Misc. Mental Musings
United Stats of America
S. G. Lacey
​
​
Intro:
2020 has been arguably the most important year for statistical analysis in the history of our nation. This boring and nerdy mathematical field has now been thrust into public conscious in myriad ways. Below are a few anecdotes of how common citizens have been exposed to more data than they ever dreamed.
Some have become experts, at least in their own minds, while others were completely overwhelmed. If you’re confused by the diagrams below, don’t worry, many of these depictions are difficult even for authorities in the given field to interpret. This shows how quickly numerical values can get complex, and plotted data manipulated, to covey a specific, convenient message.
Read and explore at your leisure, and don’t forget to check axes, quantities, titles, keys, etc.; the devil is in the details. Visual and analytic stimulus abounds these days, so keep your eyes open out there in this age of constant online media bombardment.
​
Statistician Sports Fan: January 26th – Los Angeles, CA
I rub my dark, heavy eyelids. The ocular orbs they protect are raw and red from frequent crying over the past few hours.
It’s late afternoon on what started out as a typical Sunday. Morning at church, big family meal for lunch, then some pick-up basketball in the park with my girlfriends. I was just starting in on my neglected math homework, when all the social media applications on my cellphone simultaneously erupted, and my world came crashing down. The joint TV press conference by the LA County police and fire departments confirmed the worst-case scenario.
Now several hours later, I still can’t believe the news is real. Kobe Bryant is gone.
Not only did Mr. Bryant die before his time, but his daughter, who is the same age as me, perished in the crash as well. That’s why the tragic helicopter accident this morning has hit me so hard.
Lying on my bed, I stare blankly at the ceiling, body and mind numb. Rather than the typical soft pastels and floral motifs which adorn most middle school girls’ rooms, my sanctuary has a much more focused color scheme, and athletic theme. The purple and gold of the Los Angeles Lakers basketball team.
I need to get out of this rut, and pay homage to Kobe’s accomplishments in life, rather than mourning his death. He was my idol, my mentor, and my guiding light. Even though we never met in person, I consider him one of my best friends.
In an era where professional athletes change teams like they’re trading cards, Kobe Bryant spent his entire 20-year NBA career with one team. My Los Angeles Lakers. Over this time, he amassed a portfolio of achievements that puts him in the upper echelon of NBA players all time. Granted, I’m a little biased.
Hoping to snap out of this funk, I go over to my bookshelf of Lakers official yearbooks, organized in chronological order, and spanning back to their inaugural 1960 season in Los Angeles. This collection was started by my grandfather, who worked as a vendor at the LA Memorial Sports Arena that initial season. I cherish these magazines, many of which are worn and fragile as a result of years of gentle, but frequent, handling.
I pull out the 1997-1998 team guide, Kobe’s 2nd season, which I know from memory. Flipping through, I reach #8’s page, which displays an African American kid only a half dozen years older than I am. Youthful exuberance is clearly evident on his facial expressions in the two large, action-shot, photos. The bio reports details of 6’7” tall, but only 210 pounds, speaking to unrefined, boyish figure he had when entering the league.
The team’s complete stats from the previous season, Kobe’s first, are printed in the back of the book. I instinctively flip to this page, suddenly sparked by an idea.
Grabbing my notebook journal, which is adorned with large sticker of the classic Lakers italicized capital letter logo in purple over a stylized gold basketball, I find an empty page of lined paper. I write “YEAR” at the top, left corner of the sheet, then enter abbreviations for the most well-known, and critical, basketball statistics across the top. “G” for games. “FG%” for field goal percentage. “REB” for rebounds. “AST” for assists. “STL” for steals. “PTS” for total points. “AVG” for average points per game. Putting the pen down, I survey my work, blocky capital letters, fairly evenly spaced, with squiggly lines underneath.
Looking at the yearbook, I enter the tallies from Kobe’s rookie season in large loopy digits. “71”, “.417”, “132”, “91”, “49”, “539”, “7.6”. Not a bad NBA start for a scrawny 18-year-old kid drafted right out of high school.
I’m sure I could find this information tabulated online at the Lakers official website, or just check the back of a basketball card from Kobe’s last season, of which I have several. However, this manual process is cathartic, and keeps my mind occupied.
One by one, I go through each successive Los Angeles Lakers yearbook, finding the Kobe Bryant line in the data table, and adding his seasonal totals to my paper list. It’s like reliving his career, even though I was only alive for half of these campaigns.
Certain values stand out as I execute my work, combining with, and reinforcing, my memorized knowledge of Kobe’s professional basketball career.
Eclipsing the 400 mark for both rebounds and assists, while collaborating with Shaquille O’Neil during the 2001-2002 season, which culminated in this dynamic duo propelling the Lakers to an NBA Championship 3-peat.
Over 100 steals every season of the 2000’s decade besides one, resulting in 9 of his 12 total All-Defensive team awards. 35.4 average points per game in the 2005-2006 campaign; this astounding scoring output led the league that year. As team captain and leader, he played in all 82 Lakers games in back to back seasons, winning the regular season MVP in 2008, then Finals MVP in 2009.
Not all the data is promising. Most notable is the decline below .400 in shooting percentage his last few seasons. I know from watching every game on TV those final years, or live when my parents were lucky enough to score us tickets, this deterioration corresponded with a string of injuries, as well as an excessive increase in 3-point attempts.
Closing the 2015-2016 yearbook, front cover fittingly adorned with my favorite basketball player executing a high-flying, windmill dunk, and the caption “KOBE @ 20”, I return this magazine to its assigned slot. I peruse the columns of numbers I’ve generated. This single page of digits summarizes the Black Mamba’s accomplishments on the court during his impressive 20-year career.
However, Mr. Bryant’s impact is so much broader than just as a basketball player, a fact that I can attest to personally. His charitable giving, his relentless work ethic, his local community support, his upstanding character. No doubt these actions have influenced countless young girls and boys like me.
Opening up my tablet computer, I start tallying the columns with the calculator app, entering the summed career totals into a new digital document. Next, I’ll need to put these values into an artsy format, with a few memorable pictures, a slick font, and the mandatory purple and gold highlights. If this project looks respectable, maybe I’ll have my mom print and frame it. A valuable additional to my Kobe Bryant bedroom shrine.
