Everybody answers one question with a number, the guesses go up in a line, and you bet on the nearest without going over. 3 to 8 people, about 15 minutes.
Nobody can revise for it and nobody can look it up in forty-five seconds. Every question is a quantity you reason your way to from things you already have, and the deck refuses anything that would favour whoever grew up in the right country — no currency, no unit half the room would have to convert, nowhere on a map. Somebody two weeks into the job is exactly as well placed as somebody nine years in.
One person on every call is quicker with numbers than everybody else, and here it does not settle anything. You can hand your slip in blank, read what the room wrote, put your money on the one guess that looks sane and take the round outright — being right about your colleagues is worth exactly what being right about the world is worth.
Everybody writes at the same moment, so a table of eight costs no more time than a table of three. What the extra people buy is a longer line to read, and the forty seconds spent arguing about which number on it is mad is the part people stay for.
A round
On the sheet
Also on
