacaville prisons?

12. Within two degrees, what's the highest temperature ever recorded in Vacaville?

13. In terms of student population, what is the largest high school in Solano County?

14. What are the four interstate freeways in Solano County?

15. Who is the namesake of the city of Benicia?

16. In what two Solano County cities are there general aviation airports?

17. What was the name of the bank where Mr. Drysdale worked on "The Beverly Hillbillies?"

18. On average, in what month does Fairfield receive the most rainfall?

19. Which Solano County city has a larger population: Suisun City or Benicia?

20. Which of the following people is not from Vallejo: Raymond Burr, Joey Chestnut, G-Willikers, E-40, B-Legit.

ANSWERS

1. Benicia, Dixon, Fairfield, Rio Vista, Suisun City, Vacaville, Vallejo.

2. 449,218 (You get credit if you guessed 399,218 to 499,218).

3. Contra Costa, Sonoma, Napa, Yolo, Sacramento.

4. As of 2023, Fairfield, California (120,768) had nearly twice as many people as Fairfield, Connecticut (63,433).

5. 2,915 miles (answers from 2,415 to 3,315 considered correct).

6. Bill Emlin.

7. Ronald Reagan (1984).

8. Mike Thompson, Doris Matsui, John Garamendi.

9. Because English is a strange language.

10. Tomatoes, at about $101 million.

11. 5,796 (1,925 at the California Medical Facility, 3,871 at California State Prison, Solano).

12. It reached 115 degrees on Sept. 6, 2022.

13. Rodriguez High School in Fairfield (2,081 students as of 2023, narrowly edging out Vacaville High School).

14. 80, 680, 780, 505.

15. Gen. Mariano Vallejo's wife, Francisca Benicia Carillo de Vallejo.

16.  Rio Vista and Vacaville.

17. The Commerce Bank of Beverly Hills. It's not a Solano County question, but I amused/irritated Mrs. Brad by recently reciting that.

18. December (5.40 inches on average. February is second, January third).

19. Based on 2024 estimates, Suisun City's population of 28,498 is larger than Benicia's 26,203.

20.  I made up "G-Willikers," although it would be a cool nickname for an innocent, gullible rapper.

SCORES

15-20: Genius.

10-14: Pretty smart.

5-9: I'm sure you know something. Right?

0-4: Maybe you just moved here?

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

Infinite monkey theorem debunked, so a monkey typed my column

The old adage says that if you give typewriters to an infinite number of monkeys and give them enough time, they will eventually re-create the complete works of William Shakespeare.

It's not true – and not just because the monkeys would be outraged that you made them use typewriters. No, the "infinite monkey theorem" – used to describe randomness, probability, Shakespeare and why "The Monkees" was such a popular TV show – is not true because of something more fundamental.

Two mathematicians from Australia (I don't think they're the two guys in Air Supply, but I'm not 100% sure) seemingly disproved the idea. Not because monkeys aren't good at 1500s English or because they would get carpel tunnel syndrome or because Shakespeare's plays are copyrighted. They wouldn't do it because of time.

Maybe "an infinite amount of time" would work. Maybe. But Stephen Woodcock and Jay Falletta (now I'm pretty sure they're not the Air Supply guys) concluded that the time it would take is longer than the lifespan of our universe. So it wouldn't work.

The mathematicians made their calculations based on the idea that the universe will end sometime in the distant future in a way I don't understand but in a way that isn't similar to how life is mentioned in the song "In the Year 2525."

They concluded that if you took every living chimpanzee (about 200,000) and each typed one key per second for the rest of their lives (and their descendants did the same thing), they wouldn't come close to typing Shakespeare's full works.

In fact, it's worse: According to the research, there is only a 5% chance that any monkey would successfully type the word "bananas" in its lifetime. And the chance that one chimp would write a random sentence (such as "Davy Jones and Micky Dolenz weren't really monkeys") is one in 10 million billion billion, which is a lot of zeroes.

So it's very, very unlikely that even if they were given enough time, any monkeys could duplicate the Bard's work. But could they duplicate . . . the Brad's work? (GET IT?)

Seeking to answer whether a monkey could complete even a portion of what I write each week, I went through the website Upwork and hired a chimp named Stanley for one hour (just $25!), gave him a laptop and challenged him to type like me.

He was finished in 45 minutes (Stanley was efficient. I still paid him the entire fee). Here's what he wrote:

mmZZK mmba. Slow ride take it easy. dIIIddk sks. Bananarama. !!@ Everybodywaskungfufighting skjlkdfdd snap crackle pop. dkdkdkdkd tONywaderaidersbAd dds WeTakeOverIn2026.

