Ah, the esteemed art of workplace relationships. A delicate dance, often fraught with more peril than a tightrope walk over a chasm of budgetary constraints. Our anonymous narrator, currently enjoying the boundless freedom of “unemployment,” offers a retrospective on his various attempts to navigate the treacherous waters of professional interaction. His tales serve not merely as amusing anecdotes, but as invaluable (and perhaps dearly paid for) lessons in the subtle — and not-so-subtle — complexities of dealing with those who sign your paychecks. Or, as it turns out, don`t.
The Lawnmower Lesson: When Professional Boundaries Get Mowed Down
Our protagonist`s first venture into the world of gainful employment began in an obscure, yet reputedly successful, “cooperative.” The initial signs were curiously unassuming: sparse furnishings, a parsimonious boss who wouldn`t even offer a glass of water. A refreshing change from the usual corporate pomp, one might think. Yet, this particular chapter culminated in a rather abrupt termination, largely due to the narrator’s own regrettable propensity for excessive compliance.
The first major red flag arrived in the form of a weekend invitation to the boss`s dacha. The occasion? A celebration of a newly acquired, super-powerful lawnmower. One could argue, quite reasonably, that a subordinate`s personal time should remain inviolable, untainted by the whims of their superiors. However, as our narrator wisely (or perhaps unwisely) observed, declining such an invitation from a “powerful colleague” could lead to mortal offense. An act of professional suicide, if you will.
Upon arrival, a substantial cohort of guests converged around a formidable, self-made oval dining table, complete with a rotating centerpiece laden with a smorgasbord of homemade delicacies. The scene quickly devolved into a culinary free-for-all, with guests spinning the “wheel of fortune” (a rather poignant comparison to Las Vegas casino shrimp, as our narrator wistfully recalls) to snag their desired morsels. Our hero, unfortunately, found himself relegated to the meager offerings that escaped the collective scrum, all while silently gulping down moonshine.
With inhibitions loosened by the spirited libations, the assembly moved to the lawn to ceremoniously unveil the impressive new lawnmower. It was a marvel of engineering, or so the boss claimed. Our narrator, emboldened by the potent brew and a misplaced sense of expertise, blurted out that such a magnificent machine would make mowing a pleasure, boasting of his own experience with “agrarian technology” in “African heat.” He then authoritatively (and apparently quite audibly) added that any flaws in this “reliable model” wouldn`t appear for at least a year. A solid piece of machinery, indeed!
Naturally, being the only one bold enough to offer such an unsolicited technical assessment, he was swiftly nominated to “personally test” the “miracle device.” The crowd, baying like an ancient Roman mob in the Colosseum, eagerly awaited the spectacle. Our narrator, the gladiator of green, was cornered. He grasped the rubberized handles, reminiscent of bull`s horns. The complex mechanism coughed twice and died. A stationary hulk of metal, refusing to budge.
The spectators, now fully amused, jeered at the “expert” who couldn`t even make the engine roar. He could have blamed a defect, or, more shrewdly, redirected the blame to the unsuspecting boss. But no, our narrator was too “honorable” to throw his superior under the bus. A decision he would later regret. He was forced to dismantle the engine, becoming thoroughly covered in grease.
As evening descended and the guests, now somewhat sober, began to depart, the boss, with an air of profound trust, declared that he was entrusting our “competent, advanced expert” to return the “contraption” to the store for assessment and a complaint. If a replacement was refused, he was to threaten legal action and a complaint to the consumer protection committee. This punitive expedition was scheduled for the following morning. Our narrator, left as a hostage, was offered a polite overnight stay.
No sooner had he drifted off than the boss`s nimble daughter slipped into his bed, under the pretense of discussing the intricacies of the mower`s return. The next morning, the boss greeted him as a prospective son-in-law. Realizing the tangled web he`d stumbled into, our narrator abandoned all hope of promised career advancement and, instead, offered the “tempters” the distinct pleasure of certifying their own faulty merchandise. He simply vanished. A tactical retreat, if ever there was one.
The Christening Conundrum: Aesthetic Blindness and Social Faux Pas
One might assume that the lawnmower debacle would have instilled a profound sense of caution regarding proximity to management. Alas, not so. Our narrator, ever the eager beaver, found himself once again drawn into the orbit of a new boss, engaging in “heart-to-heart” conversations after hours and receiving an invitation to the christening of his newborn son. They bonded over the weighty topic of marital fidelity, with the boss, a self-professed prude, declaring his conjugal relations were solely for the noble purpose of producing healthy heirs, devoid of any base desires.
Our narrator, eager to align himself with such a virtuous stance, attended the celebration with a light heart, confident that a city apartment precluded any lawnmower-related mishaps, and that a young couple wouldn`t likely have an adult daughter lying in wait. He felt secure that the boss`s “highly moral” wife would not, at least initially, attempt any advances on a first-time visitor in her husband`s presence. A logical assumption, one might think.
