The investment office. Accept the money of clients, invest in various shares. In the state, of course, highly intelligent stock exchange analysts.
The office at the company without searches is open. Only the head of the office. In the corner of the opena sits a middle-aged uncle, covered with mountains of pots. This is Alexander Dmitrievich (uncle Sasha, Sanechek-for old workers, Mitrich for a couple of bosses), archivary. All the documents come together with him, he also takes them up from the archive if necessary. Quiet and insignificant officer. He worked in those times when there was no archive, and the firm under another name traded something widely used.
Bitcoin is growing! He joyfully proclaims Michael. Young but promising. Start of. Department of Currency. It is growing, sweetheart. “Misha believed in this bitcoin like an angel in heaven. Mining is arranged. Everybody’s ears burst, some people get involved.
It was winter 2017. The bit coin flew as if Shrek had a pencil attached to it.
by Herr Michel. A voice came from the archive corner. I want to sell my bitcoins.
Do not get mad, uncle. He is growing! Wait until next year - we will earn millions.
and Misha. The archivist repeated. I want to sell my bitcoins now. After all, I act now as a customer and can decide where to invest my money!
“Alexander Dmitrievich, I repeat, this is a wrong decision.
and KMs. Should I go to Vasily Konstantinovich?
You are making a terrible mistake! It really hurt Michele. You will see!
I want to sell my bitcoins. Half of the currency is converted to British pounds and half to yuan.
The old fool. I broke Misha. Heavenly, the copper pencil remembers. What’s not in the pocket is, like, not his. Let’s see how you bite.
Prior to the NH, uncle Sasha had time to invest his prize in some Canadian shares, offending even the special Nadjenka.

A new year. The date changed the tail from 7 to 8.

On the day the all-powerful bitcoin collapsed into a boring shit, Herr Michel became the color of his shirt – white. The office whispered, looking into the corner. Michael came out of the chief’s office, where he had just been placed a telegraph column.
The Uncle! The unfortunate broke up, extending his hands to heaven. How did you know it was speculation? You are not an expert or an analyst.
On the principle of drought. Sanchez answered indisputably.
Explain to.
See also Mr. Michael. After the army I had three years to work as an assistant driver in my hometown. So, I know for sure, if the shit came out of the pit, when there should be no more than half there, it is a bad thing to argue about all kinds of high matters. Just a bit of shit threw a pack of yeast there. Here is the market – if something goes up from this or that – look for speculation. Spekulation only benefits my pocket. And so with everything – stocks, currencies, promises, prices... Don’t be upset, Gerr Michel. There are no mistakes. Everybody gets hit someday.
And you got caught?
My uncle breathed.
I married so.