Voodoo Mathematics and other quandaries in the service industry.
One of the most tedious and pointless aspects of my job is the accounting. I do the “books” for the servers. I make sure that what they turn in is correct and that the money they owe us or we owe them all balances out. I have this task because I am decent at math. I would like to say I am good at math, but I dated someone who is good at math and I am not in her league. Therefore I am decent and nothing more. Although only decent at math, as to be honest I am rarely decent at the best of times.
The general principle is rather simple 2+2=4, 3+3=6, a big negative number when added to a small positive number leaves a negative number that is slightly smaller than the first one. I swear it really is that simple. However most of the people I work with seem to have the addition and subtraction capabilities of brightly colored sea slugs found near coral reefs and occasionally at nice city Aquariums. They believe that math is some combination of dental torture and higher magic; the numbers seem to float aimlessly in the void until some old wizened prophet can wave a gnarled stick and summon them to do his bidding. My job is complicated further by the owner who insists on taking money, to pay vendors and such, and leaving notes that even the enigma machine would have been proud to create. Given enough time all the great works of literature and meaning could be typed by an infinite number of monkeys on an infinite number of typewriters. Most of John’s notes can be described as having been written by 3 monkeys in 10 minutes.
So with this small background in mind I am currently giving birth to a migraine the size of South Dakota that is forcing it’s way out of my left eyeball to remind me how much I hate my co-workers when it comes to correcting their seemingly random numerical evaluations of what money they made and how much cash is due to them. Only my prowess with run on sentences is of greater fame.
I have discovered that the basic flaw with accounting is that there is no method for off-setting the human variable. Mathematics is rigid, there are rules and the numbers stay the same no matter how you twist the piece of paper to the left or right. Once the human variable has been introduced then a whole new game is afoot. Not only must the ledger balance, but at the same time the meaning of what the person intended to do with the numbers must be deciphered and, in the case of hand written notes, their intentions divined. I have found that the best method for achieving results within an acceptable margin of error (i.e.: It’s probably wrong, but I can explain why it will be the most correct answer that we seek.) is the standard chicken bone rune technique.
Most practitioners of the dark arts and accounting seem to favor the bowl of blood and pentagram method. Personally I have found that a small circle of salt on the office floor, 3 or 4 larger drumstick bones, the juice from a fresh cut of flank steak, and a large glass of red wine seem to give desirable results within the limitations described above. The general idea is to proceed with the basic accounting until you encounter one of John’s indecipherable notes. At this point the adept will pause, take a large drink of wine, define the circle in salt, dip the bones in the flank steak juice and drop them from a comfortable height. Any markings on the floor are then used to formulate numbers that may work to make the ledger balance. Of course the novice proceeds to spend a good half hour or so trying to make sense of the Sanskrit etchings that the owner has left and eventually is reduced to tears in the corner of the office only to be found by the kitchen staff in the morning. A high level Adept, a level I am slowly working towards, cooks the flank steak with some potatoes and green beans, drinks the wine, and leaves a note to the owner explaining that the accounting has not been done due to the fact that somebody took money to pay for something and didn’t specify how much, too whom, or even which day the money is supposed to have been removed.
So, here I sit at home alone, drinking the migraine out through my eye socket and removing the salt and flank steak juice that spilt on my shirt, basking in the magical aura of yet another week with the ledgers balanced.