As you know, a parental gathering is an event where the mother-in-law gets their 5 minutes of fame. The parental committee is collecting money. Men on this holiday of life are rare birds. They are better remembered.

This is exactly such a case. An interesting man took his place at the end of the class. He listened carefully to all the ballad. I made notes in a notebook. When the last mommy spoke (at least after an hour and a half) and everyone pulled out, the man stood up and approached the teacher's table.

“Maria Ivanovna, you didn’t say anything about my son.

Who is your son?

The Craftsmen.

“Well, the fact is that your class meeting was held in the neighboring office.

A familiar entrepreneur for a long time lived alone, but one day he was introduced to a girl, a little stunned look, but 8 years younger than him and he fell. They talked, went to the cinema, coffee and everything. How long did not follow, but gradually she moved into his apartment to live. For a while he disappeared from my sight, and when they accidentally crossed in a bar, he told such a story. Once he decided one day not to go to the office, but to sit home with documents, to rest, to relax. He woke up, drank coffee and found that he had forgotten to take some documents. Well, he says to his beautiful guy, I'll come to the office quickly and come back immediately. He went and returned was just in shock of finding his beauty with the former fighting her right on the floor. The former quickly grabbed the clothes, apologized to you, apologize, and jumped out naked from the hut. The guy in shock asks, like, what’s going on with you? I said I would come back immediately. Did you go to the tower? She replied, “Please forgive me. I thought he would have time, but he wanted the second time and didn’t have time. Sorry, it won’t happen again.” More tears and tears. The former was living across the road.

The thief will not increase the tax.

The Golden End

I just finished talking on the phone with a nice young man. The boy (judging by the voice - a fresh graduate of some institute) long and boring persuaded me to leave the Middle East that became my native a few years ago and return to Siberia, the good in the super-company he represents, there is a job on my profile, and someone recommended me to them on his head. The boy, apparently, was very upset when I, hearing the name of the proposed job, was very dirty on a mixture of Russian, Arabic and English mat. He was even more upset when I asked him if he had ever been to the fairy place he so beautifully advertised to me.

As expected, the boy was not there (“I heard that it was not bad there”). It is understandable. Much more convenient to think about career prospects, sitting in a cozy office in the center of Moscow. However, more than half of Russia’s economy (at least 10 years ago) came from raw materials. Which for some reason within the limits of the ICAD in the subsoil is not conducted, but is conducted more than a few thousand kilometers from Moscow. And if oil workers, gas producers, metallurgists and coal miners were somehow lucky in terms of existence (in any case, Tyumen with Urengoy are pretty good cities), then gold miners are not very lucky. The scale is not the same, so where gas drivers have a city per 100 thousand inhabitants, gold miners have a village of thousands per 5 people. In any case, when I just got to South Yakutia – the first reaction was “well and deaf” (in fact, the most beautiful place, I still miss it). However, after some time, I managed to make sure that the "deep man" I only have to see. We went to the same golden land that a Moscow boy tried to advertise to me 10 years later.

The end is called Bodaybo. He may be known for the Soviet Union, either by the song of Vysotsky, or by the fact that a little more than 100 years ago the striking stalkers of the Lenny mines were shot there, after which the old Krupsky took the nickname Lenin. For the rest, I will explain: Bodaybo is one of the largest gold mining regions in Russia (and in the world too,). A total of about 20-25 tons of gold (almost a tenth of the gold mined in Russia) are mined annually in all fields, and this will still not start the dry log with its almost 3 thousand tons of gold reserves. For those who are unfamiliar with the price of gold, it is a scandal. Tax deductions only to the local budget - something about 30 million. dollars per year. For a region with less than 20,000 people, this is not bad. Live and rejoice, it seems.

