No Deal Cruise
September 15, 2023 – International Waters, Gulf of Mexico
As first-time cruisers, members of the Mavros family were determined to get their money’s worth. They were not content sitting around watching video screens while they waited for their next meal. They explored every restaurant, show, lounge, and shop on the enormous ship. When they wandered past a theater staging a version of the gameshow Deal or No Deal, they eagerly squeezed through the doors before they closed.
Adult daughters, Cynthia and Grace and their parents found seats in a back row. The semi-circular theater held 1000 people and was sloped so that the stage was clearly visible at the lowest elevation. Most of the crowd was lured inside by the chance to win real money.
“I know this game. I’ve seen it on TV,” Mr. Mavros said to his wife and daughters. “It’s the one where you pick the briefcases and the banker calls and offers you money.”
Cynthia was a big fan of all games and had an eye for detail. She began pointing out how the ship’s version was different than the one on TV. “They’ve only got 20 briefcases instead of 26. On the show, they have girls carrying the briefcases. Here they have them attached to a wall. I’m sure that’s because they didn’t want to pay 20 girls to stand there with briefcases.”
“But we could still win a lot of money if they picked us to play,” Mr. Mavros said.
“Depends on how much they say is in the cases,” Cynthia replied. “I doubt it’s as much as on the real show.”
Cynthia was typically content to keep her opinions to herself, but she loved thinking about numbers and strategy and had obviously spent time analyzing Deal or No Deal. As she spoke to her family about risks, rewards, and probabilities, her voice rose from a whisper to a soft shout.
“The most pitiful thing you’ll see is when someone picks a briefcase and sticks with it until the bitter end. It doesn’t make any sense, but they think their briefcase has the highest possible value. And then they go home with nothing. People are so dumb. When we see that happen tonight, we should throw the contestant overboard.”
“Overboard? Don’t you think that’s a little harsh?” Grace asked her sister with a laugh.
“Okay, maybe not overboard. But at least they should be thrown into a pool.”
The theater lights over the audience dimmed when the lights near the stage came to life. LEDs flashed and made geometric patterns around the 20 briefcases attached to the stage’s back wall. A man wearing a tuxedo appeared with a woman wearing a red ballgown covered in sparkly sequins. They introduced themselves as the host and hostess for the game. Their teeth glowed so brightly they looked as if they had swallowed flashlights.
“Who’s ready to win some real money?” the host shouted into a microphone, whipping the crowd into a frenzy. He walked to a laptop resting on a podium and announced, “Our computer will randomly pick our first player!”
With the touch of a button, a section, row, and seat number were displayed on video screens throughout the theater. Everyone in the audience scrambled to find their seat designation before a man stood up with raised hands. The host called for him to come to the stage. The man scooted down his row and then jogged down an open aisle. He wore shorts and flipflops and his bald head was sunburned. When he reached the stage and stood next to the formally dressed host, the sunburned man looked out of place, but was too excited to care.
With another click on the computer, the video screens showed the monetary values available in the 20 cases. They started at $2000 and went down to one cent.
In a matter of seconds, Cynthia did the math in her head and quickly said to her family, “The average value is $243. If he’s ever offered over $243, he should take it. That’s what someone using their brain would do.”
Down on the stage, the host gave the sunburned contestant a simple explanation of the game’s rules. He would first pick one of the briefcases. Then he would eliminate a few of the remaining briefcases and the computer banker would make a monetary offer for the briefcase he owned.
“You ready to play?”
The sunburned main enthusiastically nodded his head.
“Our computer has randomly assigned a hidden dollar value to each briefcase. I need you to pick one. This will be your briefcase.”
“I think I’ll go with lucky 13.”
“Okay, thirteen.” With a press of a button on the computer, green LED lights outlined the briefcase labeled “13”. “That’s your case. How much do you think is inside?”
“Two thousand dollars!”
“We’ll find out. Now give me five briefcases to eliminate.”
The sunburned man picked five cases and the hostess opened them one at a time. Inside were electronic displays showing dollar values. They were mostly low numbers. Cynthia did the math and said, “The remaining average is $336.”
Right on cue, the host announced, “Our computer banker is willing to offer you $336 for your briefcase.”
“Take it! Take the deal!” Cynthia shouted.
Everyone else in the crowd shouted, “No deal! No deal!”
It did not take long for the sunburned man to say, “I don’t think so. No deal.”
“Okay, then I’m going to need you to eliminate some more cases,” the host said.
The hostess opened more cases and more possible values were taken off the video board. The sunburned man continued rejecting deals until only two values were left: $1000 and one cent. The computer banker offered him $500 for Briefcase 13.
“Take it!” Cynthia screamed. She was drowned out by the rest of the audience begging for “No deal!”
