of Ukraine. Winter of 2019. On the street +1.
We work in construction. Nine people are cementers. People are simple.
Everyone’s salary is minimal. We cut cylinders and blades of concrete. At smoking and lunch we come to warm up in the bus PAZik, on which the company drives us to the construction site.
The driver of the bus, Stepanic (man 55 years old). All of his work is to take the workers to the site, and after work - to take them back to TREST. He has a schedule, like everyone else, from eight to five. That is, all 7 hours (one hour a day Stepanych, still, to work - the delivery of people to the construction and back), while we drag the concrete - he has free time with the attachment to the place and the bus (there is dry and warm), which he is not even obliged to repair ( in the "garage" there are car slides, they carry out all repairs and ITs). Basically, at this time he reads books, heats the bus and constantly noises, say, the minimum - bullying the working man.
It was lunch time, everyone ate and rested. Who played the cards, who played the phone. On the street it rained that day - we were wet, tired. We sit, we smoke, we dry, we warm.
Stepanic begins his speech:
“I’m looking like Pope Carlos on these chacals. And they, fucks, smell a minimal and hold it for two months! I’m counting, I am counting! Drivers are not in X...
You are right, Stephanie! The brigadier speaks. How much can we endure this horror? Throw away your “bone”! Come to us in Betlehem! Not all life to be humiliated - gasoline with the bus to steal!