Due to the inevitable Moscow traffic, our hero arrived slightly late. The festivities were already in full swing. He noticed, with a touch of surprise, that both nannies hired to care for the infant were actively participating in the feast, while the baby cooed in the next room. A minor incongruity, perhaps, but one that didn`t warrant deeper thought. He did, however, commend the employers` aesthetic discernment: both nannies were quite “acceptable” in appearance. He gravitated towards the fresher-looking of the two.
In a misguided attempt to flatter both the nanny and his hosts, he began to “court” her. “From a young age,” he prattled, pouring her champagne, “I`ve preferred simple beauties. The child will grow up admiring the governess`s incomparable beauty, as if she were a masterpiece from the Dresden Gallery.” This pronouncement, to his delight, earned the approval of the boss`s parents, the child`s grandparents. The object of his compliments, however, visibly recoiled.
It transpired that his “wonderful” boss had taken a wife (or perhaps she had taken him?) with the manners of a servant! This, our narrator mused, spoke volumes for his boss`s character: truly great individuals, as he rightly considered his boss to be, transcend class prejudices, embodying the leveling of caste disparities. Meanwhile, arrogant, conceited fellows, it must be admitted, sometimes impose excessive, absurd demands on the appearance and demeanor of their low-born companions. The democracy, tolerance, and overall benevolence of his boss were truly admirable!
Our narrator finally disengaged from the blushing silent woman only when the boss`s parents began loudly chastising their son: “We warned you, she`ll cheat with everyone she meets.”
Desperate to salvage the situation, he belatedly switched his attentions to the second quiet woman, trying to compensate for his previous blunder. It was then revealed she was, concurrently, the mistress of his boss`s ninety-year-old grandfather.
Unsurprisingly, he was dismissed. Again.
The Cynic`s Compass: When Self-Interest Becomes the Only Guide
Having exhausted the conventional pathways of employment, our narrator embarked on a new career: a tour guide. Here, he swiftly established his guiding principle: profit extraction. Traversing the historical sites of Moscow and the Golden Ring, he honed his craft of self-serving narratives.
During his lengthy, convoluted historical dissertations on famous personalities, he would innocently interject: “By the way, tomorrow (or today) is his (or her) birthday, just like your humble servant.” After such a revelation, it would be an unforgivable sin for the grateful tourists, whom he assiduously flattered, not to pool their resources for a gift for their esteemed guide.
Upon arriving at the Novodevichy Convent, he would recount the story of Sophia, Peter the Great`s sister, who spent years imprisoned in a cell there. He would then point out the barbaric inscriptions scrawled on the ancient brick walls by visitors: “Dear Sophia, help me lose 15 kg,” “Help me find love,” “Help me quit smoking.” And then, without a shred of shame, he would lie, claiming he, too, had made a similar plea, and that for four years he had abstained from alcohol and tobacco. Immediately after, he would pull out a cigarette and light up.
Remarkably, no one seemed to notice the glaring, flagrant illogicality! They believed in the magic of otherworldly interventions in earthly nonsense! Why not, when deception reigns everywhere? “Healers” extract pig cartilage from the bodies of gullible patients, presenting these scraps as blood clots that had supposedly clogged their arteries. At auction, they offer to sell Viktor Tsoi`s passport, supposedly found in his apartment behind the refrigerator, or the miraculously preserved license plate of the car in which he crashed. Advertisements hawk worn jeans, allegedly ripped from Vladimir Vysotsky during his agony.
Our narrator, embracing his new role as purveyor of the absurd, never missed an opportunity to declare his readiness to supply “rarity dealers” with artifacts of immense value: Alexander Galich`s television set, which, when touched, delivered a fatal electric shock (a suitable, antiquated piece of junk he`d spotted in a landfill), or the bumper of the truck that, by Stalin`s decree, ran over theater director Solomon Mikhoels.
Conclusion: Beyond the Battlefield of Bosses
The tales of our now-unemployed narrator serve as a stark, albeit darkly humorous, reminder of the intricate dance that is professional life. From the perils of excessive compliance that lead to bizarre family entanglements, to the social minefields of informal gatherings with superiors, and finally, to the cynical embrace of self-interest, his journey offers a unique perspective. It underscores the critical importance of setting clear professional boundaries, discerning genuine relationships from manipulative ploys, and perhaps, maintaining a healthy skepticism towards both those who lead and those who are led.
“Ultimately, the line between career advancement and utter absurdity is often thinner than one might imagine. And sometimes, the most valuable lesson is realizing that not every boss`s whim is a command, and not every social invitation is a genuine gesture. Some, as our narrator discovered, are merely traps disguised as opportunities.”
His current state of unemployment, far from being a tragedy, might simply be the logical outcome of a man who saw too much, complied too much, then perhaps exploited too much, until he simply couldn`t play the game anymore. Or, perhaps, he found a more honest living in telling stories, even if some of them are, shall we say, creatively embellished. The real moral, it seems, is that sometimes, to truly build relationships with your boss, you first need to understand where the professional ends and the ridiculous begins.