Though he died way too early, I’m committed to making sure Kobe’s amazing legacy lives on. The “8” and “24” Lakers jerseys, the only NBA player with two retired numbers, already hang in the Staples Center rafters in his honor for all to see. This project will be my own little tribute.
​
Broke Bakery Owner: March 30th – Chicago, IL
I’m sitting on a padded black stool pulled up to a speckled white Formica countertop, a heaping pile of documents laid out in front of me. As a 3rd generation Italian, I still balance the financial books the same way as my grandfather, who immigrated here from Tuscany nearly a century ago. Everything is on paper. I don’t understand these newfangled computer systems anyways.
Looking up, I peruse the beautiful space. The décor is distinctly European. Small, intimate tables cover the black and white tiled dining space, with various framed artwork, newspapers, and maps from the homeland lining the walls. My family’s heritage, and hopefully our future, is housed here in this Italian delicatessen and grocery.
In glass display cases, sit dense rows of lovely cured meats: varying shades of tan, pink, brown, and red, all perfectly marbled with streaks or specks of white fat, depending on the cut. Each offering is clearly labelled with both the type and per pound price on handwritten labels, meant to attract, and inform the customer. These proteins are ready to be sliced, and eaten. Sooner, rather than later, would be preferable.
Adjacent to the extensive charcuterie, are troths filled with salads, antipastos, and other savory side dishes. At least they should be. Despite my seated position, which puts the extent of my short frame, topped by a balding round head, about even with the case, I know many of these slots are empty. Lonely, stainless steel chafing dishes, waiting to be filled.
Behind the front-of-house countertop, is the kitchen area. Here fine wire metal racks sit, idle and bare. This is the saddest, and most, telling element of our deli. Considering the 2-day shelf life on the quality fresh bread we make here, and the significant downturn in patrons, we’re only baking once per day, a significant reduction from our usual, near-continuous, oven operation.
I pick up an order pad, which is now serving an inventory management system. Lord knows, we have plenty of these tear-away sheets to spare right now.
Perusing the list, my heart sinks, along with my future business prospects. Half of the items are crossed out in heavy, thick lines, along with the wholesale price, and potential sales revenue, for each product. My handiwork, as each evening I inspect the remaining offerings, and make the difficult decisions on what food products are still viable, and what we need to throw out, many at substantial monetary loss.
Remaining in the store’s dwindling inventory are many aged stables: Prosciutto Toscano ham, Parmigianino Reggiano cheese, Bresaola della Valtellina beef. Makes sense, shoe leather goes bad faster than these cured products. Also, most of the grocery’s dry goods are imported directly from Italy. Having already survived the trans-Atlantic journey, products like sweet peppers in sealed glass jars, and sweet cookies in airtight plastic bags, fortunately have a lengthy shelf life.
Despite the bold cross marks on the notepad, I still know from memory what has been lost: Dijon mustard deviled eggs, mascarpone stuffed green olives, romaine salad with anchovy dressing. At least the Giardiniera vegetables are holding up, on account of the vinegar and oil marinade.
The one bright spot recently has been the wine sales, with pick-up orders coming in by the case, rather than the typical bottle or two. Our collection is extensive, and uniquely Italian, which helps provide differentiation. Apparently, people are spending more time at home, with a wine glass in their hand.
Still, if customers aren’t able to come back to the store soon, more of these excellent provisions, and the associated income, will vanish. I’m not a scientist, but know every perishable product has its limits, regardless of storage conditions.
The other item that seems perishable these days is the business’s bank account. Rent, insurance, salaries, contracts, utilities. These bills continue to pour in relentlessly, even as revenue has dried up.
Sure, the U.S. Government just passed an aid package, which included over 300 billion to support small businesses, but those funds were swallowed up within days. It takes me longer than that just to get in touch with the family banker.
Everything moves slower, and is more personal, here in Little Italy, where the language of communication is powerful body hugs, delicate kisses on the cheek, and boisterous close talking. Not the best model for these times of pandemic crisis, and social distancing.
Per mandates from the Illinois’s governor, a state of emergency was issued on March 9th, followed by a strict stay-at-home order on March 21st. Classified as a grocery, and thus allowed to remain open, I initially figured that our deli and bakery would generally continue with business as usual. This estimation proved very wrong.
In the week plus since that lockdown decree, we have seen our customer traffic, and thus sales, drop by over 90%. Without the multitude of office workers flooding into the city daily, our main source of clientele, be it for a quick breakfast snack, or dinner supplies on the way home, has disappeared. Plus, the University of Illinois at Chicago campus, just blocks from our shop, is now a ghost town.
The medical district adjacent to Little Italy is still bustling, however not with the usual lively and energetic passion of successful healing, but instead with the scared buzz of patients and doctors fighting for their collective lives. Not an atmosphere conducive to taking a relaxing lunchtime stroll to pick up a fresh deli sandwich.
We’re going to need to drop prices, ignore profits, and get creative. All that matters right now is cash flow.
I have no idea how these modern social media platforms work, but with everyone sitting at home on their phones and computers, that approach seems like the best way to reach our clientele, to let them know what dire straits this specific small local business is in. I’m going to need to call up my niece, and have her help out with an online system for ordering, plus some clever web posts. Fortunately, big Italian families like ours are always ready to come together when times get tough.
Punching the various values from the tall stack of bills into my archaic, solar-powered, calculator with a hairy finger, I write a five-figure sum at the bottom of my ledger in red ink, led by an ugly dash denoting a negative sign.
We need to sell some product “rapido.” Or else this 70-year-old family deli is out of business.
​
Armchair Accountant Banker: April 25th – Indianapolis, IN
I must have one of the most boring jobs in the world. Fortunately, it provides stable income, with minimal oversight. Plus, I get to work from home.
While the rest of the country was thrown into workplace turmoil this spring, I was already set up with a comfortable, and functional, desktop station at my residential office, in the Avon suburbs west of Indiana’s capital city. At most, I’ve driven into my employer’s downtown high-rise office once a week over the past few years, to help with a pending audit, or pull together documents for an acquisition.
