I have a good, non-intellectual job.

To get my profession, it is enough to complete monthly courses, and then the main thing is to be punctual and not smell afterwards. In short, I am a coach.

A few months ago, the club changed the bosses, a new lady every month comes up with new improvements, which are mainly about reducing the salary: now the salary is black, removed the bonuses, imposed fines.

After every new introduction, if someone roared, he received a moral teaching in the sense of "a lot of you such", " a row for every place in the hats", "I don't like - free."

I would like to write that everyone left and the club went bankrupt, but in our area the crisis is now, in other clubs the situation is worse, they can just throw away with the salary, so nobody left, they fell, but somehow reconciled with the "new meth".

The hardest thing was to endure the arrogance-disregarding attitude from the series "you are nobody and call you no way", "I said you will go out at 10, so you will go out", "which means sick to be at work, unfortunately".



Once she learned about my past life and asked for contact teaching German for her husband. I gave her a few contacts of cool teachers, the best in their field in our city.

He calls me in a couple of hours in anger:

April and no others.

These are the best.

Can you not yourself?

- No, I'm not doing this right now (and even if I did, I't do it with your husband).

They behave completely incorrectly. They fuck me! I tell them Monday – Thursday at 19, they say that these days only 22 are free. I say on Saturday at 15, they say on Saturday I don’t work, what nonsense? Do they provide services or are they bullied?



Welcome to the world of demanding people, fuck.

In a dispute of two, a third is needed to dissolve them.

I go home after hard work. Transfer in the subway, the train arrives, I get into the wagon, the doors start to close. And suddenly, at the last moment, a girl jumps. I look and I can’t believe my eyes. This is my ex. Well, not directly the former-ex, there were just some short and unclear relationships, then themselves and collapsed. I was thrown out a barrel of complaints, said, I do not meet high standards, and I quoted the classic, in the spirit that your expectations are your problems. They separated like ships in the sea. This is such a meeting!
Well, whoever remembers the old, the eye out. We talked, I missed my stop, arrived at her station, called to go. On the road, suddenly a bar. We went, of course, to drink a shock. Then on the long, then led her home, offered to get up, I did not refuse, home, respectively, did not go. They drank all night and shake the old man. In the morning, when I was already calmed down and thought to sleep, I was put outside, saying, Mom soon from the night will come back, you need to be here.
I stand, almost sober, sleepy until dawn, at the hours without fifteen six, at nine for work. It was good to go in the shower. I understand that if I go home, it will be stupid; an hour home, 40 minutes home and it is time to go to work. I decide not to move around here, to rush into the office right away. We have there, opposite the office of the gentrior, a great couch stands, I have keys, a clock, or even one and a half, to sleep. Said is done. I came to the office, picked up somewhere, wrapped up in it, lay down and turned off. Only the thought turned - it is a pity that sleeping so little, I will not spit out...
And here I sleep desperately, I dream strange dreams. And right in the dream comes the realization that somehow suspiciously long I sleep. I open my eyes, all so excited and relaxed. At 12 o’clock, around, with echoes, colleagues sneeze, and I am lying without pants in the middle of the office, covered with a pledge.
I jump up, dress up, climb up to our office manager, saying what is happening. Ta replies that when she came, I calmly snorted on the couch, and the gentleman was sitting in his office and whispered on everyone so they didn’t noise and let me sleep. I then worked as a sysadmin, everyone thought that I was working again at night, I did important things for the company, and the gender protects me.
The word “confusion” only very approximately describes my state at the time. With mixed feelings, I touched the gender. He smiles like his father, pouches me a piece of some fashionable cognac, tells me that when he came and saw me, he immediately remembered his youth. But if he repeats again, he will be fired, even without waking up. Gold was human.

Citizen, go here
And you are who?
I am an officer of the Rosgard.
Please show me the documents.
I do not have to show up and present documents.
I am also an officer of the Roosevelt.
Show me the documents!
I am not obliged!

So sweetly smiled that it immediately became clear: now money in debt will ask.

During the Tsarist era, before the Revolution, Balaklava was not a district of Sevastopol, but only a small resort and fishing town 10 kilometers from the city. There lived and worked for a long time the great Russian writer Alexander Kuprin.
In Balaklava still stands his house and it is considered the home-museum of the great Russian writer Alexander Kuprin.
The local population, mostly the Greeks, to whom he devoted the story "Listrigons", loved the writer very much and he was very often drunk with the fishermen in the Balaklava cockroaches. One day, having gained a lot of local wine, Kuprin sent the tsarist minister Stolypin a telegram about the following content:
Balaklava is separated from the Russian Empire, becomes an independent republic, introduces its army and navy, as well as its money stamps and laws.
Signature: Free residents of Balaklava.
After reading the text of the telegram, Stolypin, knowing who is behind the signature "Free inhabitants of Balaklava", did not get offended and sent a telegram of the following content:
“Kuprin, when you drink – eat!
The signature is “Stolypin”.

Why does Soloviev not criticize Medvedev?
Uncomfortable, he is still a neighbor in a villa in Italy.

I was 5 years old. So it happened that my dad loved plov and often cooked it, but I, on the contrary, hated this dish with all my soul. And in general, getting me to eat was a rather difficult task. And one day, my father and I had this dialogue (further P-papa):

Do you want soup?

I : No.

Q: Why is it?

I: It is not delicious.

Q: And the salad?

I : No. I do not like.

P: Then I’ll make a shit for you tomorrow.

I (with an upset sight) what, again flooded what? by : (

P.S. I love to swim.

