October 8, 1993
Friday
13:15
Zhorik and I locked ourselves in the office, buried ourselves in calculators, tallied up the cost of the move. Came out to peanuts – five thousand dollars. Knocked back fifty grams of «Otard» for the housewarming, sketched out the org chart.
We marked the hierarchy with little squares – one, three, nine. Wrote R.V. Peskov into the top square, Yura, Kostya, and Marina into the middle ones. Moved on to the bottom.
Put Seryoga in the square under accounting, Gena under procurement, sent Pasha, Vovka, and Oksana to sales. Decided to leave the four remaining squares up to the department heads.
Called in Marina and Kostya, told them that starting Monday they’d be working in the building across the street. A trading house was being set up and the best of the best were being transferred there, vouchers be damned. Off you go, best of luck!
Marina and Kostya took the news indifferently. Doesn’t seem to matter to them what they do.
Next Zhorik called in Seryoga the computer guy and hit him with a question point-blank:
– Ready to step into a general’s post?
Seryoga froze for a couple of seconds, thought it over, and decided not to risk it. Started reasoning out loud that, well, on the one hand: «Ready,» but on the other hand, maybe he should think about it… Zhorik didn’t wait to hear the rest, jumped up: «Beauty! A beast. A beast of a man! A monster!!! You’re under Marina now, you’re setting up a computer department. You’ll be department head! What are you standing around for? What are you waiting for? Go pack your things!»
Seeing him out of the office, he sent him off with: «Don’t shit yourself, Serguna! Look like a wolf and bare your teeth! You’ll pass for a qualified specialist! Now hand off your duties to your assistant… what’s-his-name, Artyom. Right? Well, there you go. Hand off to Artyom and get yourself over to «Metallsnab» starting Monday. You’ll be building and running the computer accounting system. You get the magnitude of the task? Romka will meet you and explain. Understood? And you?»
I nodded to confirm. I’d meet him. What’s the problem? Specialists are needed. But I wanted first to figure out what actions to plan for Monday and how to anticipate the problems of the move.
Zhorik saw Seryoga out, stood by the window and hummed: «The pretty girls noticed the young lad, held out the hand of friendship, led him to the coal face». Out of nowhere he sighed: «Fine fellow, Masokha... just like me. Wrong time, wrong place».
Dashed off.
I stayed behind, bewildered. Settled into the conference room with Marina, Kostya, and Sergei, mapped out who was responsible for what.
Marina would become chief accountant. There were two openings in accounting. Konstantin would become head of procurement. Also two openings. Sergei would become head of the computing department, reporting to accounting, no openings. He’d manage on his own.
Marina spoke up. Reported that Lenochka the cashier was chafing at her accounting duties. Dreamed of going back to the register. Invited Lenochka into the conference room.
Two and a half minutes later we were buried in discussions of banknote counters, currency detectors, UV lamps and other accounting gadgetry that didn’t interest me in the slightest.
I rushed off to Zhorik for advice on how to motivate the swollen management apparatus. Zhorik informed me he had a different task at hand – shake the cash for the «Bucephalus» out of Vadik and get the «six-hundred» off Fyodor by evening, or else the limo would vanish, fall into someone’s light fingers, and that’d be the last anyone saw of it.
– The booze thing, – Zhorik concluded, – you handle yourself. Murky business, can’t be calculated. You know I’m always for a strong proof, but «profit-loss-balance-shmalance» is a dark forest to me. The Torus is on you. Don’t forget, we’re meeting with Petrovich tonight, the director of «Metallsnab.» Seasoned man. Throat and liver – cast iron. We’re drinking hard. Then sauna, girls, dacha, banya, girls, boat, fishing, girls… Drive yourself. Vasilich reported you can handle it.
– I’ll handle it.
It became clear that handling it – the car, and all of «Proma Impex’s» business – would fall to me alone. Zhorik’s mind was already off wandering somewhere in the distance, past the fishing trips and banyas and girls, nowhere to be seen…
I left the office, stood a while in the corridor, remembering the move into «VychMekh.» Nothing complicated – hauled out the junk, did repairs, set up the computers, tested them, got to work. Stop! One item drops out – there won’t be any repairs. Zhorik had cut it off flat: «No plastering! You’ll sit wherever you land, you’re not made of sugar. Profit first, comforts later!»
One problem fewer.
I went out to the lot, hopped into the Torus, looked around, took it in, sniffed the air. Gasped, drenched in happiness. Checked off the first item on a wish list that had never once occurred to me, yet had been fulfilled. Up until this moment Zhorik had been turning into reality dreams that had simmered in my head for months, years. This was different.
I’d never dreamed of a foreign car. It was beyond consciousness, beyond unconsciousness… It was beyond everything on earth. I’d never flown that far into the clouds. At best I’d pictured a «nine» the color of dry asphalt, five years down the road. A foreign car, personal property? Impossible. That’s a different life…
I ran my hand over the leather upholstery, stroked the knobs and switches, clicked the buttons, sank into daydreams… Pictured myself… Stop! There’s business to attend to!
Started the engine, remembered the radio was broken. Screw it!
Moved the gear selector to «drive,» froze for a second’s thought on where to head. To the Terem? No point. Meeting the «Metallsnab» director tonight. Made sense to go take a look at what they were offering.
Why walk? Could drive.
I was a motorist now…