Often, it seems like our leadership prefers to have us bean counters stay away from corporate headquarters, which houses 5k employees. That’s fine with me, as I’m content spending nearly my entire life at home.
I’m not a big exerciser, besides the occasional round of golf, or traveler, besides the occasional motorsports event. Still single at age 48, with no prospects, or desires, to change that status, most days the extent of my verbal interactions are with my aging, perpetually hungry, cat, Petty.
It’s just after noon on a wet spring day; summer is still struggling to materialize here in the Midwest. While checking in on my investment accounts over a bowl of microwaved canned soup, per my usual mid-day routine, I see a news prompt flash across the screen.
The headline proports a new Congressional support package, with a $480 billion price tag. What’s another half-trillion dollars amongst friends, especially after the amount of economic stimulus that has been injected into the system thus far this year.
I wonder what the government’s total fiscal and monetary printing bill is for the year to date? Time for some online research. If my superiors are savvy enough to monitor my computer activity, which they aren’t, and bold enough to call me out, which they won’t, I can easily justify my actions as continued financial learning.
What starts as a 5-minute exploration, turns into multiple hours of research. It’s amazing how much national economic data is accessible online. The deeper I dive, the more intrigued I become. I can’t pull myself away from this goldmine of facts and figures.
I never realized how intricate, analytical, and convoluted, the U.S. Government banking policies are. Granted, the American economy is a complex system, even before considering how it ties to the rest of the globe.
Finally taking a momentary break, I pull the thick horn-rimmed glasses off my face, and rub the flabby bags of skin under my eyes, which are strained and overstimulated from the effort required to read tiny numbers on dense downloaded spreadsheets. I take a large swing of coffee, then nearly spit the acrid, room temperature liquid back in my cup. Time for a refill.
As I walk to my kitchen, I ponder my life’s work to date. By my estimation, I’ve spent 8 plus hours a day staring at similar computer screen graphics for the past 30 years: participating in the early stages of the computer programming revolution in college, my career at the USPTO as a patent examiner, and now the last decade in this Fortune 500 company financial accounting gig.
That comes out to over 87k hours, a significant chunk of my awake, adult life, staring at alphanumerical pixels on an electronic screen. Granted, the display technology has changed quite a bit since my entry into the industry, using MS DOS and FORTRAN, but the strain on the eyes remains.
Hopefully, in a few years I can retire. But then what? My entire life is based around work. My parents have already passed away, and my extended family, the few who remain, are sprawled across the country, and not particularly fun to hang out with anyways.
This government budget analysis seems interesting, and fits my analytical mind. Maybe there’s something I could do in the U.S. Treasury Department. I’ve haven’t been back to Washington, DC since my time at the Patent Office, but based on my research today, it seems like the leadership in our nation’s capital could use some help with basic math.
Armed with a fresh cup of coffee, generously doctored with cream and sugar, I plop back into my plush desk chair, and dive back into the numbers.
My systematic, accounting mind keeps coming back to one item. Positive and negative. Revenue and expenses. Balance the books. If the U.S. Government was a company, they would be in a terrible financial position. And yet, the economy seems to be functioning reasonably well, notwithstanding the recent demand side shock as a result of lockdown mandates, which drastically changed consumer actions.
The columns of numbers I’m currently pouring over continue to confirm this point. Our current deficit is expanding rapidly. Best to put the information into a graphical arrangement to confirm. It often helps to change the format of the data to get a different perspective.
3 minutes later, extracting a few rows of copied cells, and making a few deft commands in Excel, I have an alternate perspective on the values. However, the conclusion in the same.
Our country is piling up an absurd amount of government debt.
When presented visually, the current state of affairs is even more obvious, and disturbing, at least to an accountant, who’s spent most of his life squaring assets and liabilities.
The plot I’ve created, taking Federal budget data scrapped off the internet all way back to World War II, is striking. My first conclusion is that our government has a long history of spending more than they collect.
Across the 80-year time span I’m examining, there are only 5 short blips upward, where the value goes positive, and rises above the horizontal axis, representing a budget surplus, the last taking place back in 2000. More telling are the multiple pronounced drops downward into deficit, some occurrences lasting more than a decade. Flanking the right and left edges of the plot are two deep, sharp peaks, resembling vampire fangs in a toothy grin.
One outlier represents World War II, a time when all fiscal austerity went out the window as Americans, joined with their allies in Europe, tried to protect their very way of life. A reasonable time to break a few budgetary rules.
The more recent plunge into the red occurred this year, and while not as deep as the deficit of World War II, is nothing to sneeze at. Pushing 20% of GDP, this debt spike has already doubled what incurred during the Great Recession in 2009. Considering the global COVID-19 pandemic, and the resulting economic impact, it’s not surprising the U.S. Government has acted with an essentially warlike fiscal, and monetary, response. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
It’s always nice to confirm a suspicion, even a worrisome one. I would e-mail these findings over to a few colleagues in our corporate finance department to get their thoughts, but this national economy research is likely too nerdy, and too trivial, for even them to enjoy.
This budget issue seems like a growing problem. However, there’s not that I can do much about it, unless I get ambitious. Why not check the options?
Opening a new window, I search out and navigate the U.S. Government jobs page. It turns out the closest Federal Reserve banks are in Chicago, Cleveland, and St. Louis, all about equidistant from me, but all over 200 miles away. That doesn’t help much, I’m pretty content in my humble Indy abode.
Having satisfied my research itch, I flip back to another Excel tab, where the column of business invoices extends to infinitum down and out of view on the screen. Petty lets out a loud snort, as if sensing my boredom, before curling back up for another nap on the carpeted office floor.
Back to my mundane reality. Someone’s got to keep these corporate budgets in order at least.
​
Market-Timing Millennial Programmer: June 5th – San Francisco, CA
My fingers fly across the keyboard, my mind instinctively processing the characters on the 17” computer screen which sits on my lap. I can feel the heat of the computer processor passing through the holey mesh of my basketball shorts. I haven’t worn pants, or put on a dress shirt, in a few months now.
Music emanates from the device’s speakers, the recognizable deep beats and slick lyrics of Drake. These tunes help keep my energy up, and my focus on.