The only problem is that it is almost impossible to get there. At least, we had to first drive 500 km along Yakutia to Bama, then shake on the train, and then another 300 km by car from Bama to drive on the legendary route Bodaybo-Taximo (about it - a little further). There is such a flight if there is a Nerungri airport in southern Yakutia, and there is also an airport in Bodaybo. It is only possible to get there from Irkutsk once a week. And to Irkutsk from Nerungri you can only through Moscow (although, at least twice a week). I remember when I just moved to the Middle East - surprised by the policies of local airlines, which transit flights Moscow - Istanbul - Amman often cost less than flights Moscow - Istanbul. And then remembered the route Nerungri - Moscow - Irkutsk - Bodaybo, and the surprise as a hand removed.

Now back to the description of the road. If you want to test yourself on strength - try to drive on the track Taksimo - Bodaybo. Believe me, no Paris-Daccar Rally, or Camel Trophy even nearby stands compared to the road of category IV in Eastern Siberia. For where else you will find a road that in 250 kilometers different streams cross 15 times. Nothing terrible, you want to say? I forgot to say there are no bridges. In the sense that they either do not exist at all, or there are some self-made structures that local drivers have assembled, what is called, from shit and sticks (and in this case, "bad" is not an exaggeration: in the frost -50 any shit is an excellent building material not worse than cement; out, in the same Yakutia one companion from shit under the New Year the sculpture of the cockroach built - and nothing until the temperature in May became plus, the cock stood and didn't even smell). I was relatively lucky: my trip was in the winter, and the winter and frozen rivers are easy to overcome, and the road does not seem so uneven. Although... at a minus 50 amortisers even on the Cruzaque that saw the sights become a circle, therefore in the cabin shakes so that the fifth point almost permanently hangs at the level just above the ears.

In the summer, some crossings have to be overcome by flooding. Do you mean cars don’t swim? They don’t swim in Moscow. In Siberia, any SUV first masters the "free style" (it is when you rush at the bottom, then as if you push back, and wait for the current to bring you to the other shore; about what happens when the current does not cope, I will be silent). In the second place, this same off-road Naparu with his brother Ural mastered the wonders of gymnastics on bars (more precisely, on two crushed pines, laid through some stream-crane accurately along the width of the car track). Moreover, they usually master from the first time (at least I haven’t seen those losers crashing alongside these barracks). Well, finally, they master the technique of breeding Indian fires from car tires. Our driver, remembers, carried 5 pieces in the luggage. To the question "Nahren" answered very simply: one tile, if it is lit, is enough for almost an hour. If a car gets stuck on the road, 5 tyres are 5 hours of hope that someone will drive by and help.

They say, now the situation has become a little better, and of the 250 kilometers of the track a third has become suitable for travel not only everywhere. When the other two-thirds will be done (and will be done) I don’t know. I advised the boy that before offering candidates a ticket to a magical country, he should go there first and see what it is like.

A very funny story came out at the end. I don't want to make any conclusions myself (and I don't have the right to "go away"). I leave the discussion room open, you want - scorn me, you want - speak on the topic of "how to arrange us". I went on a weekend, longing for my youth, when a few hundred kilometers off the road seemed romantic rather than hopeless.

I write a text message to my son: “Son, I need your selfie urgently.” I was surprised, but I sent. I immediately answered, “Where is the hat?”

This story was told to me by my mother. Her colleague from work has a son who goes to school, he is 9 years old. I have been missing more and more recently. Then the head hurts, then the throat, then the ass... and one day he approaches his mother and says, “I have, so and so... my urine is blue.” Naturally, my mother initially did not believe in this magic of transformation, but after convincing herself of this fact, she almost settled. And when your own investigation on the topic "what did you eat, drink? No matter what, I called the doctors home. The doctors, in turn, also divided their hands: "blue urine and no other symptoms, went to the hospital." And then the boy suddenly shaded and the mystery of the blue fluid was uncovered...In short, when he became less and less believed about the fictional symptoms, he realized that it was time to reinforce the magnificent acting skills with real symptoms, he remembered that if you eat a crayon from a pencil, the temperature will rise. The first person to be caught was a chemical pencil from the architect’s grandmother’s arsenal. The temperature did not rise, but the desired effect was achieved. Not without costs, of course.

