I remembered one case. Leased in a year like 2008 for the purpose of producing furniture, the room was not expensive, completely empty, there was never heating, iron gates without a hint of any type of seal, 3 phases were introduced, and the accounting shield. tk. They knew what they were going to do, improved in the shortest possible time, made heating, lighting, changed the gate and it was fine. Time passed, the work burst. A year later, the landlord, apparently looking at what magnificence it gives almost for nothing, decided to raise the price to the level of the corresponding property. Without thinking for a long time, we come to the industrial zone across the road, the squares are slightly smaller, but the conditions were as early as before. Demonstrated heating, lighting, returned to the place the old gates - in general left as it was.

by the tenant:????? to

I have a friend, Julia, with whom we worked in school a long time ago. At that time she was a young girl after pedinstudy. She was appointed a class leader in 10th grade. In the classroom was Vanya, a very good guy, an outstanding, an activist and all that. He helped Julia, literally taking over her chief. Of course, it became her favorite.



Ten years passed, she was married, moved to Orenburg, but she always remembered Vania, such a good guy. I didn’t only know what happened to him, I only knew that he went to medical school.



Julia had a second pregnancy, she was thirty, became ill, was taken to the hospital by an ambulance. In the reception room sent to the examination room, said wait, now the gynecologist will come, he will examine you. She sat and waited for the doctor, the door opened and Ivan Dmitrievich entered, who graduated from the medical university a few years ago, and, despite his youth, had time to become a very promising gynecologist. It was the same Vanya, her best student and favorite.



According to Julia, at this point she almost had a heart attack, the meeting went to fame.

Most loudly about the greatness, significance, national exceptionality of the lambs are claimed by those who cut and cut these lambs.

The Money Rain

End of the 70s. I, a very young virgin, was going to go wildly to Crimea. She got her first vacation in her life at her first job, her parents also added money, but everything was somehow not very large bills. Even in those good Soviet times, people were afraid of their money. Where did I hide them? Of course, where they were hidden by all women at all times, in the underwear...

In addition to me, there were three other men in my coupe, well very suspicious... They immediately got a drink and sat down to play cards for a small amount of money. I stood on the upper shelf and guarded them from above. Until I fell asleep tired.

I woke up from the wild. Apparently I was sleeping restlessly, swirling, and my money, carefully wrapped in a towel, turned out and broke out of my still small underwear to freedom.

Men sit down, drink Port Wine Agdam, play cards, complain that the salaries are small, and suddenly my holidays start to fall quietly on their heads. This kind of money rains mainly from five-ruble notes. And as a bonus, I hang from the top shelf, all so beautiful, young, roasted and choking myself for the chest.

They ran like horses... They gathered all my savings and gave them back to me. Normal men have arrived. Thro the way, we drank tea together, featured foods on the road and joke anecdotes. The train approached Simferopol. And likewise, the times of the disintegration of the Soviet Union and the fall of the Soviet Union were unremittingly approaching. This is life...

The middle class in Russia is those people who are told in the store:
There was a little over half a kilo of sausage.
And they answer:
Let it leave.

When I was 15 years old, a neighbor came to visit us. We sat down, we drank tea, and she began to complain to her husband that she started drinking, quietly, she noticed that the guilt of the household became much less. My mother, a fan of joke, came up with such a plan, "revenge": in the box where there was wine, put a large drawing of the dule.

I painted the doula, it came out to me very picturesque. We were so cuddling, just waiting for him to open the closet, and there was a douleur. What kind of face will he have. The neighbor put a drawing and cleaned the wine.

Further silence, a week, two, a neighbor says that the husband is frozen, did not show, is silent. We don’t ask for wine...we have forgotten this story.

20 years have passed. I sat in a cafe with the daughter of the same neighbor who was visiting us at the time. I remembered and told her the story of her father, as we painted him. I realize that my friend’s expression has changed. And here is the end of our joke... It turns out it was she, drinking wine, (she was 13 years old, no one could think of her, an outstanding woman) and she saw the same joke, and her father was not at business at all. It turns out we thought so about the man!