Rock, paper, scissors comes from Japan. We call it janken. We gave it to the world as a simple, fair way to settle things. America has never settled anything with it. My coworker Fukuda found this out in Missouri. He spent two years at our plant there. Fukuda works in quality control. His entire job is making sure everything happens exactly the same way every time. On his first day, two maintenance guys, Brent and Dusty, had to decide who would work Saturday. Both 52. Side by side in that shop since 2007. Brent said, "Rock, paper, scissors." Fukuda relaxed. He knew this one. This was home. "Rock, paper, scissors, SHOOT." Brent threw paper on "shoot." Dusty waited. He looked at the paper. Then he threw scissors. "AFTER shoot," said Dusty. "CHEATER," said Brent. They have been having this exact argument for nineteen years. In Japan, we say "jan, ken, pon," and everyone throws on "pon." Not before. Not after. On. If you throw late, you are not clever. You are a criminal. In Missouri, there are two schools. On Shoot. And After Shoot. They do not intermarry. Fukuda started taking notes. It's what he does. Finding 1: "Best two out of three" has never once been said by the winner. Finding 2: After "best two out of three" comes "best three out of five." After that comes "best four out of seven." Fukuda pointed out that four out of seven is not a "best of." It's just a majority. Brent said, "Exactly." Finding 3: Some Americans say "One, two, three, shoot." Some say "Rock, paper, scissors, shoot." In parts of California, people call the whole thing "rochambeau," and nobody in Missouri will discuss it. Finding 4: Dusty's family says "Rock, paper, scissors, shoot, SHOOT." Fukuda asked which shoot was the real one. "The second one." "Then what is the first shoot for?" Dusty thought about it for a while. "Respect." Finding 5: Missouri is called the Show-Me State. Fukuda watched more than four hundred games there. Nobody ever showed him first. Finding 6: Brent's father threw rock. Every game. For 61 years. Everybody knew. Nobody ever threw paper at him. Not his wife. Not his kids. Not his grandkids. For sixty-one years, an entire family threw scissors on purpose and lost to a rock. At the funeral, Brent put a smooth river rock in his father's suit pocket. "Let him win one more," he said. In Fukuda's second year, the plant manager called a meeting. "Rock, paper, scissors is from Japan. We have a Japanese man. Let him decide. On shoot, or after?" Thirty-seven people came. Somebody brought popcorn. Fukuda stood up. He chose his words very carefully. He gave them the ancient rule of his country, exactly as it is. "In Japan," he said, "you throw on 'pon.'" Silence. Then Brent threw both arms in the air. "PON IS SHOOT! ON SHOOT! NINETEEN YEARS!" At the exact same second, Dusty threw both arms in the air. "PON IS THE LAST WORD! THAT'S AFTER! NINETEEN YEARS!" They hugged. Each of them shook Fukuda's hand and thanked him for finally proving him right. Fukuda bowed. Nobody has told them. The plant manager had a sign made for the shop wall. OFFICIAL RULING (JAPAN): PON. It's still up. They still disagree about what it means. Fukuda came home to Tokyo this spring. Brent and Dusty did rock, paper, scissors to decide who would get to drive him to the airport at 4 a.m. Tie. Tie. Tie. Fukuda had taught them what we say in Japan when it's a tie. "Aiko desho." It means "Tie again!" and you go again, right away. "AIKO DESHO!" Tie. "AIKO DESHO!" Tie. Fourteen times. At 3:45 a.m., two trucks pulled up outside Fukuda's apartment. In Japan, janken ends an argument. In Missouri, it's how two men stayed friends for nineteen years. They're currently on best 211 out of 421. Dusty is up by one. Brent says it doesn't count. It was after shoot.