My friend worked as an engineer in one of the structures of Yukos, chased for the watches on the oil plant in Siberia, the money was enough, but when Yukos collapsed they all cut. Sitting without work for 2-3 months, can not find a job, no money, family, a small child.



From great despair, he decided to go to the carrier, called one organization, he was told to take documents and resumes.



When the employee of the human resources department arrived, took the documents, was ready to register for work, but looked at the resume and said:

Sorry, but you don’t fit me.

The friend began to wonder – why, moll?

She - you have experience in the specialty, higher education, find yourself a normal job, here is a contingent of alkashi and zeki in the loads. A friend began to convince that the family, no money, has agreed to any work. The staff said - no and do not persuade, I will not take you, do not ruin your life, look for a normal job.



The friend was upset, but the woman was right, he eventually after some time found a job in the specialty and made a good career.

As a student, he worked as a sanitary in the forensic morge. I remembered one case.



I was replaced by a man aged 55-60 years. The medical expert, returning from the call, gloss, say, wait, now "with a mattress" will be brought. He has been working for 15 years, and has never seen anything like that. In general, they brought a man inflated by water (pulled out of the bath), on his hands traces of cuts, a rope on his neck and traces of suffocation. A lot of scare from this spectacle, of course.



In the morning, although his change has already ended, the medical expert specifically stayed on the screening to find out all the details of the death of this man. However, these mysteries do not occur every day. Other medical experts were also interested in this case and began to make bets.



The results of the examination came to such conclusions. The man so desperately tried to reduce his account with life that:

I took a hot bath and cut off the veins, but something went wrong (the cuts were not very deep), the quick death did not come.

The deep desire to leave this world quickly gave rise to another idea – to hang yourself. As a result, the man tried to hang himself on a towel dryer that was placed just above the bathroom.



But life is a very harsh thing. The man could not hang - the rope attached to the towel dryer was broken. But the part that was wrapped on the neck fits very well into the skin. At the last moment, any hanger (if not under drugs) tries to reflexively remove the rope, as evidenced by deep scratches on the neck and the epithelium under the nails. Our hero was no exception.



The final conclusion of the medical expert - drowned. The man, completely weakened from blood loss, partially removed the rope from his neck, but could not get out of the bathroom.



The oldest medical expert wins. He immediately gave up, looking at the body, - a dive.

In 2005-2007 this story ended. He worked at an enterprise where the dress code was observed - a suit, eternal necklace and other joys of life. is uncomfortable. But it looks like a cultural one. I didn’t have my own transport, so I always took a bus from work to home. I come to the local small bus station, I wait for the bus, and I get this careful bomžik (forever there). Things shrink, thinning – shrink in one word, but! Sweat is clean! He approaches me and, a little frightened, asks:

Do you have a lot of rubles for bread? Shop in two steps. I think, "I will give the little things - not a pity, and I will look at the same time - bread, but... If not bread, then I will send in the future." He gave him small things, he goes to the store, goes out with a bucket. In fact, he was honest.

He approached me once again to bite, all the same, to shoot on the bread. And then again it is appropriate, I already by habit give him the prepared little stuff, and so complainingly asks:

Could I be bigger?

I did not understand.

I take a picture for work.

What work?

I’m here... I’ll get it back later.

He gave, not hoping for a return, but... For some reason he believed in the good. It’s been a week and a half since I didn’t see this boy at the car station and I watched him again. In the new specialty, cleanly shaved, the man patled his haircut, he did not even recognize him, if not by his voice, he would not know exactly. He gave me the money that I gave him for photography. It turns out that he went to work for a local plant, whether a diversity worker, or a courtyard worker, or someone else, got a room in the shelter - lived. He told me how he got into the bomb. The mother drank everything, and the apartment, including, and ended, he, the teenager, was thrown out on the street - and bombarded.

So believe in people. If a man wants, he will rise from the bottom.

Worked at Subway, from the top came the instruction with background music to put jazz, polls were conducted among the population and jazz turned out to be the most stressful music among the majority.

Where there is a majority, there are those who disagree with it. My aunt came and set out on the threshold for a scandal with me:

What kind of music do you play?! to

and Jazz

Fu, what a ugliness! Couldn’t you put it normal?! to

Explain the company’s policy

This is black music! She is terrible!!! to

Understanding that the aunt is starting to boil and she likes it, she was just waiting for it, suddenly including the victim:

Oh yes, you are right! I suffer myself! It’s just terrible, I’m forced to listen to it all day long!

