From the very morning I am called to the glass door that closes our corridor from the staircase cage, the coordinator.

“You see,” he said, carefully pulling one of the strings there and there. The bottom element is not that. is clogged. Paul is scratching. Must be repaired.

(The lower steel element on the door has indeed somehow collapsed and now hits the sharp edge and the carpet, and the second loop.)
Listening and obeying, I call, first of all, Sereza, our assistant worker in the office.

- And this is not for the repairers, - Sereza says dullly, knocking the door. This is for security. This is not just a dungeon, it is a high-tech, electronic lock, the locking system of a part of the floor - here you simply do nothing. You have to leave an application, call the master.

We both are silently silent, contemplating a super-modern door with an electronic lock that has collapsed.

“Al,” Sereza suddenly said somnambulically, still holding the door, “we will try it in Russian now.

After opening the clutch for greater convenience, he wears the shoe several times carefully, but mentally pins the high-tech metal element in the direction of the straightening.
The element is aligned.
The door is opened and it closes softly and completely silent, like a new one.

“We are a high-class transnational corporation,” Sereza says with unbeatable intonation, contemplating the work of his own hands.
After the break, I agree. We have professionals in our business!
and Koo-koo