Andare, Partire, Tornare

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Math is hard!

So next Saturday will be my last one spent in the salon. I hit my limit of spending the entire day soggy, smelly, and tired, so I asked to be switched over to cashier full time. They were happy to have me, and because one of the lead cashiers is leaving, they told me that they want me to train as a lead (which means being a cash register keyholder, helping with closeout paperwork, etc.)

So of course, today, I go in to do my cashier stuff, and have an absolutely dreadful fucking day. The entire day was just *weird*, with people asking for strange, impossible things, bizarro returns, rampant hostility, and long lines at every register. My first cash register freaked out on me and eventually locked up and had to be unplugged. Two people were short ten bucks when their registers were shut down, but I did everybody one better. I was over. By thirty-five freaking dollars. How? I have no idea. Not the first glimpse of a clue. Since I am terminally math-challenged, I do believe it might have been something I did wrong, but I don't know just what that something (somethings?) might have been. And now I'm worried about becomning a lead cashier and fucking things up on every cash register I touch, not just mine.

Sometimes I think I've got everybody fooled and at some point my facade will slip and reveal to the world how incompetent I truly am. It's a feeling I got repeatedly in grad school, actually.

I'm not depressed over the wacky cash drawer incident, which is kind of how I'm making it sound, but I am concerned that I'm biting off more than I can chew. I suck at math, especially under pressure. Making an additional fifty cents an hour wouldn't ease the stress I would feel as my brain tried to churn through a simple multiplication problem in front of another cashier and a bunch of customers.

8:33 p.m. - 2003-07-20

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