I Know Nothing, Colonel Hogan

Usually, I consider myself to be a knowledgeable guy. I blurt out a fair number of correct answers while watching the TV show “Jeopardy,” especially if it’s a sports-related category. But since I never give the answer in question form, I’d end up with zero dollars if I actually appeared on the show. (Another contributing factor might be my “deer in the headlights” stage fright.)

However, recently it dawned on me that my kids have been right all along: I really don’t know anything. And I ran the numbers to prove it.

At work, I’ve been in my current position for over 15 years. During that time, I’ve learned a lot, and many people contact me on a daily basis seeking information. Even if I don’t know the answers, I know who to call to get the answers. I would estimate that I know about 20-percent of what there is to know about my company’s operations. That number is probably inflated, but let’s go with it for now.

Now, my company deals with a specialized part of a larger industry. And I estimate our little operation gets involved with about five-percent of that industry. But our industry probably accounts for, at most, one-percent of the overall economy.

Even giving me and my business the benefit of the doubt, knowing 20-percent of a business, which is five-percent of an industry, which is one-percent of the economy, means that at most I know one one-hundredth of one percent of what’s going on.

But that’s only talking about the business world. When you factor in all the other fields of human endeavor, in other words, all those varied Jeopardy categories — geography, medicine, art, movies, biology, literature, chemistry, architecture, software, geology, politics, law, world history, and of course, my worst category of all, state capitals — my information rate drops from one one-hundredth of one percent to less than one one-millionth of one percent.

If you know anything about statistics (I thought I knew a bit, but now I’m not sure), if you have one one-millionth of one percent of something (0.00000001), you effectively have nothing. I mean, if you had one one-millionth of one percent of arsenic in your drinking water, you wouldn’t even notice — probably. On the other hand, I don’t know anything about anything, so don’t listen to me, especially when it comes to poisoned water. I do Google searches all the time, and I thought I was learning things, but I guess not.

To give you an idea of what this means, one one-millionth of one percent of a million dollars is exactly one penny. So, if all the knowledge in the world equals a million dollars, I have just enough brain power to purchase an empty gum wrapper.

It looks a little better if you apply this statistic to insane numbers. If Washington sends me one one-millionth of one percent of the federal government’s $4 trillion annual budget, I receive $40,000. Not a bad payday. But on the other hand, if I’m liable for one one-millionth of one percent of the national debt, then I owe $200,000. Not so good.

Again, those are insane numbers, and I had to search all over the house to find a calculator that could even handle that many zeros. (Ooh, that sounds like either a good name for a rock band or a description of all the politicians in Washington: “That Many Zeros.”)

Anyway, when we get back to something more manageable than the U.S. national debt, such as all the knowledge in the world, I’m back to square one. It’s just like my kids have been saying for years: I know nothing. 

“I’ll take ‘Sergeant Schultz’ for 800, Alex.”