Movie Blog PeakFinancialMGT

Posts Tagged ‘russia’

Morning. I’m running late to work as usual. I’m rushing out of the door, buttoning myself up on my way. There’s Ivan Kuzmich sitting on the bench. Everybody calls him Grandpa Kuzya, he is about 80 years old, but his mind is not that of an old man at all.

- You’re in a hurry again? &ndash the old man asks.

- Yeah, no happiness in personal life, - I reply finishing buttoning up.

- That’s because you don’t know what happiness is, - he reproaches me.

It’s hard to put up, pay no heed that being 49 something I haven’t known happiness.

I stop short, realizing that now I’m sure to be late. But to catch the old man in his overweening delusion is far more important that telling-off at work. What could an elderly person know about happiness? If he ever had it, it was forgotten long ago.

- Ivan Kuzmich, and do you know what happiness is? Did you have a cool Mercedes, sexy mistress, pretty wife? And maybe you used to be The Party’s Secretary General? Or a major research worker? Maybe you found and proved the formula of happiness? Tell me. What is this all about?

- I’ll tell you just in a word as you’re in hurry. Just briefly and understandably.

Listen. Being at work do not think about alcohol and holidays. Celebrating a holiday do not think about work. Being next to your wife, do not think about mistress, while being with your mistress do not think about her husband. Don’t talk to a policeman about money and with kids and neighbors about your problems as the first won’t understand while the late will be glad. Don’t lend money, in the evening don’t borrow salt, don’t throw out garbage. Bring your salary home, don’t be jealous about your wife, check your kids’ marks, walk your dog sometimes. And the main thing &ndash always think before you say something. Don’t say anything just to say. You know, a word spoken in past recalling. And for the head working well eat cereal in the morning.

- So you want to say that if I think only about my wife, don’t think about vodka, don’t talk about money with cops, don’t borrow salt from my neighbor and eat cereal in the morning, I’ll be a happy man? Is that you formula of happiness?

- That’s it, that’s my formula of happiness, - the old man replies with joy, - and you should find yours yourself. When you find it, you’ll feel like a happy man.

- Hey, it looks like you’re talking just to kill time. Cereal, vodka, cops… why should you tell me all this?

- Well… yesterday I’ve been to a dentist. Been installed new dentures. He said that I should speak a lot to get used to them. And here you are, I talked to you and seem to get used…

When an adult suffers from а child disease, it is extraordinary painful. Just as it happened to me at the late Soviet time when I caught measles, was bedridden for three days with a fever heat of 40C and was going to die. But then a doctor came, diagnosed the rubeola, I was taken to a specialized hospital and alive and kicking in a couple of days.

I will never forget those three days - an awful headache, general muzziness because of high temperature and in three days no thoughts but those of fast and desired death. In the hospital I met a man of about 50 who told me his case history. Further narration is from the first person.

I’m not young already and all my age mates often club to start complaining of their illnesses - some have ulcer, others - pressure problems, etc. And I sit like an asshole and can’t keep the ball rolling since don’t have any serious diseases. There finally I fall ill, which made me really happy. “They will cure me” - I thought - “so at last I will have a good reason to beat gums with my aces”. I found myself in a contagious isolation ward of Botkin’s surrounded only by those with Joe Trots and where everyone carries his own altar in their arms. I was also given my own altar. I really joined the club. They analyze me but can’t find anything. At those times there appeared first reports of HIV-positive people in newspapers. The first one, as far as I remember, was a fellow from the foreign trade organization - a homosexual. That was the only association with AIDS. After failing to make a diagnosis the doctors decided that I had AIDS. And started putting me to the question. “Suppose you sleep with pants, come clean, we are doctors after all”. I deny this but they don’t believe me. They say: “Come on, faggot, we keep the medical secrecy”. Thus, a week passes (in three weeks I gave up).

I come up to my doctor and say: “All right, guys, make a diagnosis and treat me, I may take it till the day after tomorrow, or else I will leap out of the window - can’t stand it anymore”. The next day they hold a regular council when a pediatrician wanders in by mistake. On examining me, she diagnoses rubeola proceeding without visible hives for some reason, which prevented to make the diagnosis right. The day before yesterday I was brought here and now I’m well. The only thing I’m distressed about is that it’s even shameful to tell men about my experience - they discuss different serious ailments there and I have a child disease which is shameful to speak about let alone personal altars and how they passed me for a faggot. Then I have to hold my tongue.

