So I work retail. Sort of fancy retail. During the day. I have a nice, electronic till (till = cash register; sorry, I forgot that "till" isn't something that Americans say so it was a bit confusing
) that tells me how much change to give to people, which is great because while I'm good at math by my fucking self, as soon as I have an audience waiting for me to give change, I blank out and forget how to subtract (this is foreshadowing). So I have math anxiety, but it doesn't come up at work often unless people do that fucking thing where they hand me money, and I put it through the till, and then they're like "Oh wait haha I have an extra euro, here you go!" and I'm like no sorry THE TILL HAS SPOKEN.
Anyway.
My husband called me in a panic tonight asking if I could come into his work (local music bar down the street) and do the door. I'm like uh no, I'm not going to stand at the door all night monitoring drunk people and kicking them out. Much as I'd like to, I can't even do one push-up, let alone throw a drunk man out a window. He laughs and says "No, not the door-door - we need someone to stand by the door to the private bar to take tickets for a gig."
I used to work at a bar, and I've done ticket sales for them before, so, sure. I got nothing else going on tonight (JUST KIDDING I have paintings and a commission and messages to reply to, but, UH - ), and I'd like to make €25, so okay.
My husband is working at the bar directly behind me (his work has like four different bar-rooms; this one is for small, private musical gigs) and goes over my job. I'm to sell tickets (duh), stamp people's wrists, and keep a tally of everyone who comes in. Also free Pepsi, yaay. And the band is a blues band, and everybody is super happy to see me because they had no one else who could come in due to someone fucking up the work rota.
It's all good. The tickets are €7, which means I have to dust off my trusty 7 times tables in my head, because my till is just a box, and to ask for a calculator would be a sign of weakness. But I have a pint of Pepsi so I'm good to go.
It's a small gig thank god, and people come in slowly and with enough time for me to follow procedure. Get money, give change, stamp wrist, mark who came in. People leave to go to the toilet, and the music's playing so it's hard to call them out when they come back to show me their wrist-stamp (because I am GOD AWFUL with remembering faces), so I have to try and memorise who came in and out by their clothes. I can't remember faces, but I can remember clothes.
Okay, three people just left - two to the smoking area, one to downstairs. Sparkly skirt. Green glasses. Bald guy. SPARKLY SKIRT. GREEN GLASSES. BALD GUY. I can do this.
A guy comes in and hands me €50. Okay, €7, so €43 change. All good. He then ushers in two other people - wait, sir, will you be buying their tickets as well? He looks at his change and is like "Uh yeah sorry." He hands me €40.
€40? The other two tickets is only whatever €7 multiplied by 2 is. Uh. €14. €40 minus €14. Okay so I can give him one of the €20s back. He's standing patiently. Smiling, even.
I stare at the till. Then at the €20 in my hand. What's 20 minus 14? Wasn't there a 7 involved? Wait, it was €7 per ticket. And 7x2 is 14. I have €14. Wait no I have €20. I need €14. Wait no I need to subtract €14.
The guy's still standing there, smiling. Waiting. Patiently. Or is he looking annoyed? Is this the Twilight Zone? Am I A DUMB-ASS?
Don't answer that.Long story short what the FUCK I could not do it. I could not subtract €14 from €20. I am here today to announce this to you all. Did any of you ever think I was good at painting? Did you think that I was good at anything? Well stop that, because I'm bad at math, and that cancels all that out. That's how math works, right? You can cancel stuff out? Bad math = big stupid. Especially when it's SUBTRACTING 14 FROM 20 WHAT THE FUCK.
I call my husband over, because why not make myself look even more stupid? And lo and behold, before I can even explain to him what had happened, just having him next to me jump-started the two neurons in my brain that had been fighting each other and there we are, 20-14=6.
I hand the poor man his €6 in change and sit back down. I spend the rest of the evening wondering what might be the most subtle way to commit ritualistic seppuku. I don't remember whether the music was good because by that point I had had two pints of Pepsi (to drown my sorrows) and I had to pee really bad.
Help, I'm dumb.
The end.
~~~~~
UNRELATED: I only ask this here because if you've read this far, that might mean you enjoy reading? Or at least you enjoy reading about me being stupid. Anyway, I have a couple short stories laying around, and a couple more planned - would anyone be interested in reading them if I uploaded them here? They're all to do with my characters, but they can be read alone in that they're not connected to the main story. Anyway let me know or else they'll just rot into nothingness