This is the most fun I’ve had programming in a while. My performance directly dictates my compensation. Unfortunately, rather than a stable tech industry coding salary, I’m just as likely to have to pay for my time as to earn money. It’s taken some time to learn the new keystrokes, trading Python commands for NASDAQ stock tickers, but now I’m becoming fluent.
They say the market combines the collective knowledge of the masses, but our relatively small Wellstreetbets online Reddit forum seems to be taking over the investing landscape. Sharing stock tips, coordinating on timing, hitting predetermined strike points. It’s like we’re running our own little hedge fund.
I toggle to the pricing screen on my investment platform of choice. Robinhood. What used to seem like a jumbled matrix of prices and dates is now clear and easy to interpret. Puts and calls. Selling and buying. Bid and ask. This is the language of stock options trading which I’m starting to become well versed in.
Granted, all the Greek letters are probably unnecessary. Delta, gamma, theta, vega, rho. This terminology made the space so unapproachable until I read more, and realized it’s just a matter of simple probabilities.
My logical mind, rooted in mathematics, quickly set up simple programming commands to convert these convoluted decimal values into more digestible content that I can relate to my other favorite pastime. Sports gambling. Not that there’s any games to bet on currently. Implied volatility becomes implied odds. Further out call options become parlays. Expense ratios are the house rake.
Hence, I’m able to get my gambling fix in the stock market, all while sitting on the same living room futon where I used to watch the games on ESPN, before every sport in the world got shut down. This folding mattress also serves as my bed; rents are absurd here in the Bay area, so a small studio is all I can afford, even with my 6-figure salary.
Unfortunately, it’s lunchtime on Friday, which means there’s only a few hours of trading left before the markets close at 1 PM Pacific Time. I used to relish the start of the weekend, and the freedom it brought to get away from my stressful work in the technology sector.
Now, I find myself looking forward to Monday mornings, when the U.S. stock markets reopen, offering new opportunities. I’m going to have to start exploring overseas equities to broaden my trading window. Or Bitcoin, that changes hands electronically 24 -7, thus providing constant stimulation.
Thanks to the money saved from not hitting the bars multiple nights per week, I’m flush with cash for my investing activities.
Turning my attention back to the matter at hand, I check the recent price movement. I’ve got the daily stock chart of HTZ up on my screen, tracking each new market tick every 60 seconds.
I bought into HTZ under a dollar per share, at $0.97 to be exact, yesterday morning. I like setting my limit orders to random numbers. The stock value is already pushing $3.00, a triple off my purchase price. That comes out to a 15,600% return, if compounded annually. Not bad, I’m going to be rich in no time.
Considering there are no trading commissions on Robinhood, I have no qualms about moving in and out of positions multiple times daily, leveraging up, or scaling back, based on the observed price action. And group consensus.
Looking down at my phone, I review the Reddit blog activity, double checking the ticker symbol and target price. On these small companies, if we work as a team, we’re able to move the entire stock market, thus achieving the desired pricing, and profit. It looks like we’re aligning for a final push higher into the weekend.
I zoom the chart out, using two fingers on my laptop’s touch screen, trying to estimate where the stock price could be headed. Sure, Hertz Global Holdings declared bankruptcy last week, the entire economy is shut down, and business travel permanently impaired. Not a promising business landscape for the car rental firm. But corporate fundamentals are only a small piece of the puzzle, based on my limited trading experience.
The long-term trends are certainly down, as shown by the 50-day and 200-day moving averages, displayed in blue and red, respectively, on my chart. Makes sense, considering this stock traded at north of $20 before the mid-March pandemic. Besides these basic price tendencies, other key metrics like trading volume, relative strength, and convergences/divergences are all displayed. The result, a set of three stacked line charts, all with the same string of dates along the X-axis, would be overwhelming for many. However, each line, bar, and digit serve a purpose for my analysis.
Yep, it’s time to buy into this rally with some out-of-the-money calls. We’re headed higher for sure.
Content with my trade, I hit the button to confirm. The purchase is executed instantaneously. It’s amazing how quick and efficient it is to move money around using these online investing platforms. According to the calculation spreadsheet I’ve created, the odds suggest this trade only has an 18% probability of paying off. But I’m confident. Heck, you only live once, and I’ve got money to burn.
I toggle back to the daily stock chart, which shows a steady pattern of green bars rising up and to the right on the screen. The gamble is paying off already. Bankruptcy smankrutpcy.
​
Frustrated Fishing Meteorologist: August 24th – New Orleans, LA
I grab the remote with my heavily calloused right hand. These fingers are more comfortable handing rough hemp rope, as opposed to the smooth plastic of the TV controller. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I got to sit in this recliner, and watch TV without distractions from my wife, or the three kids from her previous marriage, who I’m now half responsible for.
Granted, it’s 9 AM on a Monday, usually I would be on the water. But with a series of storms moving through the Gulf, and the resulting state-of-emergency mandates, I’m stranded at home.
Bored, I flip to the local news. I’m anxious to get back out on my boat as soon as possible, provided it doesn’t blow away in the pending hurricane. If one materializes.
Predictably, the weather forecast is being broadcast. That’s about all that gets covered once one of these storm systems roll in. The shapely woman on the screen is standing in front of an obvious green screen, on which a pixelated graphic of the 5-day forecast is currently projected. Looks like lots of wind and rain, based on the corny icons used.
I increase the volume, which confirms she is spewing out the same doomsday scenario they always do. Category 3 hurricane. 8” of rain. 120 mph winds. 10-foot storm surge.
How to they come up with these crazy predictions? These local TV stations are never accurate, and tend to exaggerate the situation in an effort to scare residents into over-preparing. At least that my experience, based on over half a century living in the Gulf Coast area.
Being born and raised in Houston, I’ve experienced my fair share of bad weather over the years. However, now that I’m in charge of my own fishing trawler with a 4-person crew, and have taken out substantial loans to fund this business venture, it seems like I’m obligated to monitor previously ignored factors like machinery, morale, money, and in this case, monsoons.
I recently talked to a few of my friends who work on off-shore oil rigs in the Gulf, to get their perspective on the incoming weather. Several were already evacuated this past weekend, in preparation for the predicted storm’s onslaught. This precaution aligns with the mandate I received yesterday to board up my boat, and vacate the docks until further notice.