At the fourth decade, you understand that to questions such as "and you know how to melt a bath / roast a stove / drive a car", in general, to do any banal shit is better to answer "no", adding "and I generally fuck how it is done."

Flexible prices are understandable. But why do they always bend up?

All the mess in our state is because of those quiet craftsmen, by the efforts of whose madness of instructions is transformed into something working.
I once worked as a freezer at a repair site of a large factory. There was a competent freezer-takar-grasshopper in one person. He told how in the times of the USSR he travelled, as part of the participants of the social competition of workers, to the GDR. There the Soviet Union built a factory for the German brothers.
There was a lot of experience with Soviet workers. The notion of "my instrument" or my machine was absent (unthinkable for the USSR). Every machine is clean, dirty, ready to work. Near the closet with the tool - there is everything that is provided by the technological map (heat - drawings were delivered to the workshop with technological maps). On the door of the toolbox, the tool layout scheme - everything is in place. Workers are not engaged in the adjustment and cleaning of the machine - there are slugs and cleaners for this... Well, this is a lyric.
There is a work shift. The time is right, the spark is spread - the signal of the start of the lunch break. The German tower shakes the palm on the "fungus" stop... Directly during the passage... Just like STOP without taking the cutter. The spindle slows down, the cutter hits the part, breaking the solid alloy plate, everything with the crack stops. The Germans are always in the dining room. It goes back and begins: throwing the damaged work in the cube with marriage, replacing the cutting machine, adjusting, installing a new work... On the direct question - "why did he do so?" The German replied simply, “That’s what is written in the instructions. If I do it to a friend, I will hurt him. My actions will hide the error of management.” The process of clarifying system errors is not so fast..In the process of trials, the taper continued to dig the tool and parts. The conclusion of the trial: A specialist who allowed working instructions without technical analysis was punished (they were simply translated from Russian). We changed the instructions, where it was prescribed that the worker must first remove the cutting machine; to make sure that the machine stop is safe and will not damage the equipment or part; or to finish the cutting machine passage - and only then to defuse the machine.
The result: several days of marriage, the real culprit is identified (not the employee - but the one who gave the wrong instruction), the instruction is corrected. Thus e. The problems are solved systematically, and not by the mind of a simple worker or worker. This is the real responsibility of the leaders.
P.S
I took the story from the comments, the source indicated twice - https://www.anekdot.ru/id/980636/#c1177489

A group of mathematicians caught an esoteric who claimed that all knowledge originated in humans, and forced him to meditate until he learned to solve differential equations.

In the morning, the son was appointed Karabas-Barabas. I found a hat, a beard, a scarf. There was no plank. Looking in the store, I ask the seller, “Is there a tile?” He advised me to contact the department 18+.) By the way, there and bought a tile-seedwood), I very much praised her consultant: "it does not hurt, you will like it." To my excuses, “This is for the morning son,” I laughed.

Sometimes it is so hard to prove that you are not a camel that it is easier to spit.

c) Petrucher

Young people are not needed by the state, and the state owes nothing to young people. Good logic, but let’s turn it in the opposite direction. Young people don’t need such a state, and young people have to pay taxes to their parents. How do you?

I stand in the bank box, a small row - literally a few people. Is the guy coming in to the box?

and yes.

The row moves quite sharply. In front of me there are a couple of people, and here the wallets are closed. The girl standing next to the box window, turns:

some technical failure.

The man who followed me (with sadness):

- I have become accustomed, where I won't come forever such a shit, then failure, then just the door is closed, then something is broken, in the best case just lunch.

The man who managed to take the line for this guy:

I need to go to the tax, can you go with me?

