The Problem with Word Problems by Davey Freedman
Samuel sold 48 notebooks in 3 days. Each day he sold 2 more notebooks than the previous day. How many notebooks did he sell each day?
Miss Daventry told me to please just stick to the facts of the question, but I could see what was going on here. Mr Chennell had always taught me to look for subtext, albeit he was an English teacher. Demand for notebooks would be patchy, so door to door sales would involve a lot of walking. Who uses notebooks, no-one, right? This must be dustbowl America. A man reduced to making a few cents from an attaché case full of little notebooks, the pleading look in his blue-green eyes infinitely more valuable than the rough paper jotters. Each day Samuel sold two more than the previous day. Such grit. Little Tommy at home with Mom, barely two months old and wheezing from the whooping cough. No money for medicine, but Samuel strode on in the searing heat, his scuffed leather loafers kicking up the dust into little vortices that vanished into the vastness.
Samuel met with harsh words and jutting chins of contempt, but there was something about the old man who shuffled to the screen door of the ricketiest house on the street. Samuel rested his hand on his hip, the case straining his other arm.
“Sir, I was wondering if you might oblige me to look just once at these fine jotters I have in my possession, which I’m able to pass on at a reasonable price?”
The old man sat heavily into the swing seat on his porch and stretched out his legs.
“I’ll take two off of your hands, young man. Times is hard.”
“Oh sure, thank you kindly. I can let you have them for 35 cents apiece if that’s agreeable to yourself today?”
The old man nodded and reached into his pocket.
“Sell many of ‘em?”
“Well, sir I done walked 18 mile since this morning and I believe this here will be the 18th book I sold. I only sold 16 yesterday. 14 day before on account of the distance. Come to think of it they was all… older folks like yourself if I may…”
“‘bout the size of it! One ol’ fogey every mile!” The old man found this inordinately funny and rolled sideways on his bench.
It was at that moment that Samuel understood his demographic and later went on to set up the Bakersfield Printing Corporation. Little Tommy made a full recovery and became CEO until his demise on the beaches of Normandy in 1945.
The marking system was so confusing. I was the only person in class to get the right answer and yet I received the lowest grade. Miss Daventry was incredibly cross with my lack of working out.
“I thought I had worked it through thoroughly, Miss!”
“You drew a CACTUS!!”
Davey Freedman is an artist blacksmith and writer of fiction and non-fiction. He has written books on blacksmithing as well as articles, short stories and theatre scripts.
Instagram – daveyfreedmanwriter
Illustration by Davey Freedman
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I love this story! I was laughing all the way down the road with Samuel, although he admittedly was not laughing. Adorable.