I guess the local officials have to be conservative with regards to risk probabilities, even if the likelihood of another Katrina level hurricane event is slim. Still, most of us in the area rely on our weekly paychecks to cover the bills, and put food on the table for our families.
I need to do my own research on this pending squall. Picking up my cellphone, I click open the sophisticated weather app, an unbiased offering that simply presents the actual meteorological conditions without any fluffy commentary. This is my go-to atmosphere monitoring resource when out on the water.
Clicking to the Doppler map, my cell phone screen turns to a sea of bright colors: vivid reds, oranges, and yellows. I’ve never seen so much storm activity on one aerial shot of the Gulf of Mexico. Maybe I’m not headed back on the water, or outside, any time soon.
Not one, but two, massive storm systems engulf the region, huge circles of color, with the edges reminiscent of a coarse tooth circular saw blade, the curvature denoting the tell-tale counter clockwise rotation of a Northern Hemisphere hurricane.
One mass, currently centered right over our New Orleans home, immerses the entire toe of the Louisiana boot, and the Florida panhandle. That explains the relentless pounding of heavy rain drops on the tin roof above me. The second system, further from U.S. shores, is wreaking havoc on Cuba, covering the entire eastern half of the island.
Two hurricanes in the region at the same time. If storms keep rolling in at this rate for the rest of the season, they going to need to use Greek letters as names by year’s end.
The best part about this online atmospheric data software is that I can flip through all the key weather metrics. Manipulating a few tiny slide bars clumsily on the cellphone’s screen with my large fingers, I’m finally able to toggle over to my desired output. Water temperatures.
This information is very helpful for determining the Gulf Stream flow, which drives fish and crustacean movements through the massive body of water. However, a series of storms of this magnitude churn up the ocean so much that water temperatures become irrelevant. Not that I can get out on my boat anyways.
Remembering my cherished vessel, I scroll over to the ground wind measurements, taken by anemometers placed along the coast. Overlayed on this plot are the storm surge wave levels, as monitored by buoys just off shore. My crew and I battened the ship down for a pretty heavy storm, but if the combination of wind and waves gets too extreme, nothing tied up along the waterfront will go unscathed. Fortunately, we’re not at Category 5 levels, yet.
I dropped out of high school in 10th grade to start working in the docks, so I’m not exactly a savant. However, I would wager I know more about weather patterns in the Gulf Coast that just about anyone. When it dictates your lively, it pays to pay attention.
I’ve gotten pretty good at examining radar plots in general, as the fish finder we utilize has a similar display. Granted, that device uses Sonar as opposed to Doppler, but in both cases the key is tracking the movement of color contrast masses on a screen. I will admit, I have more control over finding fish, through location, frequency, and power adjustments, than I do controlling the weather.
Looking back up at the TV, I see the coverage has moved on to sports. With LSU football schedule pushed back a month, I’m not sure what the locals are doing to entertain themselves. I flick the TV off, content to monitor the multitude of meteorological charts available on my phone. Hopefully I’ll be back out on the water fishing with my crew soon.
​
Concerned Census Worker: September 23rd – Phoenix, AZ
Trudging up the makeshift walkway, random chunks of concrete laid flat in the sandy front yard, I take stock of the house. Over the past month, I’ve learned a lot about how to assess the exterior conditions, then extrapolate the cooperation level of the occupants within.
The orange paint on the siding of this small ranch house is faded, but not peeling off, or missing completely, as is the case with many dwellings in this area. The screen on the front door, though dusty, is fully intact, no holes or tears visible. There’s even a small potted cactus in a clay vessel sitting on the small stoop entry. Everything appears functional, and well kept. That’s a promising sign.
I’m more comfortable in this part of town than most people, having grown up near here. Plus, my Latino heritage offers camouflage in this demographic. I have no doubt I got this temporary position based on my bilingual Spanish and English skills, along with my knowledge of the local community.
Targeted hiring practices aside, I’ll take any available supplemental income right now. Especially when I can pick my own hours, and get to revisit the neighborhood of my youth.
Plus, the official term for this job, an enumerator, has a nice ring to it. It sounds like an old school bean counter, something I did many a time on the porch with my grandmother as a child, though we were sorting through a different vegetable. Dried corn kernels.
According to the onboarding presentation each of us was required to watch, there are 50k employees and volunteers, working diligently on the ground throughout the country, to get the most accurate U.S. Census count possible in these challenging times. Per one slide I remember clearly, only two-thirds of households reply via traditional phone, mail, or online channels, leaving one in three residences across the nation to be visited in person. That’s what I’m out here pounding the pavement. And the rutted, washboard, red dirt roads as well.
Still, this is a brutal job, with barely over a 50% success rate, if you define success as not having the door slammed in your face. But I’m young, diligent, and motivated.
If our task wasn’t hard enough before, now we’re forced to bring moral, ethical, and legal considerations into our seemingly robotic, methodical mandate to seek out, and tabulate, every human in the United States. Per Presidential executive order issued this summer, we have been directed not to include undocumented immigrants in the formal count.
This strategy seems simple enough, if you’re knocking on doors in the rich, white-dominated, suburbs of Connecticut, where the same families have lived for centuries. However, here in the southern border states, diversity is a real, complicated, and important part of the community’s past, and hopefully its future. Without accurate census data, we’ll have no idea what the current make-up of our local, and national, population is.
Climbing up another set of rickety wooden steps, from my weighty backpack, I pull another form. The 2020 U.S. Census is just a few short pages of seemingly simple questions. Name, age, sex, and ethnicity for every member of the household; all in an effort to compile an accurate depiction of America’s occupants. Seems innocuous enough.
At this point, I know every line on every page, as I’ve been asked about each of them on multiple occasions. The colors on the page are soothing, cool blues and neutral teals on bright white paper, but I have grown to despise this piece of paper. Who knew this basic information collection effort would be so challenging, and so polarizing?
A waitress by trade, I’ve taken on this census work to supplement my income, as my hours and tips have waned due to a lack of customers at the cantina this summer. Statistics has never been my strong suit. Still, I’m sharp enough to make exact change in my head, and keep the menu orders for a table of 8 straight in my mind.