An ordinary day in the department of one IT-university. I sit with my graduate. A maid breaks into the office with a phrase: “There is a aunt who says she needs hackers (! ) is I sent her to you.”



A nice woman aged 30-35 enters and slowly begins to tell her story. A few months ago, with many other “not shufflers, but partners,” I invested in a company called, say, “Multi-Member Incorporated” (strangely enough, not “Cashbury”), which allegedly multiplied the money of depositors by betting on sports. On October 22, the office suddenly shrunk, announcing that the money will not be given to anyone. It would be nothing, but the woman came almost in mid-November. Knowing that such clashes are being prepared for months, I understand that the founders have long been forgiven. Actually, I’m surprised that their website still works.



In principle, the level of literacy of the investor (investor? The investors? It could be judged already by the fact that she was looking for a "hacker", so referring to the ordinary aitišnikov. I decided to see what happened to her accounts on this site. There were two — one was invested in the amount of a million rubles (and where do such people get such money? The second was a modest three hundred thousand.



The office site looks really fast, but the personal office was working at the time. The login and password from one of the accounts turned out to be the same and represented something like "*name_owner*2018". Withdrawal of money, of course, has long been unavailable. In addition, this company of successful investors was registered in Hong Kong, so that even the slightest hope of returning money to the depositor, who promised 50%, if it managed to return at least something, disappeared.



Realizing that even Mr. Robot himself would be powerless here, the businesswoman told the story of communicating with Moscow's "hackers", who promised with a hundred percent guarantee to withdraw her money from the accounts of the corporation of evil. I just had to pay it in advance! :) 10% of the amount that should be paid back. But here the contributor showed an unusual cleverness, writing the knights mouse and key that they can take even 20%, but only when they take out. The hackers did not joke offended and replied that they are not doing charity.



But it’s not just the crazy hackers who want to profit from the deceived lovers of the investment hole. The next stage was the appearance on the stage of the "Multi-Member Ink. “” A few days after the collapse of the pyramid, they hung on their website an announcement that for the miserable 4% of the money invested they were ready to return their deposits to “investors.” Transfers should be made in cryptocurrency and to the left wallet. Many immediately translated: they really invested millions and did not want to lose them. A few days later, a new announcement appeared: say, sorry, we had a failure, we have no idea who paid us and who did not. Translate another 4% and now we will definitely return, my mom swear. Well though, our failed client retained the remains of common sense and after the fall of the pyramid did not transfer money to anyone. I hope this situation will be a lesson for her and give her the experience not to fall into such a situation anymore.



I imagine what it all looked like on the other side of the barricades: “Look, these lochs bring everything and bring us money. A lot of things they took from us. Let’s get rid of it!” Everyone took everything, everything closed, closed the office, left, lost all social networks. And only their bots in Skype still throw voice messages, where they teach future successful investors how to make money.

Once very late in the evening, a woman called me in the home phone, and asked to turn off the light, because in the house opposite (meters at 80-100) her grandson can not sleep.

That’s how many apartments she called, carrying out people’s brains. And only stumbled on me, as I began in response to telling that recently invented such a good thing as curtains, and let it make money - now I will go down and sell her my old ones. When he came out, there was no one.

