I like to teach my students to trust their hunches about significant figures using their emotional response to the rounded number. I call this the “anger management method of error estimation.”
When I go hiking, I like to scrounge up a walking stick from the deadwood in the forest. The right length for a walking stick is pretty close to my height. I am (to one significant figure) about two meters tall. One meter is too short for a walking stick (that’s more like a cane, which serves a different purpose). If you imagine coming across a hiker with a three-meter walking stick, you will probably set yourself to laughing — an emotional response.
If you found two candidate walking sticks whose lengths were different by 20 cm, you might stand them up next to yourself and decide that one is a better length than the other. You might even break off a handspan (10 cm) or two to get the length right. But imagine coming across a hiker who has heard somewhere that a walking stick should be as long as he is tall, and he was 181.5 cm tall at his last doctor visit, so he is sitting on the trail with a measuring tape carefully sanding down the knob at the top of his piece of found deadwood. You’d probably have an emotional response to him, too.
So for the length of a walking stick, you really care about the first digit. You probably also care about the second digit. That last centimeter of length, through, is insignificant. The length of a walking stick has about two significant digits.
The trousers I wore yesterday are 110 cm long. (Two meters: not trousers. Half a meter: also not trousers.) If you buy trousers from a fancy shop, the tailor may fuss about the last centimeter of their length, which controls how the cuff folds where it lands at your shoe. If you have a tailor fixing the hem of your trousers, he’ll mark the correct length with a piece of chalk and then pin the fabric in place with sub-centimeter precision. But if you had a tailor who was fussing over sub-millimeter alterations in the length of your trousers (“the pin is between the wrong fibers!”), you would have an emotional reaction to him and leave the shop. If your trousers came back from the tailor 10 cm too long or 10 cm too short, you would likewise have an emotional reaction and leave the shop.
The millimeter digit is the first insignificant digit in the length of a pair of trousers: you would possibly be annoyed if the centimeter digit were wrong, but probably not notice if the millimeter digit were wrong. So for my trousers, 110 cm has three significant digits.
Of course, you might be shorter than I am, and your trousers might only be 95 cm long. Do your trousers only have two significant figures? If I decree “trousers have three significant figures,” have I doomed short people to a world filled with insane submillimeter tailors? No. Trust your intuition, keep an extra digit if you feel squashy about rounding too much, and be aware that there are more robust ways than counting significant figures for people who really need to be sure about their uncertainty analysis.