Fishing Against Type

Question in the Logic Section of an IQ test:

Two people get into a boat.

One, an introvert, patient, long suffering, an avid fan of the Los Angeles Times Saturday Crossword and the New York Times Sunday Crossword,

all sudokus in any paper and a patient listener waiting for Will Shorts’ puzzle on NPR’s Sunday Edition on the way to church.

The Other demands when Lee Ann Hansen introduces the Puzzle Master, “Turn that thing off. I can’t stand these puzzles.”  He’s kidding, sort of.

Extraverted, impulsive, impatient, one whose professor once said that he should have glue put on his study chair so that he would spend some time, any time, with the subject.

They listen.

The one listens patiently and thinks along with the game player on the phone.

The other pushes the pedal to the metal and grates at what he experiences as the convoluted, distorted, twisted, tortured logic of the puzzle and announces, “I don’t have time for this.”

Understandably, the one gets a lot more answers correct than the other one in the car.

One smiles.  The other grinds his teeth.

Oh, yeah, the boat. You get the idea.

These two go out to fish.  The question: Which will be more patient while fishing, the one or the other?

Wrong.

The one, after baiting the hook and putting it in the water and waiting announces, “They aren’t biting.”

The other, who couldn’t wait to get on the water and upon shoving off breathes a sigh of relief, says, “Give it some time, dear.”

Some time passes.  No bites.  They move and move again. No bites.

“What are we doing?” asks one.

“Fishing,” says the other.

“No.”

“Yes. We are sitting here enjoying the day and waiting for the fish to bite.”

“I should have brought a crossword puzzle.”

Then she got a bite.  “Yes, yes, yes!”  One blue gill after another. “I love this. I could do this forever.”

“Thank heaven the fish started biting,” the other mumbles to himself.  “Now we can just sit here till the sun goes down.”

See, further evidence that life is just a puzzle.