"We don't have much truck with spreadsheets here. Lady Ruchy's firstborn is an oracle, he's never wrong in the end though he's often unclear on timing. 'Bout a decade back he warned us all that any numbers we put into machines might never come back out again once the machine spirits started getting loose. After that we all went back to pen and paper."
"Truth is, this is a town of hard-headed, practical folk. Most people here want money, not knowledge about money. Lookin' at the numbers doesn't make 'em go up. Offer to count someone's pile of silver for ten coins, and they're gonna latch onto exactly two ideas: one, whatever the number was going to be, it'd be ten coins less; and two, now you know where they keep their silver."
"That's why it's always outsiders screaming at us about how this town needs an accountant blah blah blah financial catastrophes of unguessable magnitude blah blah blah no seriously we're all going to die. I say, if things are really that bad, maybe we're all better off never finding out? I like things in this town the way they are."
"I guess you could turn accountant-inquisitorial? Go around letting yourself into houses and sneaking through their papers until you find out who's committing accounting sins, and then turning them in for bounties -- we're lawful folk, in these parts, we're always happy to set a fair bounty on any sins even if we didn't know about them before they got inquisited. But for that you'd need lockpicking skills and general roguery, not just spreadsheet skills."