Thinking about my questionnaire contributions over the past few months, then multiplying my findings by the nearly half million census workers involved in various elements of the process, is revealing. We’re gathering, tabulating, and processing, a nearly unfathomable amount of data on the American population over 300 million humans strong.
Funding for critical government welfare programs like rent control, infrastructure planning, law enforcement, school improvements, and food stamps all rely on accurate counts. I know from my own upbringing here just a decade ago, that this particular community could benefit from any support, be it local, state, or national, that can be drummed up. The decision makers just need precise information about the number, and composition, of residents in this area. Then, the need for certain critical social programs will become clear.
However, accurate answers are proving difficult to solicit. Even with relative anonymity, as no social security numbers, bank accounts details, or contact information of any kind, besides a single household phone number, are required. Apparently, citizens, and illegals, trust in the system is lacking. Especially in this underprivileged, Hispanic dominated, region of south-central Arizona.
Fortunately, I’ve been issued some official tools to reassure this often-skeptical community. However, I know a federal government badge, or fancy leather briefcase, won’t provide any comfort for the locals living in this area.
Instead of using this formal business carrier, I’ve stuffed the stack of census forms into my worn backpack, and donned a loose-fitting flannel shirt over my white tank top, with the lanyard-mounted official-looking badge conveniently tucked into the front pocket of my jeans. Immigration visits are a constant worry here. I need to present a casual, safe image of a friendly neighbor.
Still, per government policy, I’m only visiting houses during the day, which seems reasonable in this rough area, even though the shortening days are limiting our timeline for data collection. With only one week left to complete our mandated charter, and the goal to collect accurate data from over 99% of the American population, there’s no time for delays.
As a young woman, I appreciate the safety considerations, but don’t think this is the part of town to worry about. Here, I’m traveling amongst my kin, and clan. I can stretch my work into dusk at a minimum.
4 hours later, I exit a maze of single-story adobe clay homes, many with rusty trucks, and barking mutts, in the front yard. That bag of dog treats I brought has paid off, as it’s now nearly empty, conveniently lightening the load on my tired shoulders.
The remaining weight is from the census paperwork, many of the empty sheets I lugged out here are now populated, most in scrawled, but legible, ink. Considering the language barriers, and the formal verbiage used on this document, I always review the answers before leaving a residence. Most Americans are apparently not accustomed to filling out paper check-box forms.
There must be a better system, considering the various advancements in technology that have been made at the beginning of this century alone. I’ll have to leave those decisions to more qualified workers higher up in the U.S. Census bureaucracy. Or maybe I could look into a career change.
I’m happy, having completed my civil duty for the day. Time to head back to base and submit these forms. I’m excited to learn more about the analysis process, and how all this statistical information flows downstream towards Washington, DC.
​
Substitute STEM Teacher: October 30th – Philadelphia, PA
This is not the job I signed up for. I’m in just my second year of teaching, having taken on a long-term maternity leave sub position at the beginning of the school year. We’re now 3 months into classes, and I still haven’t met any of my students in person.
The entire industry has changed drastically, negating many of the teaching methods I learned in college, a degree which left me woefully unprepared for this remote learning landscape. I’ve got a long, tumultuous career ahead of me at this rate.
My computer display shows the PowerPoint presentation I’m broadcasting to the class, at least those who chose to tune in today. A few of the kids are even productive enough to turn their camera’s on; I can see them in small boxes on the right side of the screen. When they aren’t running around their bedroom, or sneaking off to the kitchen for a snack, that is.
I'm 9 minutes into my lesson for the day. Glancing down, the count shows we have 14 individuals on the call, less than half of the 32 in my 7th grade math class back in the era of normalcy.
It's Friday, and the day before Halloween. In fact, perusing the miniature pictures of my students, I spot a few costumes, hanging from the door, or lying on the bed, of each individual’s room, which is where most of these scholars are learning these days. I’m skeptical if some of these characters have left their sleeping quarters for any meaningful length of time all week.
Clicking on the tiny boxes for a few of the more capricious students to enlarge their webcam images confirms my suspicions. I find one boy adored in a black Zorro mask, which covers his face, while a black cape trails behind him when he gets up and wanders over to the fish tank, which happens frequently. Another girl, who’s usual curly brown hair is now blonde, bordering on white, and arrow straight, is clothed in what appears to be a pink princess dress, though I can only see her upper half. A wig, I hope.
Smirking, I check my own camera placement and appearance. It’s funny that I have become much more self-conscious of my own image, now that my reflection is perpetually staring back at me on the computer screen. In contrast, my pupils seemingly could care less what they, or their teacher, looks like.
We’re going through a statistics workbook, which is fortunately straightforward to communicate via computer. In this virtual arrangement, I don’t need to have my back to the class while writing on the chalkboard, and formula edits are much easier to make, via a few simple keystrokes, as opposed to my shaky, numerical, overhead chalkboard scrawl.
Also, some children seem much more engaged with this online format. Unfortunately, it’s the same 4 kids who were already scoring well, despite being essentially mute in live classes. Inner city Philly has a diverse spread of students from both an income and race standpoint. The challenges of remote schooling from home seems to have further widened this bifurcation.
Another benefit is that with each student tuning in on their own laptop, tablet, or even cellphone, we can harness computing power that wasn’t available in the classroom setting, working with cheap graph paper, dull wooden pencils, and worn-out mathematics props.
We’ve just gone through the difference between probabilities expressed as percentages, fractions, and decimals. My touch screen serves as a virtual whiteboard, and the student’s answers to multiple choice questions are fed back to me instantaneously.
Fractions with indivisible denominators are still giving them some trouble, but we are making progress. Granted, I have no idea if the child, parent, or pet, is selecting the answer online.
Honestly, I’m pretty sure these kids already know more about statistics and probability than their parents. It’s a subject that was sorely lacking in classrooms 20 years ago, but we’re starting to make strides with modernized curriculums. Plus, children these days have impressive technological prowess.
Hitting a button on my control panel, I release the next module to my class. In this lesson, the kids get to spin a virtual wheel with different colored, numbered segments. In the past, we would pass around these clunky cardboard spinners, which inevitably got damaged or broken.
