EPISODE 16: “So it looks like we have ourselves a Schrödinger’s cash situation,” I say. “We have a what now?” asks the very junior beancounter – the sort that will be first up against the wall when the AI revolution comes (in a couple of weeks). “A Schrödinger’s cash situation. You have a petty cashbox with a variable amount of money in it, which depletes at an unknown rate. Depletion being what it is, at some point the cashbox will have no cash in it. If I ask you to open your cashbox – and pay out my expenses – I can guarantee that you’ll say the cashbox is empty.” “It is empty,” he replies. “Only it’s NOT empty,” the PFY says, “because we can see the petty cash spreadsheet reflected off the glass of the picture on the wall behind you.” “You couldn’t read that. It’d be back to front.” “Back to front like 8753?” I ask. “Sorry?” “8753 – the reverse of the PIN number you used to unlock your computer just now,” I say. “How did…” “Or ‘now here they’re,” the PFY adds, “the reverse of the quick email you sent when we came in.” “I..” “Let’s just say that we have a particular set of skills, skills acquired over very long careers…” I say. “Reading reflected letters, upside down words, etc. Anyway, we’d really appreciate it if you’d reimburse us now.” … No one likes petty cash. Beancounters hate it because they have to handle actual cash, and everyone else hates it because the petty cash reimbursement process is subject to a level of scrutiny that His Majesty’s Customs and Revenue can only aspire to. “Your receipts don’t outline what they were used for,” the junior beancounter states. “Yes, they do, I wrote the detail on the back.” “Yes, but that’s just a cash register receipt. It could be from anywhere. You need a proper receipt.” “The Petty Cash Policy states that we only need a detailed receipt for anything over five pounds, and you’ll note that these receipts are for a maximum of…” “Four Pounds 99,” he nods. “Yes, I noticed. But there’s no detail on the receipts about where they were from. You could have been buying pints, one at a time.” “Know many pubs with an actual cash register, do you?” I ask. “It doesn’t matter. You say you were buying thumb drives. But there’s no proof, and the combined value is over 5 pounds.” “If you look at the register timestamps, you’ll see that they were all bought at different ti…” “Yes, but you shouldn’t buy them with your own money anyway. You should have been using the purchasing system to order a batch of thumb drives.” “Well, if we’re talking about what people should be doing, then perhaps your Boss shouldn’t have been letting his kids trash his laptop, so that he needed a new laptop, AND THEN insisting on the bitlocker key for his new machine be saved to a USB stick, ASAP.” “I don’t know anything about that. Anyway, you need to get these receipts signed off by someone with financial authority in your department.” “Ah, so we move into Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle of Boss movements,” the PFY notes. “The what?” “Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle of Boss movements.” “Is this some quantum thing?” “At the microscopic, everything is a quantum thing. But no, the problem with the Boss is you might know where he is, but you never know where he’s going. If you know where he’s going, you can never actually be sure where he is. Because he gets sidetracked. So, if you want him to sign off small expenses you have to create a situation that brings him to his office.” “So… you call him?” “Calling him will only tell you where he is, but (crucially) not where he’s going.” “So you ask him where he’s going?” “No, because of the sidetrack thing. You need to creat an event where you know he will definitely go to his office.” “An event like what.” “A serious complaint usually works,” the PFY suggests. … “YOU PUSHED HIS LAPTOP OFF THE TABLE!” the Boss snaps angrily. “It fell off the table,” I explain, turning to the PFY. “Didn’t it?” “It did. We both saw it,” the PFY agrees. “So anyway, while you’re here, could we get your John Hancock on these expenses forms?” … “And here we are, with our expenses forms all signed,” I say happily. Our junior Beancounter scrutinizes each receipt carefully, ensuring that it concurs with the amounts detailed in the form. One by one, he enters them into his mildly dented laptop, verifies the totals on his spreadsheet match those on the signed forms in front of him. “So, rounded to the nearest coin we have… That’s… 38 pounds, 40p for you and 29 pounds, 35p for you.” “Sounds right to me,” I say. “And me,” the PFY says. “OK, so I’ll just get one of my colleagues to count out the actual cash and…” >jinglecreakslamcreakslam< … "You didn't happen to see a cat in there did you?" the PFY asks. BOFH: Previous episodes on The Register The Compleat BOFH Archives 95-99

Source: Read the original article on www.theregister.com