I went out in the morning to work, living on the 7th floor of the old panel nine-story. He called the elevator and did not go. Well, in general, as usual, broke, this happens quite often. He went down on foot, on the first floor of the elevator attached a paper with the phone of the lift service, called the elevator and left work to work. In the evening at home, the wife tells, in the words of the neighbor’s grandmother:
The elevator arrived in the morning, stumbled on the first floor, stumbled on something there, went to the 9th floor. The elevator was there, he safely launched it and, in order not to walk, went to the first floor. The elevator broke safely on the 3rd floor, the elevator was locked in the elevator. He called for help from another elevator. It wasn't about an hour and as it turned out later, he was so rushing to help a colleague that he flew to the cabin and was taken to the hospital with a stroke of the brain. Nothing to do, the first elevator called the third elevator. He arrived after 10 minutes and safely climbed to the 3rd floor, where he was twisted so hard that he lost consciousness. The entrance grandmothers called an ambulance, the third elevator was taken with suspicion of appendicitis. Nothing to do, called the fourth elevator. When he arrived, the local grandmothers almost met him with the icons and sprinkled with holy water. He escaped from such a meeting, listened to stories about his colleagues and went on cotton feet to rescue the first elevator. Fortunately, everything succeeded, nothing happened and both elevators were served with a borschet (the first even drank for rescue). How do you have fun at home?