A post from Mark McCarthy:
My cousin Daniel tells a funny story from his first year of geological studies at Memorial University of Newfoundland in St. John’s. On the very first day of class, the professor was explaining the many techniques that are used to identify different rock types. Colour is an obvious indicator, and so are absorbency, texture, location, and so on. But one indicator the class didn’t guess, one that is probably least known to most people, is a rock’s weight. To emphasize his point, the professor passed several rocks around the classroom and asked the students to guess their weights. Daniel and his classmates picked up their samples and palmed them in wonder. They noticed that similar sized rocks could exhibit many varying weights. But with no point of reference, they shrugged and stated – “I don’t know – a pound? Maybe two?”
However, there was one young fellow who would lean forward in his chair, systematically cupping his rock. His second hand was settled in the crook of his elbow and he began lifting the rock, as if he was a body builder performing bench curls in the gym. After only two or three pumps, he would then pronounce the weight of the rock within an ounce of its actual measure.
“Two pounds, three ounces?”
Not only were his classmates amazed at the feat, so was his professor. He repeated the task several times with deadly, almost freakish accuracy. The professor had never witnessed such a skillset. He invited each of his colleagues from the adjacent offices and labs to enjoy the show; every bit as good as a circus act to them.
Of course, everyone was curious to how the boy developed such a wonderful talent. He didn’t appear to be a guy who spent much time in the gym, and who would bother working out with such small weights anyway. They asked if he’d ever worked in a mine, or if his parents were shopkeepers, perhaps running a bakery. Eventually the kid fessed up and explained his entertaining aptitude.
He had grown up in a small fishing community where he and his buddies spent their summers cutting cod tongues and selling them to the tourists by ‘the weight’ or as they called it, ‘the each’. Since tongues come in varying sizes, he was able to immediately calculate the most profitable option at the point of sale – making more money than anyone else on the wharf. This young man had displayed enough smarts that his manager suggested, actually insisted, that his parents send him off to university. Something they knew was worth its weight in gold!
Now that’s what I call tongue in cheek!
