In slightly more prosperous years than now, our American technology company hired a bunch of people from around the world, as local engineers are quite expensive. They developed one rarely useless but technically complicated shit for the Japanese market. The majority of people worked in Russia, China and India on individual tasks, but we in Chicago also sent representatives of groups one by one or in groups, so that our bosses had one to hit when it didn’t work. Well, to get to know people, because theoretically we work together.
So it was from the process of acquaintance that one group of Russians, who shared their first impressions with me as an emigrant from the rabbit, remained in full enthusiasm. We had one boss, an American of Indian origin, who chose one Russian engineering firm for cooperation and initially offered their senior to come to us for a couple of days. A little boy arrived — though the main but young at all, and was never in America before (not to mention whether he ever saw half-assimilated Hindus in America). Our Hindu invited him home to dinner, well, the Russian boy as a polite man with empty hands did not come to the guests, but brought, of course, a bottle of vodka. What to do with this vodka, the Hindu imagined very approximately. But whether he guessed himself, whether the Russian guest hinted that it is put on the table, poured, and consumed inside. The Hindu himself did not dare to try, and the Russians drank this vodka in the evening, and the whole bottle. He gently said goodbye and left.
And then here is what: the relationship with the Russian office was well established, a month later a group of four people came to meet, and the Hindu this time invites the whole group to visit. They come, sit at the table and see: the hospitable host before each of them put a bottle of vodka.