I didn't see anything close to words there, although you could make the case that "on" is in the middle somewhere.

I've spent much of my life believing the "infinite monkey theorem," although I would mock it by saying there isn't a market for Shakespeare's works and that the monkeys would probably focus more on teen vampire novels. It turns out that monkeys aren't good writers and the real threat to writers is artificial intelligence.

That's too bad. I liked working with Stanley. In fact, as a final treat, I'll let him have the last word in this column.

YouWillBeOurSlavesIn2026.

Hah hah hah. It's sweet that he can't type real words. Just gibberish.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

Best Christmas traditions, from hanging lights to movies and more

Thanksgiving is behind us and so is Black Friday. We've already gone beyond Small Business Saturday and Cyber Monday is looming.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas!

While the cool kids are cynical about Christmas, saying how they don't like Christmas music or blasting the commercialization of the holiday or the awkward ways businesses navigate around a holiday based on a religious figure, most of us enjoy this time of year.

Part of that is because we have fond memories and fun traditions associated with Christmas.

That's the focus of this column: The best Christmas traditions. Not based on which is most important, but which is most widespread and which brings the most joy. 

There's an honorable mention list, too: Christmas sweaters. Christmas cards. Mistletoe (seems crazy, right?). Egg nog. Add anything that I left off.

But as my mentor Casey Kasem would say, let's start the countdown:

10. Christmas Eve. No pregame show on our holiday calendar equals this. In some ways, Christmas Eve tops Christmas, since it's a daylong buildup of excitement, rather than a morning explosion followed by a day-long reflection. Santa is coming! A holiday is here! What if it snows? Parents (and Santa) are busy wrapping gifts and getting ready.

9. Hanging lights. I separated this from decorating the tree, mostly because can be a hassle and dangerous (how many people make high-risk moves on a ladder to hook one more light over a hook?). Still, putting up lights means the holiday season is in full swing.

8. Leaving cookies for Santa. The final act of Christmas Eve for kids, the plate of cookies (or whatever your tradition) means its bedtime and Santa is about to come. If Christmas were an NFL game, the cookies-for-Santa moment is the last commercial before the opening kickoff.

7. Christmas movies and TV. "Elf." "Miracle on 34th Street." "A Christmas Story." "The Muppets' Christmas Carol." "It's a Wonderful Life." ("Die Hard?"). Of course you can watch these movies year-round, but for the 90% of us who are sane, these movies mark the Christmas season. So do the TV shows: "Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer," "Frosty the Snowman," "The Grinch Who Stole Christmas." An entire branch of Hollywood is built around Christmas shows.

6. Christmas shopping. Black Friday is the height of Christmas shopping and while an increasing number of us rely on Amazon to bring gifts, this is the magic for many people. City sidewalks, busy sidewalks dressed in holiday style. That's not just "Silver Bells," that's the greatest Christmas moment for many people. And merchants.

5. Driving to see Christmas lights. Candy Cane Lane is a local thing and an every-town thing. In almost every area of the country, there's a place (often called "Candy Cane Lane,") where neighbors decorate their homes, yards, cars and roofs. The rest of us cruise by and gaze in wonder at what they've done. If you live on such a street, thank you.

4. Church services. If you're a regular attendee or someone who attends only at Christmas and Easter, there's something magical about this time of year. The hope of the coming Messiah. The church decorations. The nice people. The sheer number of traditional Christmas carols that are actually Christian hymns.

3. Kids meeting Santa. Whether it's sweet or horrifying, this is a classic. The mall Santa or the Santa at the party or the relative who dresses up every year are (virtually) all great. The sweetness of a child's excitement or the panic of the kid who only sees an oversized man in red reaching for them are both tremendous.

2. Decorating the tree. This signifies the official start of the season for most of us. A dramatic decline in real Christmas trees largely removed Step 1 (driving to a Christmas tree lot and paying entirely too much for a tree that doesn't fit in your house), but the rest of decorating – getting out the decorations out, hanging the stockings, listening to Christmas music, finding the remote control that you accidentally packed last year and blamed your spouse for losing – is fantastic.

1. Christmas carols. There is an entire genre of music built around a specific holiday! It's filled with traditional music (how many hymns do you listen to outside of Christmas season?), rhythm-and-blues, pop, country, hip-hop and every other kind of music. Instrumentals. Acapella. Even an over-the-top "American neoclassical new-age music ensemble" like Manheim Steamroller gets a listen. Of all the traditions of Christmas, this is the best because it has the widest impact. Other than the birth of Jesus, I mean.

Enjoy the full holiday season.

