When I was a child, I had an adult friend, Aidar, living in my neighboring apartment. Well, as an adult – a year, probably three years older than me. His mother glued some nonsense from clay and practiced urine therapy on Idara, and Idap read the magazines "Coster" and "Young Technician" and inspired by them wrote in notebooks multi-volume novels about pioneers flying in silent space on different planets and spreading communism, heroism and uncomfortable teenage love there. On the cover of these notebooks, Aidar painted huge burning rockets, and it caught me so much that I also wanted to become a serious writer. I couldn’t stand it and I went to write a novel too. First I painted a fine flaming rocket, but the inspiration ended. I thought for a long time how it would be easier for me to send pioneers into space and drag them there into adventures, but I never came up with it. As a result, he randomly combined the names and surnames of the writers from the crusts of the parent books and wrote: "The cosmonauts Ivan Bulgakov, Vladimir Tsvetaev and Nikolai Hemingway overwintered on a distant planet but heard the furious roar of the mutant and sat back and flew." I recently went to my mom, found in my children's stuff, read - in my opinion, a good novel.

A young Georgian woman, Tamara, lived in her hometown and did not go into her mouth: she taught children in school English, thought about marriage, until she was lucky on one of three villages around - she won the lottery American green card.

Not very Tamara and pleased with this - just all her friends filed for the lottery and she filed too, for the company, not believing in luck at all.

Once such a case occurred, she decided to try her fate in a distant country.

When she arrived in the United States, she was lucky again: she quickly found a job as a babysitter in an American family with three pre-school boys. And everything seems to be good - parents are solid and benevolent, the salary is high, only one small "but": children did not know any restrictions, they cannot be punished and even raised their voices, well, of course, they this freedom with pleasure. Surveillance cameras were installed all over the house - the children didn't care, and Tamara felt very uncomfortable at first.

The boys were so disobedient that even the inner locks in the toilets were removed so they didn’t shut up there. What about them? They invented a new entertainment: they waited for Tamara to go to the toilet for their business, and then they all three broke there without knocking and with loud screams! For the first month, the poor woman somehow restrained herself, and then did not endure and remembered all the non-normative Russian words she knew, well in the toilet there was no surveillance camera and, except for the boys, nobody heard her.

This lasted more than half a year. Tamara would be happy to change the place of work, but it is not easy to find a job, and it is not yet known what kind of children will be there, so she tolerated as much as she could.

One Sunday, when the whole family came from the church, the housewife announced to Tamara that she was fired and explained the reason: the children, all three, insult the Russian mat! It turned out that they had a new Russian-speaking parish woman in the church, who heard the children’s conversations and told her parents everything.

“They could hear these words anywhere,” Tamar tried to object.

“No, that woman said that the children with a Georgian accent will be defiled!

For some reason in very expensive cars always sit very unpleasant people. They are unpleasant at least by sitting in very expensive cars.

I rarely communicate with clients, i.e. managers, designers... But there are very attentive customers. For example, a priest from the Catholic Church. One day he called and said he wanted to discuss the details of the order personally. Someone in the office gave him the number. And I have a number with a very easy to remember combination of numbers.

In general, there is a paddle, and from the threshold:

What a phone number! You are the boss!

I pointed my finger up and said:

and no. Our boss is there.

The priest was very respectful and respectful.



The office is on the second floor, and I am on the first.

One day I read the math theses of a comrade who worked all night. I approached him and said, “Friend, you’re tired. You have some epsilons (ε) written on the other side.”

And then he told me that there was another “number 3”