I have a hard memory of past work. A few months before my dismissal my mother died. At the funeral, our director handed me a envelope:

It is from the collective...

Okay, thank you to everyone who helped. Then, they invite me to another company, write a dismissal application. The news - no premiums, naked tariffs. That’s half the usual salary. I go to the director:

I’ve done a good job last month, or is there something wrong?

- You have been helped by the collective, and you are leaving this way... Therefore, the tariff.

What I defiled is still poorly said, words cannot convey.

When I almost finished bypassing the departments with a run, I was caught by one of the department’s managers:

Give it, take it here! He gives me a envelope.

What is it?

Money, help and funeral.

You are what! You have already helped! No need!

You don’t need to have this dog just paid you the tariff, without any extra words. It was as if the funeral aid had been taken back. No good, take it, all of us have fallen. It will not disappear from us. Good luck to you!

I am still in contact with many people from that work. Good people, I think, should be any collective.