What a nightmare! Your boss should tell you everything! The Heroes!

That’s how my aunt lost the scandal and went to sunset, sending rays of anger into space, and I continued to enjoy a rushy jazz and wipe the stand in the best traditions of nuar films.

P.S I don’t know why she came in, don’t ask.

One day, walking along the shore, I saw the Gypsies digging the ground... yes, the real Gypsies, with real scratches. It turned out that they had some sort of a Gypsy feeling overwhelmed the rails there, that they did hz there, they did not definitely strengthen the shore, and for the support of the pillar it was too close, but not the essence. One rail (or one rail) was already excavated, a few more were torn out of the ground, and the Gypsies were crawling further, there was still a couple of pieces. The next evening he went specifically looking, dug out a dozen 3-4 meters of sections, and forged further. It is worth noting that the place is not quite wild, but sparsely populated, and the rails needed to be raised along a fairly steep shore, from 5 to 20 meters to the top, it was interesting how these thin guys would pull them out. But I was not destined to see this, exactly at 4 in the morning, without a declaration of war, I and a neighbor, with the help of a thread, wires and some mother, pulled out all this hernia and twice in a trailer was taken to a familiar grandfather nearby (before we had to go further). I forgive you Gypsies.

I remembered a funny incident that happened in the early morning of my youth. There was a sweet couple in our group: we met at the preparatory classes, took out the apartment and started living in it.

By the end of the school year, I decided to leave. Who has changed, I don’t know. But the veneration of the guy I still remember: "I was on the pair, she took it all out. Even the plates! I left only the old furniture. All the boys sympathized with him and shook.

In fact, it turned out to be this: Mishana was from a neighboring region. He came with his jackets. And when they started to rent the apartment for two, Lenka stopped everything from her house: plates, pots, even bedding. Fortunately, her parents lived nearby – in a village that is 15 kilometers away from the city. In short, the business girl, in the "divorce" took all her back.

But how theatrically, dramatically and even tragically it was presented... “Even the spoonful... the fox, the spoonful took!”

Whatever you say, the most honest honey is lip.
Regardless of the result of the tasting, the inscription "Honey lip" always corresponds to reality.

No other diseases.

History of Picaboo. The clowns are not funny. is terrible. And I advise people to read - it's about us)

I am a district therapist. Yes, the primary link, which now, like everyone else, was thrown into the struggle against an incomprehensible infection.
Yes...
Apparently, people stopped magically dying from the rest.
Thanks for the coronavirus.
"Thank you" for coming home to a severe patient with cirrhosis of the liver, who at this inappropriate moment gave decompensation, and reassuring relatives that everything will be fine, knowing that it will not be well, and also knowing that even in my direction the hospital will not take her, because quarantine, "treat at the local", and I can no longer help when the swelling of the whole body grows, when a person periodically falls into psychomotor excitement from intoxication... "Thank you, coronavirus and the Ministry of Health, that she was taken to resuscitation, only when bleeding opened. Not saved...
"Thank you" when a patient with uncoverable pressure of 200/110 for a week can not be taken to the hospital.
"Thank you" for my patients, who after operations on the heart can not get to the cardiologist, because all the narrow specialists sent on vacation, and we DISTANCE (by phone) try with them (patients) to pick up a dose of warfarin (blood thinning), (because in the clinic they are also not allowed, and the blood for density can not be donated, and at home only in extreme necessity, which I every week for them and seek)...
“Thank you...”
I no longer have the strength to listen to the provisions of quarantine, I no longer have the strength to listen to the desperate requests of patients, which I can only fulfill by breaking into thirty-three pieces.
Thank you to everyone involved in this circus.
"Thank you" that I can't go as usual to call my patients over the age of 70 (most of whom), because I ride on the fork constantly and because it's inappropriate to drag this infection to the elderly, if not the case of life and death.
“Thank you”
I am tired...

The feeling is that between the first wave of the coronavirus and the second, there will be only 1 day - the day of voting on amendments to the Constitution.

Better around than under.

