So, this “100 / 8” thing. Sounds simple on paper, right? Just a bit of basic math. That’s what I thought when the task first landed on my desk. We had, let’s call them 100 “recognition units” – don’t ask – to distribute among 8 teams. My job was to figure out the “fair” way.
I started off, you know, logically. 100 divided by 8, that’s 12.5. Okay, can’t split a “recognition unit,” so some get 12, some get 13. I even drafted a little proposal: four teams get 13, four teams get 12. Seemed straightforward enough. I figured I’d be done by lunch.
Boy, was I wrong. The moment I floated this, the emails started. Then the “quick chats.” It turns out, “fair” is a very, very flexible word when “recognition units” are on the line. Suddenly, everyone became an expert in workload analysis and historical contributions.
You wouldn’t believe the arguments. It was like this:
- Team Alpha insisted their 12 units were actually worth more because their projects were “more critical.” How do you even measure that?
- Team Bravo said they deserved 13, no, maybe 14, because they picked up slack for someone else three months ago. The receipts were apparently invisible.
- Then there was Charlie, who argued that dividing by 8 was fundamentally flawed because their team was smaller, so per person, they were getting less, even if the team total was fine. My head started to spin.
- And let’s not forget Delta, who just flat out said, “This doesn’t feel right,” without any further explanation. Just a “vibe.”
I tried everything. I made spreadsheets. I drew diagrams. I even tried to get them all in a room, thinking maybe a bit of face-to-face would sort it. That just made it louder. People weren’t looking at the numbers; they were looking at what everyone else was getting. It was less about the 100 units and more about not being the one who got “less,” whatever “less” meant in their heads that day.
This whole mess reminded me of something completely different, from way back. I was helping out at a school fair, trying to give out 100 free balloons to, you guessed it, 8 different class stalls. Simple, right? Each stall gets 12, four get an extra one. But then one teacher said her kids were younger, so they needed more balloons to feel happy. Another said his stall was at the back, so he needed more to attract people. It ended with me just throwing the last dozen balloons in the air and letting them fight it out. Not my proudest moment, but honestly, less stressful than those “recognition units.”
Eventually, the “100 / 8” for the teams got resolved. Not because of elegant math, mind you. It was more like a ceasefire. A series of compromises, whispered deals, and a lot of grumbling. The final distribution probably looked nothing like 12.5 per team. It was a patchwork quilt of bruised egos and reluctant agreements. I just nodded and filed the paperwork. What else could I do?
It really hammered home a lesson for me. The simplest things, especially when they involve distributing something, anything, among people, are never really simple. The “8” in “100 / 8” isn’t just a number; it’s 8 different perspectives, 8 sets of histories, 8 unique ways of seeing the world. And the “100”? Well, its value changes depending on who’s looking. So much for simple division.