The sunburned man decided to ignore the banker and take whatever was in Briefcase 13. The hostess slowly opened it, squeezing the maximum suspense from the moment. The electronic display showed one cent. A collective groan filled the theater. The sunburned man grabbed his head with both hands and fell to his knees in disappointment. The host tried to hand him a penny, but he refused it before returning to his seat in humiliation.
“Let’s turn things around!” the host shouted into the microphone. “Come on, let’s pick our next contestant and give away some big money.”
The theater held its breath in anticipation. A new section, row, and seat were displayed. Cynthia looked down from the video screen to see her family members pointing at her.
“It’s you! It’s you!” Grace shouted.
“Me? I don’t want to go up,” Cynthia shyly answered.
“You have to. You know exactly how to play. It’ll be easy for you.”
“You’ll have fun!” Cynthia’s mother shouted.
Cynthia reluctantly stood up as the people seated around her clapped and cheered. She tiptoed out her row and kept her head down as she walked to the stage.
“Welcome! What’s your name? Where are you from?” the host called.
Cynthia looked up to realize the stage’s spotlights and the host’s white teeth produced a glare like the noonday sun. She mumbled her name and hometown.
“I’ll need you to speak into the microphone,” the host said with a friendly smile. “Any questions about the game?”
“No.”
“What’s the most money you’ve ever won before?”
“Zero.”
“Let’s change that. The computer has randomly changed the values inside all the briefcases. I need you to pick your case.”
Cynthia’s mind was idling. If she was not on stage in the blinding lights, she may have reminded herself that logically it did not matter which case she chose. They each had the same probability for having the highest money value. But now she could barely remember how to count to twenty. The only number which came to mind was thirteen, the same one picked by the sunburned man.
“Thirteen.”
“Thirteen again? Is that a lucky number for you?”
“No. I don’t know.”
The host chuckled at how flustered Cynthia looked. “Okay, give me five cases to eliminate.”
“Uh. Uh. One, two, three, four, five.”
The host chuckled again. The hostess opened the first five cases, revealing $50, $5, $0.01, $20, and $100.
“Okay, here’s your first offer from the computer banker. $313.”
Cynthia could not remember what she was supposed to do. Was it something involving averages? Averages of what? The entire audience shouted, “No deal!” She looked at the video monitor and saw $2000 still displayed.
“No deal.”
Cynthia chose more briefcases to eliminate and the friendly host gushed about what a great job she was doing. With each new briefcase opened, she liked the applause a little more. She could distinguish people calling her name in all the shouted noise. Two-thousand dollars stayed on the board. Her fear was replaced by excitement. She began to hop up and down.
“We now only have two cases left. Your briefcase, Number 13, and Briefcase 20. Your briefcase either has $2000 or $10 inside. Here’s the final offer from the banker. $1005.”
Cynthia smiled and hopped. She heard her name and “No deal!” shouted from the crowd.
“Think carefully. That’s a lot of money. Do you want the deal or your briefcase?”
Cynthia could feel her heart banging against her chest as she said, “My briefcase.”
“Open it up!” the host shouted.
The hostess popped the latch. The electronic display read $2000. Cynthia’s screams were lost in the noise of the theater. She switched from hopping to jumping and repeated, “I’ve never won anything before,” as the host counted twenty $100 bills into her outstretched hands.
“What are you going to do with the money?” the host asked.
Cynthia did not bother to answer. She jumped from the stage waving her money-filled hands. Then she found the open aisle that led all the way to the exit doors. She ran, screaming, all the way out of the theater.
Cynthia’s family did not hesitate. As soon as she ran past them, they hurried out of their seats to follow. She had a good head start, but they simply trailed her from the sound of her screaming. By the time they reached her, she was dancing next to one of the ship’s outdoor pools, her arms in the air.
“What do we do?” Mr. Mavros asked. “She looks like she robbed a bank.”
Grace suddenly rushed toward her sister and pushed her into the pool. Cynthia splashed under the water and then came up sputtering. Hundred-dollar bills floated around her. The shock abruptly ended Cynthia’s celebrating. She focused on collecting her wet money before paddling to the pool’s edge and hefting herself out to the deck.
“What did you do that for?” Mrs. Mavros shouted at Grace.
“I was only doing what she wanted. It was her idea to throw anyone who held onto their briefcase into the pool.”
Cynthia pulled wet strands of hair away from her face. “Grace did the right thing,” she said in a voice that made her sound like her normal self. “I was insane. I needed to get wet.” She looked at the soggy bills in her hands. “I want to dry these out and deposit them in an ATM before I do something else crazy with them.”
“You sure you’re okay?” her dad asked.
“I’m fine. But do you know what the probability is for doing something wasteful with money you win?”
Her family smiled. The Cynthia they knew was definitely back.
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