The vapor is such a huge iron box with a crew inside. The life of people in the box is monotonous, boring. There are no weekends, and the day runs around: four hours of watch - eight hours for rest and sleep and again four hours of watch.
Arriving at the port is a turmoil and nervousness: first unloading, then loading, bureaucracy with documents and boring communication with local agents and docks. The port landscape is usually excessively industrial and unusual. Slowly everyone begins to forget what green grass looks like.
And here we enter a small port, just two harbours, and a green-green forest around. The idea of making a shale on the shore seemed to come to everyone’s mind immediately. Already in the evening of the parish, the cocks marinous meat, and in the morning, almost the entire crew went for a picnic. Starpom, who was left on the unloading, swallowed saliva and begged him to bring him at least one piece.
The camp was broken down on a picturesque pavement overlooking the native vessel. Half an hour later, the tempting smell of shale gathered us and the Swedish police at the mangal. Local law enforcement officers told strange things: first, we are in Sweden, not in Russia, secondly, in the woods, you can't cut the socks, you can't raise the fire, you can't drink alcohol, you can't rubbish, and you can't even bring a large, sealed metal box with coals inside. And most importantly: the penalty for each offence and from each picnic participant is summed up.
The master whispered, swung a flat bottle of whiskey into his pocket and offered to move the negotiations to his cabin. The brothers did not object. Only three arrived in the captain’s cabin: the master, the sailor Shurik and the cock. (The whisker the captain hid from the police in his pocket was Shurika.) The rest were lost along the way, along with the mangal and the shaleys.
The reduction in the number of offenders did not bother the Swedes. The damaging police aunt said: “I have all the offenders counted.” The captain began to assure her that the offender was only one, and the others, so, passed by. A Swedish woman argued that one person could not eat a can of meat. Her partner, an uncle of fifty years old, bitterly breathed and silently drank dietary cola, surprised by the labels of exotic bottles from the captain’s collection.
The master told his aunt a sad story about a Russian sailor suffering for his faith:
- Understand, he was a "Orthodox Orthodontic" and from meat can only eat pork neck, which three days and three nights marinated in a special sacred vessel, and then burned on open fire under an evergreen tree - composed the captain, interfering with English, Russian and Swedish words - here "Orthodontic" and suffers, preparing meat for a month, or even two ahead.
Swedes are impressed:
Who is the Orthodontic? She asked.

Have you read Orwell’s 1984?
Well he him. I do not like these sweet tales, utopias without any plausibility. Antiquities shops work, hotels are open, Winston Smith and others unpunishedly hide where they can think without getting a pass in advance, the same Winston Smith repairs Mrs. Parsons' shell without a license, patent and IP, and breaking the social distance.

I found a wallet with a dog. It contains money, a school pass and a condom. A familiar daughter in that school to study, took the director (on the pass only name, surname and date of birth is written, it is not known which class). It turned out to be the wallet of the son of a known dog. She then told that her son was called to the council (he was 15 years old), she was called to the director and all this because of the presence of a prefix. A type of "ayayayay... what your boy thinks about instead of studying," and she told them, "I bought them for him, I don't want to become a grandmother at 37."

My colleague, his name is Oleg, baptized his son, and called his long-time friend. This friend was not from childhood, but who has gone through a lot with him, respect him as a brother.



And here, they all go to the appointed time of baptism to the church, and Oleg suddenly asks:



Renate, do you have a cross with you?

The Cross?? to

You are baptized, right?? to

What do you mean by “Baptist”? I am a Muslim.



Oleg is a very easy to communicate person, and is easy to relate to life. But dispersed or lighthearted I would never call him. At the time, he was the director of IT of a large Moscow company. In addition to life-loving and relaxedness, he always struck with a surprising speed of thinking and rare vision.



By the way, it was his fourth of the boys born with a one-and-a-half-two-year interval. The procedure was completed and there could be no mistake.



And she wasn’t.



Everything is understandable. The most important thing is that a man is good.



Nothing has changed.

I’m 32 years old and only now have I finally realized that I can’t distinguish between colors. There were no problems in school and universe, there were sometimes laughs when I spoke black instead of blue, and instead of yellow - green, but everything was perceived as a joke, as if I was confusing words or humorous. I served in the army, I have a driver's license, I have been driving for 12 years, I have been working for seven years in a company closely related to various groundings, enamels and lacks. Sometimes I called the color wrong, but I didn’t take it seriously.



Today I wanted to buy a box of candy in the store, and I had such a dialogue (I - I, Seller - P)



I - Please give that green box of candy (I point to the hand)

P is actually yellow.