My husband has a friend, everyone calls him the dead man. I wondered where this nickname came from. The words of my husband. Leha lived in the village with her mother, an alcoholic. He looked after her and tried to cure her alcohol dependence. He had to work wherever he could, only to make money to code his mother from alcohol. He abandoned school, unloaded cars, and worked on construction. He collected money and took his mother to town. They coded. It wasn’t over a month, and she was again for a glass. Lecha could not withstand, was psychotic and left the city at night. No one year, two. I thought the building collapsed. There was no mother or business. I did not sweat. Three years later, a young man’s body was found in the forest. The mother recognized her son. Buried the boy. Neighbors gave her money. And she is happy. I did not drink vodka for breakfast. All of his large composition of alcoholics were drunk. There is no money left for the monument. The neighbors then photographed themselves and placed a cross. A year later, Leah returns from the city. It turns out that the guy has found a good job, even rents a room in the city, enrolled in part-time training. He did not use his documents anywhere after his arrival, nor did he know that he was buried long ago. In the village, as they saw a living boy, and even in the light in everything (it was summer), they barely rolled away. Since then they have been called dead.

When my daughter was three years old, my husband often went on business trips. And constantly brought small gifts to the child - a candy with cedar nuts from Barnaul, a churchela from the south, and so on.

And somehow he had to go to the Zapolar tundra, in the field conditions, where to the nearest city 100 kilometers. Our Lady heard that the father was on a business trip and asked:

“Papa, can you bring me something?

I explain to her that Daddy is going to the tundra, this is not a city, there is nothing sold.

There are no shops in the tundra, there is nothing to buy. Only a rabbit can be caught. (I have to say that I wanted to buy a living rabbit for a long time.) Do you like rabbits?

The child is revived:

and yes! Yes to! We are him... We are him...

Now, I think, he will say, “We will love him, take care of him, play...”

We will burn it and eat it.



I didn’t buy a rabbit.

Kostiya is an orphan, an old single and my best friend.



During my second pregnancy I fell asleep repair and Kostya visited us almost every week.

And here I am in the receiver of the maternity home, calls Kosta to clarify something about repair, I say:

“Costa, let’s go later, I’m now in the hospital.

Meaning in the hospital?

In the birthplace.

Silent silence at the end of the wire. I am :

Don’t tell me you didn’t see me pregnant.

Both are confused:

I thought you were fat and that was all.

At 16 years old: I ask if they will be at the party.

At 18 years old: I ask if I will be at the party.

At 20 years old: I ask if I will be at the party of Kalyan

At 25 years old: I ask if they will feed at the party

At 27 years old: I ask if I can not go to a party

I worked with a colleague (retirement age). He spent his childhood in places where peanuts were grown.

We asked him once:

-Victor Palych, here you all childhood grew up on the "barrel", tell me how to choose a garlic

-Now guys.. (everyone was silent, listened, remember the tail not the tail, the net, the boy / girl). You go past watermelons, take care of yourself, then “smell” it, break it, try it. If it is delicious, you eat; if not, you take another. There are no more secrets.

Today is my birthday. I decided to run to the sister of the deceased grandfather, to note, or not look at it for a long time - not good. She ran to the sushi so that the aunt did not bother herself cooking, she is 80, blind, and this time - and lunch is unusual (she likes sushi). I make an order and here I see - a birthday gift to order rolls to choose. Oh that wonderful!

I: Oh, and I have a birthday!

Can I get a passport?

I’m in my bag and I know I forgot it. Give it up!

- Guess, I say, there is no passport, but there is an idea.

I go to the office and show the cashier a tab with messages, where in a series of more than 50 greetings from different people.

- Okay, counted, - laughs the cashier, - choose the rolls!

Thanks to this lovely girl for understanding.

The colleagues shared.

The law firm is engaged in bankruptcy, liquidation mainly.

The arbitration manager instructs an employee (let us call her Galey) to send documents to the tax office of the city of N, for which he issues 500 rubles for postal expenses. The task is completed, receipts, the inventory of the investment are tailored to the case.



A few days later a call:

Is the arbitrator like that?

and yes.

- You are concerned by the inspector of the federal tax service of the city N. We have received your letter with the inventory of the investment. I have a question about the documents you submitted.

Ask to ask.

For what purpose did you give us 500 rubles?



The operator turns the phone to the side:

A-A-A-A-A-A-A-I-I-I-I-I-I-I

Someone has a food basket and someone has a budget basket.

The driver was Anton Pavlovich Chekhov. Currently in retirement. He is stopped somehow by a haishnik, takes documents, reads: Chekhov Anton Pavlovich.
“It is a pity,” he said, “that you are not Anatoly. It would be like a classic!

Where does the State Department get the money to fund Navalny?
Yes, from the taxes that our Russian officials pay for real estate abroad!

He went out for lunch to walk around the street and witnessed the painting.

A healthy dog, a shepherd, runs through the street, carefully smelling everything, as if looking for a place. And does nothing more.

And after him, a guy stretches on the lead and in the autumn the dog intelligently reports:

You are a simulator. I always said you are a simulator.

I went to my mom for a few days. Go to the store.

I take 2 liters of milk.

M is my mother.

I am her son.

M - Take another, it was done three days ago.

I - He's deadline is not yet over, I'll have time to drink.

M – But it’s more fresh.

I - Mom, well, if everyone will only take fresh, then the three-day will stay on the shelf, then it will be written off, the cost will increase the price. In the end, we will pay more.

My mother thought and kept silent for a few minutes. Then found it.

M is fresh. Old men will find out, they never look at the deadline!



Men seem to be guarding the country’s economy, even when they don’t know about it!