At the age of five, I learned from neighbors who were friends with my parents that Santa Claus, it turns out, if you put a valley under the tree, will put there a gift, the best you never even dreamed of. I put in the evening after such news quietly my valley, so that no one could see - suddenly Santa was frightened, and with anticipation began to wait for the gift from the morning. I wanted chocolate (I was an unpretentious child, and the times of my childhood were hard not only for me, but for the whole country). In the morning, the most terrible disappointment happened - there was no gift: I was crying, worried. I was comforted by the angry (just forgotten) parents, arguing about what was happening with the fact that the gift from DM just didn't get into my valley, because it is very small, and they offered to put the dad: the biggest, whatever fits, only wish. Faith in Santa Claus was restored, the plan of activities worked out: pulled the papa's valley under the tree and went to bed. In the morning a surprise awaited me: in the valley was lying a stunning labyrinth in a beautiful transparent envelope with a batch. His wings and clutches were incredibly thin and accurate, as if the replica had been reduced from the original. The swan was ready to fly away from my hands and at the same time so beautiful that I was eager to eat it, but my parents persuaded me. It was crazyly delicious, it is one of the brightest memories of my childhood. I always thought that my parents found money for this gift, unique and expensive at the time: it was hard, sometimes there was no enough bread from the salary, because the harsh 90s ruled in the courtyard. I remained in this ignorance until today (I am almost 31 years old): it turns out, my dad all night after my childhood tears glued this swallow by hand from sugar, removing the circular beauty of the wings from the syrup melted on gas. Until now, he doesn’t think of this act as something special, and I have tears of grief and gratitude for my happy childhood memories. Thank you Dad!

On one of the quiet streets of the city of N. inhabitants slid down on the roof for the road. My neighbor refused. One day, closer to noon, a camel came and poured out a bunch of straw from me in front of the yard. My neighbor saw, but did not hear, how the camouflage officer told me that after lunch there would be more cars with a scraper, and a grinder that would level the scraper all over the street. A neighbor asked me what was happening. I told him that since he didn’t go down the slope, the street would only be placed in the opposite direction of him and only from my yard. For the next two hours, I watched him load a shredder in a chariot and drive him to his courtyard, making his way straight. Seeing that his forces were at an end I went out to help the neighbor with advice, to load more and drive faster until the gray arrived. The neighbor was so inspired by my generosity that he was even delighted to take my advice on planning the plot in front of his yard. Tired of helping, I went out to make a coffee. In my memory will forever remain the expression of his face, observing how after lunch came the squirrels, poured out the slices in uniform heaps throughout the street, then came the gray and leveled everything in a flat layer, including in front of his courtyard.

Military and political leader of Japan during the Sangoku period (16th century AD). Odo Nobunaga, who devoted his life to the reunification of the country and the first who, in fact, succeeded, and was also one of the most outstanding samurai in Japanese history - Odo Nobunaga, was cruel, like a monkey and did not tolerate lies. Everyone who lied was killed.

Do I really look like a monkey? He asked one of his relatives. The man thought for a moment and immediately said:

What are you, your superiority! He cried out. How can I? ! to On the contrary! This monkey has the honor of being like you!

That caused the samurai to laugh and led to an excellent mood of mind.

Years so 10 years ago, or even more, I worked in one sanitary company, which was more engaged in installation services, but they had a small store.



Sold to one customer an iron bath, everything was fine, cool, delivery was done. He refused to install because he would do it himself. Well, okay, the usual situation, and the business is actually there for 5-10 minutes.

A week later, an angry customer calls.

You sold me shit! It all runs!

What is running? The bath? O_O

and yes! It broke and I flooded the neighbors.

- Okay, we will send you a master now, let him assess the situation.

Within a few hours the master returns.

Do you laugh that? What there?

Go to %$!

and rye further.

In short, I come there, go to the bathroom to see. The bathroom is half divided. I can’t understand anything, I look fucking some Chinese rolling around, and a pump. I begin to ask him, “What is this at all and naphida? “” It turns out that this fool took a shurik, a crown, made a hole in the strange, his mother, the bath and planted in them a fork for hydromassage. All this affair was handled by a sealant, and after all this affair stood and dried decided to try. He poured a full bath of water, and the bath naturally did not withstand such violation and burst straight from hole to hole throughout, his mother, length, splashing out all the contents on the floor and the neighbors below. He pressured us to sell him the shit to reimburse the price of the bath and the damage to the neighbors. In general, it would be better for him to sell the brains in a neighboring barrel, rather than a bucket with cigarettes. He had to be sent to three Soviets, with a detailed explanation of what a fool he was, and if he did not agree then to the court.

The client did not call or come to us anymore.