I: Okay, let her go.

Q: Are you a weak-looking person?

I: No, you have never complained.

Q: You said the box is green, but it is yellow.

I: - I just talked, the head of others is stuck

You all have the heads of others, you can’t think about yourself.

(I rushed, and could only push out): - Payment by card

He gets another box from under the shelf and asks, what color?

I: The Black

P is blue. The operation is dangerous, but you can buy special glasses

I: Okay thank you

Q: I’ve been an oculist for 14 years, so don’t look at me that way.

I: thank you



When I got home, I thought and sat in the car for 15 minutes. The man worked as an ophthalmologist, and now he sells candy, it is quite possible that it is... While he was sitting in the car, watching videos on YouTube about how Daltonists first see the world in colours, it is impressive. I even found out where to order glasses, but the prices bite.



The fact is that I confuse only blue-blue-black and green-yellow-orange. At the same time, I have no difficulties in everyday life, I work mostly with documents, and in life it is very rare for me to be asked about flowers, except that my wife with curtains gets. I’m really upset that I don’t see something, but I’ve long been trapped in distinguishing colors by appearance, by how they shine in the sun or are in the shadow, I don’t know how to explain it, probably it’s intuition.



Maybe there are people with similar problems? Have you reconciled? Maybe I bought glasses? Did the operation help you? Please leave it in the comments.



All good vision, rest from the monitor for at least five minutes.

The cleaner in the gym, watching how we jump and kick our legs, said loudly - all your karate only to say one day to her son, "and I was able to do this."

I go for my daughter to kindergarten, in the closet she and three boys. My daughter pulls me three balls - jongle. I swallowed them, the daughter joyfully turns to the guys:

This is how my dad can do it!

The first guy:

And mys can do that!

The second guy:

My husband can do that too!!! to

The third shit:

My dad doesn’t know that because he’s not a clown.

96 years old, I am 5 years old, in kindergarten morning. Children with parents are joyful, happy, there are rabbits, and snowmen, and other dressed characters.

And of course Santa! Santa Claus, as usual, was a dressed teacher. Lovely children sat down on her knees, told a poem, or sang a song, received a gift for their efforts and ran away happy.

All this kindness lasted until one of the "snowmen" - the five-year-old I - sat on my knees to Santa Claus) I told the poem, received a gift, and hugged Santa Claus with joy. She hugged, froze, turned to her mom and asked, "Mom, why does Santa have breasts? “”



The mother is punctuated by shame, the rest of the parents from barely constricted laughter, the children are confused. The celebration was successful! :)

Only his mother is waiting for the prince on the white horse.

Benefits of Fundamental Science.

At the Bolsheokhtinsk Cemetery in St. Petersburg there is a tomb with a butterfly wing. When you look at it, you can see that it is actually a tank. And the story will be about how an ordinary entomologist, all his life forging with insects, saved Moscow and Leningrad. The name of the scientist was Boris Švanvič. He spent his entire life studying butterflies, an absolute stupidity, according to the current people. And even then, from the point of view of the dictatorship of the proletariat, this was a real harm, an inadvertent spending of state money. Thank you for not being shot. And when the war began, it suddenly turned out that our cities and the army were completely defenseless against German bombers. The question arose, and how to actually disguise, so that the Germans could not see the same Kremlin or Smolny with the Winter Palace. Titled academics like Fersman could not say anything specific. It was then from hopelessness and pulled out this murky intellectual, washed, fed and ordered to work for the good of the Motherland. He once wrote books about the mimicry and masking of butterflies, let him describe how the masking grid for the Kremlin, the Great Theatre, the Winter Palace, etc. should look. What a guiding thought!! But it worked and literally a week later Boris Nikolaevich had already to Stalin on the layouts how to use the peeling of butterfly wings and the laws of stereomorphism to mask Moscow and Leningrad. In fact, it really saved our cultural values. And then it protected our tanks, our airfields. This is why, literally immediately after the liberation of Leningrad from the blockade in 1944!!! In Leningrad University was organized the department of entomology. And the touching arrival suddenly for everyone turned out to be a knight of the Order of Lenin - the highest order of the USSR.

What am I? Just learned recently that as a result of the optimization of science and education of this department, and others too, there are no more, as are the faculties. Indeed, why do we have the scaly wings of worms, when we need to squeeze oil and gas bubble, to squeeze mani mani mani mani...