Now, in real time, every student can conduct their own statistical trials, with computing power providing complete randomization and documentation of the results. A statistician’s dream.
When the software works, that is. Today, we must be lucky.
On command, a set of 3 virtually spinners pops up on each scholar’s screen, along with some with some written instructions for them to follow.
Despite the arithmetic perfection of online learning, I’ve quickly found the real challenge comes with keeping the pupils focused, and soliciting timely feedback. In a classroom setting, sure there would be a random child staring out the window, or picking their nose, but at home, with minimal supervision or structure, the distractions are essentially infinite.
I quickly minimize the lesson graphic on my own monitor, and pan through close ups of each student who has their camera on. I’m starting to learn how to judge engagement level over the live video feeds. It’s definitely a different skill than sensing physical body language, but can be just as valuable.
Watching the eyes scanning across the screen, and the subtle twitching of the lips as they read, I convince myself everyone is actively participating in the task. That’s all I can do when the class participants are spread all over town.
I’m realizing that gamifying the learning process is the best approach to keep all the students engaged. Speed based activities seem to be the most productive, though I know this system may promote shoddy work. Still, this younger generation seems to thrive on pressure, and their attention span is very short. Quick thinking will always be a valuable skill.
The lesson complete, I thank all the students for their time, and remind them twice of the scheduled time for our next session, next Monday at 10 AM. Ending the class by closing the lecture window, I take a deep breath. Not sure we have any future actuaries in the group, but they should at least be able to calculate odds for playing board games by the end of the semester. I’m focusing on small victories in these interesting times.
What are the odds I have anything I can prepare for lunch during my 15-minute break before the next online session? Or at least have time for a bathroom break?
​
Political Pundit Analyst: November 5th – New York City, NY
I stare at the massive jumbotron display screen, transfixed by the rapidly changing digits overlayed on the image. The general shape is one that nearly every American is familiar with, though few bother to analyze the geography in this level of detail.
At this point, I have committed the United States map to memory, each state’s unique perimeter profile, with two letter identification, seared into my brain. Memorizing the states is one thing, but I’ve been focusing my efforts over the past few weeks on learning the name, and location, of key counties throughout the country. With over 3,000 of these regions nationally, it’s no small feat.
Some counties occupy huge land areas, others just a few dozen square miles. Some are densely populated urban centers, others nearly uninhabited rural provinces. Each has its own peculiarities, and each has a role to play in the final election outcomes.
Results for key localities slowly trickle in, each data point another discrete piece interlocking into the complex larger puzzle. Gwinnett, GA, Miami-Dade, FL, Maricopa, AZ, Hidalgo, TX, Lackawanna, PA. Back and forth, red then blue, an America-themed tie-dye mix of counted votes.
Being in the industry, I try to act as non-partisan as possible. Still, based on the image in front of me, it’s clear our great nation is anything but united. Now, well into the third straight day analyzing these election results, I’m just ready for some closure, regardless of the outcome. I assume the most of the American public is in the same boat.
This is my chosen profession, so I’m obligated to spend 12 hours a day crunching numbers once every 4 years, or 2, depending on the relevance of the Congressional races in each Legislative branch cycle. However, I feel bad for the many people trapped at home, absorbing days of election commentary, rather than the typical few hours of coverage, before the Presidential election is called.
Based on my years of voting research, the outcomes in the suburbs are going to be the key in this race. Zooming in on my supplemental interactive computer map, I double check the tallies in few relevant city sprawl zones.
If someone can’t even win the county they were born in, that seems like a discouraging sign. Neither presidential candidate is faring well in this regard thus far. So much for the home town bias.
Considering the challenges with polling, predictions, politics, and the press in the 5 election cycles thus far this century, our crew has decided to proceed very cautiously. The America public is already primed, polarized, and passionate. No need to light a match under this pending fire preemptively.
To encourage autonomy, the analytics team, awkwardly dubbed “DD” for decision desk, is working their magic in a completely independent location. A minor detail, considering the number of new practices and procedures we’ve implemented here on the main set.
Taking over a popular daily talk show stage, which gives us plenty of room to talk in socially distanced isolation, seems to be working. As the “map guy”, a term which I both relish and despise, I have my own station far stage right. I’m content in my secluded post, executing my nerdy, but critical role. Making sense of the relentless, confusing, incoming election results from precincts across the county is a high-stress activity that I thrive on.
Displayed on the enormous map projected in front of me is a hodge-podge of red, blue, and purple sections; it looks like a berry fruit salad. Before this week, I’d never worked with a 5-foot wide touch screen display. I have no idea how much this technology costs, but would certainly be happy to take this item home after the election cycle, if they’re trying to get rid of it.
The network has spared no expense this year, knowing they might have a captive audience for multiple days. We’ve completely taking over the set’s cameras and personnel, monopolizing the station’s entire on-air feed with election coverage since the afternoon of November 3rd. No local news, no game shows, not even commercials, are as valuable as the continuously streaming election coverage.
Apparently, the nation is entranced. Heading into my 100th straight hour of analysis this week, with breaks only for restless sleep, and rushed meals, I’m slightly less enamored. Still, this is my job.
It’s interesting to think through the pre-election polling, and how these predictions align with actual incoming voter behavior. Customized, proprietary models are coveted by each network, but they all use the same data inputs. Our policy mandates a 99.5% win prediction before calling a state for either candidate. This calculation is based initially on exit polls, then transitions to counted votes, as states start to report in mass.
We’ve got a whole gang of statisticians, socialites, mathematicians, and analysts to work the numbers. I’m just here to report the findings. Good luck to them, considering the unpresented election turnout, skew towards mail-in voting, widespread social discourse, and ongoing legal strife. I don’t envy their job, secluded in the dark room somewhere below us, with laptops humming as analytical models are processed, projection charts changing dynamically in real time.
I double check my tallies, updating for the most recent precinct submissions, and send my script over to the teleprompter. By night three, this is starting to feel like Groundhog Day. But my perpetual role is to continue passing off nuanced local vote counts and state projections to the general public, many of whom are likely boozing heavily by this late point on Thursday evening.
