Helen’s Friend Arrives

Thirty minutes into the class, and your hand is beginning to cramp up from all of the writing you’ve done. You’ve filled multiple pages full of equations, explanations, and side-notes that the professor claims “might show up on an exam,” all of which is making you regret taking this class very much. You shoot Helen and look and she fires a two-fingered gun at her head, rolling her eyes. Well, there’s one reason to stay in this class, and it’s a convincing one.

You hear the lecture hall’s heavy door swing open, and look back to see a guy walking down the steps. He’s got a tailored blue shirt, as well as salmon shorts and a pair of Armani shades that he’s kept on for some inexplicable reason. He continues down the steps, past several noticeably empty seats, until he’s standing right next to you.

“Get out of the way buddy, this is my seat,” he says, patting you on the back.

“You seriously telling me to move?” you ask, amazed at the nerve that this guy has.

“You see that girl sitting next to you? She’s mine, and so that seat is mine,” he says, giving Helen a winning smile. What a disgusting piece of filth.

“I think I like this seat just fine. Why don’t you try that one? It’s nice and empty, just like your head,” you retort, and the students around you stifle laughs.

“Is something the matter?” the professor calls out from the blackboard, her voice stern and commanding.

“Nothing’s up, Professor Ward. It’s just that some kid’s in my seat is all, we can work this out on our own,” the guy says back.

The professor folds her arms and looks the two of you up and down. She nods, and says: “In economics, we want goods and services to go to those who value them most, so that we can maximise utility. Usually, we use money as a proxy for this - if you’re willing to pay more for it, you want it more, and so you deserve to have it. It’s an imperfect measure, but it’s often the best that we have.

“Today, however, we see that money is not the only measure of one’s preferences. In the market for seat selection, you pay not a physical price, but the price of time. People who get to class earlier get their first pick of seats, and this is fair, because they spent the effort to do so and hence tend to value those seats more than those who come to class later, and didn’t spend the effort.

“Now, you who’s standing up - what’s your name?”

“Jack,” he says, his cocky grin sliding from his face as he sees here this is going.

“Now Jack walked into our class thirty minutes late, clearly indicating that he cares relatively little about his seat, as well as this class and its contents. Since Jack was late and caused a disruption, in order to bring our incentives into alignment, I’m going to be assigning an extra problem about matching models and seats this week. Do not interrupt my class, or there will be consequences,” the professor says, and the class groans in response. “And find yourself a seat, Jack.”

The guy gives you the finger under the desk, where the professor can’t see, and stomps off to find an empty seat.

“Shit, sorry your friend - boyfriend? got chewed out,” you say to Helen, even though you secretly feel that it was justified.

“Oh god no, I’m not dating him,” Helen responds. “We’re just… friendly. And don’t apologise for that, he deserved every inch of that. I just wish we didn’t have to pay the price too.”

“Yeah, that kinda sucks,” you say ruefully.

The rest of the class proceeds without incident, and soon enough, you’re walking out of the classroom, free again.

Jack -15
Helen +5
Ward +1