I stand in line for sausage and cheese. Products are always taken here, the director buys the products directly, the twists are low, so the interpreter is almost always.
My former classmate, Igor, comes in and goes to the box office. In turn, feeling awkward, she joined together and put out her elbows.
Here I must say that Igor was the most humble boy in our class, and in the whole school. When he was on his foot, he always apologized.
Since then, he has not changed much, and if he decided to go without a turn, then the circumstances must have been extraordinary.
Apologizing at the turn six times (I counted), Igor asked the seller:
“Elena Petrovna, please weigh me a stick of dry sausage.”
After a moment of such greed, the line erupted with curses and wishes, and one grandmother under the noise managed quite professionally to knock a couple of times with a fist on the kidneys, which Igor said every time.
“I’m sorry.”
When he, once again apologizing, found himself out of reach, the turn switched to the seller, demanding a complaint book. The most submerged in the slopes demanded the director.
“Igor Vasilyevich,” the saleswoman shouted, “come back, you are being asked here.”