OH, MY, GOD
We do work for our friend Jerry at the flea market. Jerry sells perfume and cologne at warehouse prices, basically. Every sunday he'll come out there and figure out how much we earned out of what we sold(it's like 1/3 or half, which amounts to a good amount of money - $12 an hour on a good day). Last weekend he was in a weird mood and he scribbled out the figures and threw them away after he calculated them up, then gave my mother the money and left.
My mother had written down the sales figures and she decided that he "fucked" us out of $50. $50. Fifty fucking dollars. I have heard about this all day, every day since last Sunday. She's gotten drunk 4 or 5 of those nights and went into wild hissy fits, slinging shit around the house, throwing books at the walls and stomping so hard that the floor in my room shook, shrieking about how THE WORLD THINKS SHE IS STUPID AND EVERYONE CAN JUST FUCK HER OUT OF MONEY AND ON AND ON AND ON AND ON.
It turns out that she accidentally added a 0 somewhere into her figures. He left out $5. Five. Not fifty. And it was on accident.
She does have the presence of mind to admit that she feels like a "complete asshole" now. I feel no need to comfort her and try to discourage her of that notion.
My mother had written down the sales figures and she decided that he "fucked" us out of $50. $50. Fifty fucking dollars. I have heard about this all day, every day since last Sunday. She's gotten drunk 4 or 5 of those nights and went into wild hissy fits, slinging shit around the house, throwing books at the walls and stomping so hard that the floor in my room shook, shrieking about how THE WORLD THINKS SHE IS STUPID AND EVERYONE CAN JUST FUCK HER OUT OF MONEY AND ON AND ON AND ON AND ON.
It turns out that she accidentally added a 0 somewhere into her figures. He left out $5. Five. Not fifty. And it was on accident.
She does have the presence of mind to admit that she feels like a "complete asshole" now. I feel no need to comfort her and try to discourage her of that notion.