1It happened on a Sunday morning, late December snow burying the ground in an impeccable layer of blinding white.
Sarah's dad was reaching for chocolate powder as we bunked down on the sofas to watch TV, surrounded by soft, cozy blankets. The popcorn bowl was already a quarter empty, and we were ready for our Phineas and Ferb marathon.
Right as the show was starting, Sarah's dad came and sat down with us, switching the channel to local news. Like any relatively pampered eight-year-olds, we groaned in protest.
"I just want to check the weather forecast. Don't you guys want to know if you'll have another snow day?" he asked, a smile lighting up his already friendly features as he handed us hot chocolate mugs. Even without such a sound argument, Mr. Smith's soft voice and general presence had always been akin to Bob Ross's - soothing, calming.
But what came up on TV was anything but.
It showed… an empty mug on a coffee table? A man picking up the mug, staring at it in horror…
The screen switched to a lady dressed in blue, the "Breaking News" headline sliding underneath her as she spoke.
"... all of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world have suddenly changed to show what appears to be the actual ranking of Dads." The screen flitted across thousands of mugs, their numbers visually changing as different men held them.
"... happening all across the U.S. And as for those Dads who didn't already have mugs..." The screen switched to show a bunch of middle-aged men rushing to stores, grabbing for mugs, fighting each other over it.
A violent affair.
Sarah squealed, ducking into her dad's shoulder as Mr. Smith put an arm around her, neither of them aware of the sour taste their relationship would soon gain.
As I turned back to stare at the TV, a chill flooding me, I felt Mr. Smith's gaze lingering on the mug in his hand.
Being a good dad was no longer something done simply out of love or affection. It had become something uglier, something that soured the relationship between all dads and their children.
It became a competition.
In hindsight, rankings should have been kept private. But everyone was curious - everyone wanted to know. Private and public information began to mix. Employers began asking for "Dad Rankings" on resumes, under the impression that it was a good sign of character.
So not only were they an indication of how close you were to being the best dad in the world. But they also played a role in determining things like social status, employment.
Fifteen years later, and the phenomenon was still going strong.
I turned on my laptop and plugged into the latest discussion with my investigative team, already programming a new algorithm to calculate how exactly rankings were calculated… and more importantly, who was behind them.
"So - let's crack these ranking gods, shall we?"