A friend told me. He is a Tatar by nationality.
I went to the sales department yesterday. There is noise, or. Two managers argue with the mouth foam, the rest split into two camps, support teams, someone quietly neutral in the side hides. The war is hot, the eyes are shed with blood in the killers. One is for Putin, the other for Ukraine and Europe. Words are no longer chosen. One, of course, Benderovets, the second Kremlin fascist. And I had to clarify the question one on the job, get them, distract them. They suddenly notice me and are interested in my opinion. I calmly tell them, when you Slavs kill each other, our time will come, and the great Turkish flag of the Malin Jihad will rise over Eurasia.
Both athletes and supporters shower together. Misunderstanding in the eyes turns into anger. Both are ready to hit me.
See how easy it is to reconcile you. We need a common enemy. You are brothers again. Find a common enemy, but not me, and stop this hoerga.

With a pickup.