We waited almost two years for our house to be completed (we bought an apartment in a building under construction). We walked around the construction site and watched the floors grow.
And exactly four years ago: we received a message that the house is ready! We were, of course, incredibly happy; but they delayed. On December 1 we took possession of the apartment.
We thought we'd move into the new apartment right away. But after that, we found out that it was very cold. (15°C/59°F in the corner room. The story is complicated and long; and it's not about that.)
While I was driving to the apartment to do the cleaning, I noticed a (professional) mover on the floor, and asked for his phone number. Maybe we'll move soon?
For a long time we were tormented by doubts about what to do... They delayed until the last moment.
And on the eve of the New Year, we made the same decision - to move. I called this mover and arranged for our furniture to be moved.
December 31st, early in the morning: a cargo taxi and two movers arrived at our private home, the home of my husband's parents. The second one, as it turned out, was the brother of the one we called.
I arrived to visit; he was drunk. Clearly, a stormy night...
I wrinkled my nose in disgust, for this young man's soul was inhuman. But then I thought: "What importance is the mover? The main thing is that the furniture is moved..."
Then he started making excuses:
"I came from Moscow yesterday to visit my family. We sat and celebrated! And then my brother calls, saying we need to help."
I nodded (pleaded) at our belongings: "All right, (please) help me!"
I wanted to have time to transfer everything, do the cleaning, and complete the old year.
But the mover did not stop! He talked about himself - about how he came from such a family (nods at his brother) and became a man. He went to live in the capital, against all odds! I started my own business there...
"It was difficult to start. But now I'm the one who is (great)! I live in Moscow. I came here to visit my parents; I help them" he said in a slurred voice, with a growing accent and a sense of self-importance.
"Such a flood of words!" I decided for some reason. His one tooth was knocked out; his face was badly crushed, and there was a strange, plain expression on it. Yes - and an unbearable vapor. I bit my lip nervously, trying not to say something hurtful...
"We need to get there before lunch," I said. I didn't encourage his story; I wasn't interested in listening to his drunken fantasies.
"Yes, yes, we will all have time, bewear!" (misspoken word) He gave me a friendly pat on the shoulder.
Finally, he started – his brother grabbed our cabinet, and needed a partner.
"Can I hang up my jacket? I'll get it dirty, I just bought it. It is expensive, made of genuine leather, primo" he said.
I pointed to the coat rack.
They dragged everything to the truck, sat down and went. We followed them in our car.
Already there on site, he again hooked onto my ears. I'm usually delicate; it's awkward for me to interrupt. So I smiled and listened; and he continued to pour words (from his mouth):
"I have my own firm in Moscow. I am the director!" he said importantly. "I'm not getting a wife and kids yet. There is no time, you know - there is a lot of work. Here I thought I would rest; but here I was asked to work. Well, to refuse my brother..."
Then his brother could not stand it:
"Get to work! Don't talk."
I then asked the brother of the "Moscow director":
"Is he really?"
"Well, yes. He's my boss - he sells books. The business is ours, and our parents pay for the house. They swear. And he promises that he will soon... get rich. He's not so bad! Just a fool."
And he did not refuse to work as a part-time mover.
So they moved all our things to the apartment, and I got ready to clean.
And I thought: what if his dream really comes true? And he becomes rich and famous?
Mr. Vaughn, the founder of McDonald's franchise company, also started as a traveling salesman...