Reach Brad Stanhope at Bradstanhope@outlook.com.

Teenagers aren't the only people who don't finish the job

It was a recurring problem when our sons were teenagers.

After taking a ridiculous amount of food into their rooms to eat – cereal, chips, leftover pizza, frozen taquitos, Mountain Dew – they would bring the dirty plates/bowls back to the kitchen, rinse them out . . . and then leave them on the counter, just above the dishwasher.

It was better than leaving the dirty dishes in their rooms, but they rarely finished the job. The hard part was bringing the plate to the kitchen and rinsing it. The last 10% of the job was putting it in the dishwasher. That part was easy.

It's not just teenagers who do 90% of the job and stop. There are many things in life where we do the equivalent of running 25 miles of a marathon and then stopping (that's an overstatement. Bringing a plate to the kitchen from your bedroom is not like running 25 miles).

Here are five common areas in which we do 90%, then inexplicably stop. And we don't have a good excuse.

Putting a new bag in the trash can. We take out the garbage – which often involves pulling out a bag of refuse, hauling it to wherever our larger garbage can is and returning – then neglect to put a new bag in the can. It's a problem, but it's worse if someone assumes there's a new bag in there and dumps a plate of spaghetti. We only did 90% of the job.

Filling a hand soap dispenser. If you use liquid soap, you know this routine: We get low on the hand soap, but we just keep dispensing smaller and smaller amounts. Pretty soon, it's spitting out a spray of soap. Do we think it will magically fill? The hard part was getting the dispenser and getting a refill, but we keep getting smaller and smaller amounts of hand soap without refilling it. We only do 90% of the job.

Emptying suitcases after a trip. We take the time to correctly pack a suitcase, then live out of it for a day, a week or 10 days. We return home, with a few items of clean clothes, a bunch of dirty clothes and some other stuff. We endure the travel, we make it home, we bring in the suitcase . . . and leave it. A few days later, there are still clothes in your suitcase. We only do 90% of the job.

Putting the new toilet paper on the roll. The hard part – if you can call it that – is getting the additional roll out of storage. But too often, we get a new roll, put it on the counter near the toilet, maybe use it, then walk away. It would have taken 10 seconds to put it on the roller. We were literally sitting there. We only do 90% of the job.

Folding clothes after laundry. It takes a couple of hours to wash and dry a load of laundry. We have to gather it (or take a hamper), put it in the washing machine, pull all those wet clothes out and transfer them to the dryer. Later, we load the dry clothes in a basket, take them to a bed or wherever we place them, dump them and . . . leave them. It takes three minutes to fold a load of clothes, but we do only 90% of the job.

There are probably other tasks you can think of – tasks where we routinely do the hard 90%, but don't finish it.

It would be like me writing this column and not having a final paragraph that wraps things up.

Maybe I'll do that later.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

Why we don't need to give our autographs anymore

In the early 1990s, I was working as a Daily Republic sports writer, covering an Oakland A's-Minnesota Twins baseball game at the Oakland Coliseum. About 90 minutes after the game – having interviewed the managers, some players and written a game story or column – I walked out of the stadium toward my car.

As always, a collection of fans – mostly young fans – waited outside the tunnel that led from the Coliseum clubhouses to the parking lots, looking for autographs.

"Hey, are you Scott Erickson?"

I didn't respond at first. Then I realized it was a kid. Maybe 10 or 11. Asking me if I was Scott Erickson, an outstanding pitcher for the Twins (he won 20 games one season). Scott Erickson was 6-foot-4, 220 pounds. I was 5-foot-10, 175 pounds. He was six years younger than me. But we both had dark hair, I guess.

The kid wanted an autograph!

"No, sorry," I said, feeling bad for the kid, but great for me. He thought I was a major league baseball player! I was a sports writer for a small newspaper who occasionally played city league softball (badly). But he thought I was somebody! I was like Navin Johnson in "The Jerk!"

That feeling stayed until a few days later when I covered my next game. Same thing. Game ended. I wrote my article and headed out to my car.

"Hey is . . . no, never mind. He's not a player." 

Different kid, very different (and accurate) perception. No autograph in either case, but one gave me the illusion that I had some sort of similarity to a 6-foot-4 guy who could throw a baseball 90 mph.

I didn't give any autographs because they weren't needed. Just like they're not needed for a credit card.

(Columnist trick! If you can't think of a way to lead into a subject, consider something similar, write about it and then add a paragraph to explain the correlation. In this case, follow that paragraph with a parenthetical paragraph explaining what you did. You learned something today.)

