"Ugh. They only sell Diet Pepsi. Let's go somewhere where I can get a Diet Coke," I said to my colleague, Mike, after volleyball last week while we were killing time at the train station. "These places act like they're the same thing, but they're so different."
"You sure about that?" he asked me.
"Of course! I can always tell," I retorted. "If you gave me 10 cups of either Coke or Pepsi, I'll be able to tell you which ones are which."
"I'll bet you you can't," Mike said, reminding me of what he calls the "Meller Theorem" which states: The degree of post-fact whining about living up to bet duties is directly proportional to the degree of pre-bet smack talk. "Let's do it. Right now."
"You're on," I said. "If I win, you have to watch The Notebook and get a passing score on a test I make up to ensure that you watch it or else you have to watch it again."
"Ugh, that would be the worst," he said. "I can't lose this bet."
After deciding that the most annoying thing for me would not be being forced to watch or listen to something, but to fetch an item at will, we popped into the 7-11 to get a bottle of Diet Pepsi, a bottle of Diet Coke, Saltines, and two paper coffee cups and grabbed a table in the food court at the train station.
We first established the rules: Mike was to hand me a paper cup of either Coke or Pepsi while my eyes were closed, and I would then smell and sip it. I'd then tell him which beverage I thought it was, and he'd record my answer on a piece of paper with no feedback. Between sips, I had to swish water in my mouth and eat a Saltine to cleanse my palate. To win, I had to get 10 out of 10. Piece of cake.
Mike hands me the first cup, and I smell it.
"Ugh, I can already tell what this is by the smell," I said, sipping and confidently proclaiming "Diet Pepsi."
"OK," Mike said, and I triumphantly munched on a cracker. "Well... do you want to continue? You already lost."
"You're kidding," I sputtered, shooting bits of cracker out of my mouth. "That was Diet Coke?!?!"
"I couldn't have asked for a better outcome," Mike said, laughing.
"Let's keep going. I can do 9 out of 10," I said.
So we went through the test, and I ended up with... 5 out of 10. I didn't even beat chance.
"Don't beat yourself up," Mike said, seeing my disappointment. "I've read studies [of course he has. He's a researcher at an encyclopedia company] and even people with good palates find blind taste tests difficult."
"I really thought I could do this!" I said, lamenting the fact that Mike now has two fetches I owe him. "Well, if we did this with Dr. Pepper, I'm sure I'll be able to tell the difference between that and anything!"
"Yeah, I'm sure you would," he said, wryly. "The Meller Theorem never lies."
"You're on," I said. "If I win, you have to watch The Notebook and get a passing score on a test I make up to ensure that you watch it or else you have to watch it again."
"Ugh, that would be the worst," he said. "I can't lose this bet."
After deciding that the most annoying thing for me would not be being forced to watch or listen to something, but to fetch an item at will, we popped into the 7-11 to get a bottle of Diet Pepsi, a bottle of Diet Coke, Saltines, and two paper coffee cups and grabbed a table in the food court at the train station.
We first established the rules: Mike was to hand me a paper cup of either Coke or Pepsi while my eyes were closed, and I would then smell and sip it. I'd then tell him which beverage I thought it was, and he'd record my answer on a piece of paper with no feedback. Between sips, I had to swish water in my mouth and eat a Saltine to cleanse my palate. To win, I had to get 10 out of 10. Piece of cake.
Mike hands me the first cup, and I smell it.
"Ugh, I can already tell what this is by the smell," I said, sipping and confidently proclaiming "Diet Pepsi."
"OK," Mike said, and I triumphantly munched on a cracker. "Well... do you want to continue? You already lost."
"You're kidding," I sputtered, shooting bits of cracker out of my mouth. "That was Diet Coke?!?!"
"I couldn't have asked for a better outcome," Mike said, laughing.
"Let's keep going. I can do 9 out of 10," I said.
So we went through the test, and I ended up with... 5 out of 10. I didn't even beat chance.
"Don't beat yourself up," Mike said, seeing my disappointment. "I've read studies [of course he has. He's a researcher at an encyclopedia company] and even people with good palates find blind taste tests difficult."
"I really thought I could do this!" I said, lamenting the fact that Mike now has two fetches I owe him. "Well, if we did this with Dr. Pepper, I'm sure I'll be able to tell the difference between that and anything!"
"Yeah, I'm sure you would," he said, wryly. "The Meller Theorem never lies."
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