Another confession: I do not like board games much, with the rare exception of Cluedo and Scrabble. Something about the simple repetitive drill of throwing dices to decide on the number of spaces to advance followed by the mad scramble to buy every available street irks me. In essence, it is reduced to a game of luck. And Lady Luck does not like me.
The board game in question is of course Monopoly. E suggested playing it during our Christmas gathering, and I gamely agreed despite how I feel about most board games. After all, it has been a while since my last play, and I’d obviously forgotten the pain of losing.
The six of us got down to playing the game after dinner. Early into the game, I had to spend a stint in jail which unfortunately greatly diminished my chances at winning. After all the streets were bought out, it occurred to us that we had come down to a stalemate. A quick discussion led to a consensual decision to consolidate six into three teams, determined via lot-drawing.
Of the three teams, only one had a full set to build hotels. The rest of us simply kept paying hefty toll fees every time we landed on those streets. If nothing was done to change the game dynamics, we might as well just end the game. In order to level the playing field, I boldly proposed an unprecedented merger/partnership with the other losing team, citing complicated terms that would benefit both teams.
As they all attempted to ascertain if my ‘indecent’ proposal was still adhering to the ‘spirit’ of the game, two revelations came to my mind: that I am still a sore loser, and that I may have more business acumen than I’d care to admit. I was driving a hard bargain that would have improved the quality of the game for all if it had gone through. My dad would have been proud of me.
Belatedly, I thought about where my creativity and gumption came from. Instantaneously, I knew the answer.
The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. This, I now safely conclude, cannot be truer.