Did you know that you don't need to sign a credit card receipt? That when you go to a restaurant and put the meal on a card, when they bring you back the card, receipt and a list of suggested tips, you can write a total and not sign the card?

It doesn't matter and it hasn't mattered for a long time. In fact, Visa, Mastercard, Discover and American Express (all the major cards except Diners Club, which I just discovered still exists but is not issuing new cards in the United States) all dropped the requirements to sign.

In 2018. Six years ago.

We haven't needed to sign credit card receipts (or those credit card readers) for six years!

Still, many places expect us to sign for the card purchase to be "official." It doesn't make it official. Signatures are not even used to detect fraud. No one checks your signature against anything because the card companies stopped requiring signatures in 2018.

I don't know how that makes you feel. It makes me feel like we're continuing a social contract that's outdated, like not wearing white after Labor Day or men taking off their hats while indoors or using a duel to settle a dispute. We don't have to sign for our credit cards!

However . . . while I think it's a good idea for you to make a scene at a restaurant by refusing to sign, I'm not going to be the guy who tries to explain this to a waiter who brings me the ticket. I'm not going to tell the cashier at CVS that my signature isn't required because that went away six years ago. I'm not going to refuse to sign when I get a haircut and the stylist (or barber) asks me to sign.

I'm not going to do it for the same reason I wouldn't pretend to be Scott Erickson. I'm not doing it for the same reason I didn't tell the kid who said I wasn't an athlete that I could switch hit and ground out to second base from each side of the plate in softball.

Because it's sometimes easier to go along than to make someone uncomfortable.

It's what Scott Erickson would do, at least. And I don't know if I've ever told the story, but I was mistaken for him once ...

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

An invaluable lesson learned as a young McDonald's employee

The good folks at McDonald's say that one in eight Americans will work at one of their franchises at some point of their lives. You deserve a break today, so my high school stint at McDonald's can offset that statistic for you and six other people.

Politicians and business leaders have used their McDonald's experience to burnish their working-class appeal. Kamala Harris worked at McDonald's. Jeff Bezos worked at McDonald's. Heck, Jay Leno worked at McDonald's.

Brad Stanhope also worked at McDonald's. There, I learned one of life's most important lessons: Stay focused.

McDonald's was an important job for me. After losing my first two positions (including at a supermarket where I was fired by a boss who told me in the middle of the store that I didn't need to come in anymore), my confidence was shaky. Working at McDonald's allowed me to be around plenty of people, get training and realize that I wasn't (totally) incompetent.

I was a senior in high school, working at McDonald's in my hometown of Eureka. One of the roles I filled was being the guy who emptied garbage cans, cleaned the bathrooms and was a gofer for everyone. That wasn't all I ever did – I also took orders and repeatedly scalded my arms while making french fries – but on the winter night in question, I was the cleanup guy.

It was wet and cold around 8 p.m., which is typical for that area. The Pacific Ocean was a few blocks west of the restaurant, so it was foggy. As I remember it, there were just a handful of cars in the large parking lot.

I checked the three garbage cans spread around that massive parking lot. Being Eureka, there were always people wandering around. There was a substantial homeless population even then and some of those residents would look in the McDonald's dumpster, searching for food. That made sense because we would make the food, set a timer and throw it out after a certain period.

Anyway, I wandered the dark parking lot thinking of whatever a 17-year-old thought of in that era. Sports. Girls. School. "Welcome Back, Kotter." The Bee Gees. I grabbed one full bag of trash, went to another can and grabbed that bag. Then I walked to the dumpster, climbed up the short ladder, opened it and . . .

A GUY SPRUNG UP LIKE SOMEONE JUMPING UP FROM A CASKET.

OR MAYBE FROM A JACK-IN-THE-BOX.

I gasped and almost fell off the ladder. What the heck? 

The guy was equally surprised. He was dumpster diving, about to find some food when . . . some kid opened the lid and surprised him!

I didn't tell him to leave. I probably apologized for bothering him. I tossed the bag to the part of the dumpster away from him and told him it didn't have any good food.

I was mad at myself. I wondered if I screamed. I hoped I didn't make the guy feel bad. I was mad that the guy was there.

Nobody saw it. Nobody knew about it. I doubt I am the only employee of that or any McDonald's who had that experience. But it stuck with me: Always stay focused.

When Bezos or Harris or Leno talk about working at McDonald's, they probably don't think about nearly having a heart attack caused by a Jack-in-the-Dumpster experience when they were 17 and thinking how weird it was that John Travolta was in movies, too.

Yeah, I worked at McDonald's.

I made friends there, gained confidence and learned an important lesson: When putting trash in Dumpsters, always be cautious.

I'm lovin' it!

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.