It was born out of frustration.

That kind of frustration that is the slow burn variety that builds up over time as you scroll through social media feed after social media feed of misleading charts, cherry-picked statistics, and data twisted to push some extreme narrative. i was seeing the misuse of data everywhere and not just online. i was seeing it in professional circles, even in casual conversations. i was seeing it streaming 24 hours a day on cable news channels, misinformation dressed up in the language of authority. Data misused so confidently that people believed it without question.

And i kept getting more and more frustrated.

And i thought, what if there was a way to help people see through it? Not in some preachy, condescending way, but through something engaging. Something that met people where they were. Something that felt more like a game.

So one day, many years ago, i just threw something out on Twitter. A random scenario. A puzzle wrapped in data. “What do you guys think?” i asked, and waited to see what would happen.

People responded. They debated. They caught things i’d deliberately hidden, math errors, logical fallacies, misleading conclusions. It was fascinating watching different minds attack the same problem from completely different angles. More than that, it was fun.

i didn’t have a plan. i’d post another scenario whenever the mood struck, no schedule, no structure. Just throwing these puzzles into the void and watching what came back. Eventually, people started asking when the next one would drop. That’s when i realized it had become something bigger than a random thought experiment.

When i left Twitter years later, the game went quiet for a while. Twitter wasn’t really built for the kind of thoughtful discussion these scenarios needed anyway. But LinkedIn felt different. More space for deeper thinking. More room for nuance and true engagement.

So i made a decision that every Friday, without fail, i’d post a new game.

i officially called it “You Are the Analyst.”

i won’t pretend i thought it would change the world. Deep down, i saw it as Friday entertainment. A fun way to cap off the work week. Sure, i hoped it might sharpen someone’s critical thinking skills, maybe help them spot a bad chart or question a suspect statistic. But believing it would have real impact beyond that entertainment value, i just couldn’t convince myself that it could be a thing.

Each week i’d craft a new scenario, deliberately weaving in traps and tricks. Sometimes it was a subtle math error. Sometimes a logical leap that didn’t quite hold up. Sometimes the data itself was fine, but the conclusion was completely off base. i’d inject these landmines and watch as players navigated around them or occasionally stepped right on one before backing up and finding their way.

The fascinating part wasn’t just watching people catch the errors. It was watching how they caught them. An analyst would approach it one way, someone from marketing might spot the logical inconsistency first. A teacher would break it down methodically, step by step. Different backgrounds, different toolkits, but often arriving at the same valid conclusions through completely different paths.

i don’t have a massive social following. The game doesn’t go viral. But every week, 10 to 12 people show up to play. Ten to twelve people willing to spend part of their Friday wrestling with a problem i’ve created. And honestly, it just feels amazing!

Some faces became familiar, the consistent players who show up week after week. i started to recognize their thinking patterns, the way they’d tackle problems, their unique angles of attack.

Then, this week, one of those consistent players reached out privately.

“Hey,” the said, “I just wanted to thank you for the game.”

I read on, not expecting what came next.

“Playing every week has been an opportunity to really think through different data challenges. It’s increased my confidence. In fact, I used some of my gameplay to help prepare for a job interview. It made me incredibly confident. I just wanted to say thank you.”

i did not see that coming.

Someone had taken this Friday puzzle, this thing i’d created half for entertainment, half for some vague hope of making a difference, and used it to prepare for a job interview. A real opportunity. A career move. And it had worked. It had given them confidence when they needed it most.

This wasn’t abstract anymore. This wasn’t “maybe someday this will help someone think more critically about a misleading headline.” This was real. This was someone telling me that the game had helped them show up differently in a moment that mattered.

Every Friday, i’ll publish a new scenario. i’ll hide the math errors and logical traps. i’ll watch as players from different backgrounds bring their unique perspectives to bear on the same problem. i’ll learn from how they think, from the angles they take, from the creative ways they break down challenges.

And now i know something i didn’t fully believe before, that it’s not just entertainment. It’s not just a fun way to end the week. For at least one person, and hopefully others who haven’t said anything, it’s been something more. A training ground. A confidence builder. A space to practice the kind of clear thinking that translates into real-world moments that matter.

Ten to twelve people a week might not seem like many. But if each one of them walks away a little sharper, a little more critical in how they consume information, a little more confident in their analytical abilities, and if they go on to teach others, to ask better questions, to spot the errors everyone else misses, then maybe that’s enough.

Maybe that’s more than enough.

✌️💛,

-jason