I’ll need to keep this report as concise, but as accurate, as possible. Lots of colors, and fewer numbers, should do the trick. Modern humans are visual creatures. The “On Air” light blinks several times, then fully illuminates. After a brief intro from our host, the camera pans my way.
Time to update the nation on the 2020 Presidential Election results again, and hopefully educate them on the basics of statistical probabilities along the way. The race to 270 Electoral College votes is not yet decided, as the results from 8 states still hang in the balance.
​
Dedicated Drugstore Epidemiologist: December 19th – Denver, CO
I click through the various simple, graphical images for the 3rd time. The black line of the left side of the display stays constant, gradually sloping upwards with a few slight angle adjustments, resembling a water slide, while the projection on the right side of the graph fans out broadly, regardless of the predictive model used.
I’ve dedicated my life to helping people, and in the past few months, it feels like I’ve finally found my calling. If we could just get some sick customers in here that is.
Where is everyone? Based on my extensive research, the State of Colorado has enacted the “Dial” system for COVID-19 protocols, with status levels ranging from #1 - #6. This numerical system seems simple enough, taking adults back to their elementary school, dice rolling, roots. However, in this case, higher tallies are definitely not better, both for small businesses, and general human livelihood.
Maybe that’s why the state’s legislature transitioned to colors, rather than numbers. People like colors. Regardless, the entire county encompassing the dense city center of Denver is rated Level Red, or #5, for those like me, who are more mathematically inclined.
The rules are strict, and harsh: no indoor dining or bar activity, all colleges forced to execute remote learning, gyms at 10% capacity, which may as well be 0%, and work-from-home recommended for all those who can. Plus, mandatory masks in any public setting. Pretty restrictive protocols.
At least retail establishments like this local pharmacy are still able to operate at 50% occupancy. Not that it matters, the storefront is a ghost town, and we’re only allowed to ship out prescriptions with confirmed addresses and identities.
We have reduced our staff to one druggist in the back office per shift, and haven’t had more than 3 people in our shop at any given time since March. Which leaves me plenty of free time to learn about this global disease. With the store still devoid of customers, I turn my attention back to the computer screen at my countertop work station.
How can all the pandemic predictions be this different? They must all be using the same starting data? The huge range of projected outcomes is a testament to how minor input values can have a major influence on simulated results.
Johns Hopkins, UCLA, Los Alamos, IHME, Columbia, MIT, the U.S. Army. The list of models is a venerable who’s who of elite universities, government agencies, and medical institutions.
Staring at these graphs on the computer, it’s easy to forget that each data point represents a lost human life.
Caught up by emotion, I glance to my right, where open floor space has been cleared for our newly purchased low temperature freezer. If it ever shows up. These cold storage units are apparently in high demand, and not meant to house ice cream sandwiches for the kiddies.
The various vaccines which have just been approved by the FDA all require different, but very cold, levels of refrigeration. Our owner has wisely hedged her bets, purchasing the lowest operating temperature unit available. Who knows what inoculation vials we’ll be able to get?
I turn my attention to picture window, and notice the weed shop across the street is bustling with a perpetual line of mask wearing patrons. Plus, chain pharmacies here are already selling various CBD-based product, creams, oils, and vitamin tablets, further eating away at our formerly reliable clientele. The definition of medicine, and medication, is changing.
Meanwhile, our little operation, focused on formulating prescription drugs, and providing friendly customer service, has dropped off markedly. The day of the small business may be coming to an end. I should probably get my pharmacist resume, and corresponding student loan debt, in order.
When I started researching COVID-19 this spring, I went so far down the rabbit hole that I was barely able to come back to work anyways. Not allowed in the shop for months, I had nearly unlimited free time to peruse online resources. My journey started innocently enough; researching the various drug treatment options, then cross-checking them against my deep chemistry knowledge.
However, this work-related exploration quickly deteriorated into obtuse, less relevant, web searches. Most notably, infection rate and death toll projections.
While I’m well educated in the health care field, it’s still difficult for me to understand the model parameters. There are so many variables to consider when trying to simulate the impact of a contagious virus on a broad population. Critical demographics factors like age, health, race, and sex vary widely across the Unites States. Also, as is abundantly clear here in Colorado, each state has their own policies related to safety measures, and pandemic protocols. All this information must the compiled, digitized, analyzed, and simulated.
For the average person sitting at home, these projections of disease spread are likely too intricate to be broadly shared. It’s easy to manipulate data, especially with an audience who isn’t used to looking at complicated charts. Furthermore, staring at rapidly rising graphs of pandemic deaths is probably not the best way for the average citizen to maintain their sanity.
Online, the amount of COVID-19 content is almost unlimited. Live case counts by country. Key pandemic identification symptoms. Lockdown protocols by state. Homemade mask creation techniques. Vaccine trial results in each stage. Talk about information overload.
Shaking my head, I tear my attention away from the graphs on the computer monitor. I should be focusing on what I can do with my pharmacy skills, rather than becoming a disease expert. Fortunately, before my morale can sink any lower, the tinny metal holiday bells attached to the evergreen wreath on the door rings, and a patron walks in. Finally, a welcome distraction in these trying times.
​
Outro:
There’s no doubt, 2020 has been an intriguing year for data analysis. And humanity.
It unfortunate that our school education systems still place very little emphasis on probability and logic, instead focusing on algebra and trigonometry. Despite being a mechanical engineer by trade, who uses the latter two skills daily, the relevance of statistics to everyday life cannot be debated.
Also, computer programing, an increasingly important part of modern society, requires different mathematical competencies than the old guard geometric equation memorization. As a society, we’re all going to need to get better at understanding, and interpreting, numbers. The quantity of available analytical info, and resulting graphic content presented, will only increase as a means of communication.
90% for the data ever recorded in human history has been generated in the past 2 years. This trend is bound to continue. The next step is to make sure future generations are informed enough to objectively digest this numerical and visual onslaught, with an open, inquisitive, mind.
​
-
The best online resource for representation of complex graphical material, covering a wide range of subjects. This is a great way to ease into numerical visualization. [REF]
​
-
The key to teaching math and science is promoting problem solving creativity, as opposed to rote memorization, as evidenced by global aptitude scores. [REF]