Very Petty Cash

So knackered. Up all night reading MyAuthor’s manuscript and Boobs wants me to spend today writing briefs on the changes I would implement in the book, marketing strategies, authors for recommendation, and any other ideas I might have. At this point, I wouldn’t change a thing in MyAuthor’s book, but I should probably come up with some changes – so at least it looks like I’m doing my job. Of the three other books I’ve been given, one’s ready for copyediting, but luckily I don’t have to do that. Although, I need to contact the copyeditor and sort out the details. And I need to schedule an appointment with the other two authors to discuss changes Boobs has in mind for the book.

But, I haven’t had a chance to do any of these things this morning, because I’ve been stuck dealing with accounts in London.

I used the last of the petty cash on yesterday’s coffee and muffin run, so I rang the London office to ask for more. I scanned in all petty cash receipts, and sent that over. I told them that I’ll put the originals in the post with the form.

There was a bit of hemming and hawing, then the woman on the other end asked why, if I was completely out of petty cash, didn’t my receipts match the amount that I’d originally been given. I reminded them that I had spent a good deal of my own money before being told that I needed to save the receipts and claim the money back – but that I’d filled-in that paperwork ages ago. I pointed out where that was noted on the form.

The lady said that she was taking that into account, and I was still £100 short. That if they subtract the receipts from the amount they’d sent me, then I should still have £100 in petty cash.

I couldn’t believe it. £100 short! What the fuck? I always get receipts and I keep track of everything I pull out of petty cash. I could understand if I was off by a few pence or even a few pounds, but £100!

I told her that she must be mistaken, and that with the exception of 65 pence, we are out of cash. She sighs (it sure is a week for sighing), and then asks where I keep the money. I tell her that it’s in a lock box in the bottom drawer of my desk, and that I keep the key under my pen tray in the top drawer.

She then says, in that snitty little manner, ‘Well, that’s not very safe is it.’

What does she expect from me? Am I supposed to keep it in a secret safe behind a picture of the Venus Rising? Arrgh!

The accountant in London says that she’ll look into what the protocol is for missing petty cash and get back to me. Can’t wait.

Also, halfway through the conversation with the woman in London, it dawned on me that Goatee might have been in the London office just then. I didn’t think I was going to obsess over him, I thought I was happy I’d left him, but the thought of him walking around that London office, at the very same moment I was on the phone to London, made me shiver. I tried to listen for his voice in the background, or maybe his foot steps, or even his cough. I almost asked the accountant woman if he was there, but I couldn’t think of a reasonable excuse for asking. I could have made-up some work related reason for asking, but I didn’t want him to know I was asking about him, and if it was a work related question, then I ran the risk of someone telling him that I was asking about him. Or worse, someone might think my question was legitimate and put him on the phone.

No, it was too risky. And yes, I am a bit mental.

But then it also dawned on me that as of Monday morning, the last time we were talking like a normal couple, he didn’t have this trip to England planned. I’m sure he would have mentioned a trip down south. This little jaunt to London seems a bit last minute.

That got me thinking, does he know that I’m still in Glasgow? I bet he thinks I quit MNM and went down to London. Did he go down to London to find me? Oh god, I hope not. And if I had gone home, and he did find me, what would he expect me to do? Forget he’s sleeping with NFEditor? Knowing Goatee, he’s probably expecting some sort of kinky open-relationship threesome thing. Uck!

Yeah. I’m glad I left him, and I better get back to work. It’s nice not having Goatee in the office and I should enjoy it while I can.

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