Unpleasant history in general.

A few years ago, a rehabilitation program for drug addicts was developed in our city. The essence of her briefly consisted in treatment with subsequent employment. Young people who were caught with a small amount of drugs were offered a choice: either a criminal case or treatment under this program and work for several years. Thus, in the dining room of our company came Lecha.

Leish was placed on the most harmless thing - to make salads. Leia tried very hard. And we started periodically eating very funny salads. How about, for example, winegret with crab sticks? Or a mimosis with a green peanut?
The management tolerated these twists until the time, but somewhere a month later, Lecha noticed such a masterpiece that he came to see the doctors of the rehabilitation center on the wreck accompanied by the police. The body was dropped down, took a blood test and released back after an hour. There was nothing in his blood.

In the evening before the end of the working day, I went to the toilet to “refresh” and heard a quiet whisper in the neighboring cabin. I persuaded Lesha to go out and we three with my friend accompanied him home.

The story of Lehi was simple: a boy from a good family. After high school, he went to cooking and wanted to become a cook. But he got into a bad company and tried herb first, and then heroin. When he was caught, he was already seated. To the Rehabilitation Center asked himself, there he was transplanted from heroin to pills, rid of addiction, but broke the roof. According to the idea, he needed to recover in the center for at least six months and would be a normal person. But here was the end of the year, the region needed good statistics and everyone who at least somehow got rid of the dependence was quickly discharged and distributed by the city's budget enterprises.
Lesser remembered the cooking equipment and sent to the dining room. 99% of those throwed out in this way within a month collapsed and returned to the Center to make statistics for the following year. Leshai also came to pick up, but the difference was that he did not just want to avoid conviction, he really wanted to give up. He didn’t even drink beer after leaving.

In general, we ended our conversation with his parents for a cup of tea.
The next day, we gathered the initiative group and went to the dining room with a request to leave Lesha. Eventually, he was transferred from chefs to auxiliary workers for a while. By the time I left, Lecha was making salads again under the supervision of the cook.

Actually, I would hardly have remembered this story almost a decade ago, if it had not been a recent case. My wife and I went to dinner at the cafe.
I ordered and pulled a beer. Here they bring me something. A steak dried up on top with shrimp, green peas, tomatoes, fry onions and even the hell knows what. I misunderstood the waitress. She obviously makes me laugh. And here the body comes out. In a cooking cap and with a smile across the face. On the bench was a normal steak and a bottle of wine. Unfortunately, we couldn’t talk especially, Lecha was the chief chef there and couldn’t get away, but I never ate a more delicious steak in my life. Maybe simply because of the taste of joy for a person who did not break and fulfilled his dream.