you too can help

Someone please come get me. Please, I’m beggin you, just come take me away from all this. I just spent the last hour arguing numbers with a former rocket scientist, and all I wanna do now is squat on my hunches with my thumb in my mouth and wet myself. I don’t want to know how the numbers are achieved; all I care is that they work. I’m not on a quest for higher knowledge, I’m just happy when the books balance. I enjoy numbers as long as they’re nice and neat and know their roles. I don’t really care to know what spatial event caused the numbers in the beginning; I just care about the end result they tell me. I don’t care to be at point Z and have someone ask me to backtrack to point D and then tell em what the events were at that point to make the number’s what they are. At that point all you get from me is a numb look, which quickly turns into rabid desperation. My body tenses up and my shoulders hunch over as I start darting my eyes around the room looking for an escape. I snap out an answer that only brings forth another question. My beetled brow is now shiny with the sweat of fear and I can feel my bladder begin to loosen. I try another answer as I scramble for time, and then I excuse myself to run to my cubicle. But he follows me and with pencil in mouth he shuffles some papers in the folder he’s holding. “Greg, so if we take the ending figure for the past two physical years and divide it by the number of months we used this unit, then sub-divide it by the annual cost…do you come up with this figure? Hmmmm”? Now I’m openly sobbing as I stab at the calculator which is blurred because of the tears in my eye’s “Is this the figure”. I ask, as I hold up my calculator in my trembling hand as a slave would his master’s dish. He rips the calculator from my hands and stares intently at it for a couple of seconds. “Yes, yes it is”.