The State University of Odessa. Late 1980-s. Department of Romance and Germanic Languages. And it means that only five or six rooms out of 50 were occupied by males. I should mention, that this ratio 1:10 really interfered with men’s concentration upon their studies.

I shared my room with a guy from Kiev, Ukraine, Semen Binder. The name speaks for itself. But he has now complexes about his ehtnicity and loved telling us and listening to various stories and anecdotes about Jews. By the way, one author complained of his poor fate that made him emigrate from Ukraine to Russia just to study. Bullshit! There were lots of Jews in our university, and as long as the action took place in Odessa, every inhabitant could be automatically called Jewish.

Well. In one of the rooms draught slammed the door, having left girls living there outside and their keys inside. Girls were wearing dressing gowns and slippers. Getting back into the room through the window posed a certain problem, as it was the fifth floor. Although one of the roommates had another key, she had gone to her town and was coming back only the next day. The only way out was to break the door. But how could delicate girls do that?! They turned to us for help, and we delegate Senya to them. First, he’s about 2 meters high and weights about 90 kilos. Second, his wife-to-be was living in that room.

We took our seats in the first row to be able to advise, but… we had no chance.

Senya runs and… having approached the door jumps up. The show is not for the nervous. Just imagine the body, 90 kilos, in its flight crashing with its head into the door jamb. The head rebounds like a billiard ball, while the body continues its movement, finally knocking out the door. Then everything falls to the ground: The door, Senya’s body, and what has left of his head. Anyway that’s what we were thinking at that moment.

But why does one want to laugh in situations like that?! We’re laughing like crazy, understanding though that something serious has happened. Then we hear the sound of another body falling: One of the girl fainted at the sight of blood. As she admitted later she had seen not only blood, but also brains. Whom should we bring round first?

Luckily, everything turned out all right. Senya got off cheap, with a broken head, a big bump and a slight concussion. But the funniest thing was that in 15 minutes there came the roommate who was to go home and brought the second key.

It turned out that she failed to buy a bus ticket and had to come back.

One of the best and funniest April Fool’s tricks was invented and played by me last year. I should say that my friend and me used to make fun of each other regularly on April Fool’s Day with varying success. That is my friend was on his guard and knew he should be ready for my dirty tricks, which made the task almost impossible to carry out.

Last year not long before April Fool’s Day Andrey returned from Canada, where he’d been on a business trip (both of us work as translators of English for one company but on different floors). On April 1st I called Andrey, having arranged beforehand that the telephone girl should interrupt our conversation in a couple of minutes and say that Mr. Andrey Polyarov has a call from Canada. After that she put him through with another telephone in our room, and I quickly answered it. I should say that to change my voice and create the effect of “long-distance call” I wrapped the blower with a sweater and made use of loud speaker instead of receiver. A lot of people were standing still around me, excited that Andrey might recognize my voice. But their fears were groundless &ndash he had no smallest piece of suspicion!

I started speaking in English, my voice being loud and very formal:

–Is this Mr. Andrey Polyarov?

Andrey, a little anxious, replies:

–Yes, this is me? Who am I talking to?

–This is “Otrinto” company, where on March 11th you ordered two commercial vending machines of a total value of 3,141 Canadian dollars…

-But I haven’t ordered any vending machines…

-Excuse me, is this Mr. Polyarov?

-Yes, this is me, but I haven’t ordered any vending machines, and I’m not going to pay anything. &ndash Andrey was starting to lose his patience. I went on insisting…

-I’m sorry but I have an order with your signature. By the way I remember you pretty well &ndash you’re a Russian, stout, baldish, speaking with accent, right?

-Right! But I repeat that I haven’t ordered these fucken vending machines…

-Sir, I should warn you that in case on non-payment within a reasonable time we’ll have to bring a legal action!

Andrey finally lost his temper, started yelling that he never knew any “Otrinto” company, never ordered anything and that I could stick my vending machines up my ass…

The audience in our room couldn’t suppress a laugh, every word from underneath the sweater resulted in a burst of Homeric laughter. I was chuckling myself and couldn’t speak and play my role anymore. I tried to clear the air.

-Andrey, this is me, Denis, April Fool! &ndash but it was vain. Andrey was shouting that he knew no Denis. He wasn’t even realizing that I was speaking Russian to him…

Of course I could go on further, providing Andrey with the details of his appearance, passport number, address… That’s what I had planned actually, but as I say it was absolutely impossible as my last words weren’t pronounced but were gurgling through the choking laughter.