The person without the person or Who you are actually, the woman - the chief?
“Uuu, fascists“, - the lady without age, in a long black coat with contempt stared in the surveillance camera on the fence protecting the Estonian Embassy from the territory of the Russian Federation. “Miroslava Leonidovna, it is not necessary“, - I interfere and I hurry to take away the director far away from troubles.
“I will not go to the car!“ - it resists. A look I ask the driver Vitya to help, but he only makes a helpless gesture. “Miroslava, here! Miroslava, there!“ - the chief imitates me and continues by unsteady steps the way towards the center.
I do not know how it left. Saturday day, and she came to work, till the evening stayed in the office, spoke by phone. It did not bother me, I did not touch it. Then silence. And when I, provozivshis with the report to eight, went along a corridor to an exit, it suddenly appeared in the doorway of being able when it is dangerous to release the person where - or one. We with Vitya decided that I will be passed with them, I will take her home. But home the director did not wish.
We were lucky that on Saturdays in Moscow still it is possible to drive the car. We contemplated vicinities, admiring the updated view of the capital, but soon nevertheless it was necessary to stop - Miroslava decided to walk.
That evening I learned a lot of new. About the younger daughter - the clear head and the senior daughter - a razdolbayka, about that how many forces Miroslava should have grown up children of one while the husband wrote ballads and was engaged in self-knowledge. It became clear later that he learned himself rather well, living on two families at the same time. How once “in a box“ it was hated by all department for the fact that it one had real French perfume. About men that were in her life. It appears, among them there was even a Parisian. And that many years later after parting she met it by chance there, in Paris and that this meeting the bleeding hem passes through all her life to this day. I learned a lot of things about a ball of “snakes“ in which it should curl.
Miroslava was always a quite good speaker, but now she appeared in all beauty. We with Vitya hardly restrained not to burst out laughing at the top of the voice. But not so much from the turns used by it in the speech, how many from that peppered truth which we learned about the loshchenykhdama from time to time appearing at our office. They always seemed to me so faultless in style that to a disgrace it was pleasant to listen to about the fact that behind soul each of these age silicone dolls has the, specifically smelling history “about it“.
The word of honor even if tomorrow to will dismiss me, I will never regret about this evening, my self-assessment grew many times. And still I understood why I will never become a head. And all my rejection of this person disappeared at the very same time.
The director, not very well who is he, bears unreasonable freight of responsibility, and any its decision is subordinated to it. He cannot just take and leave. The big salary, an opportunity to come to work, when necessary, is not able to compensate these moral expenses. to
Got from Miroslava and to men. Especially that with whom it had to work. Unclear by what criterion measuring minds, they deliver it an array of problems, the majority of which well are not connected with work in any way. It is necessary to admit that in the 50 with a tail the director looks excellently. She knows the own worth and is able to present herself.
It the great manager capable to find a way out in outer darkness to be turned inside out, but to achieve the. The real sprinter applying all the talents at the same time. It changes images as Great Goodwin, proceeding from the aims which pursues. And that is surprising, every time it is trusted! Trust its images! Consider as the magician. Around it always someone turns, fawns, looking for indulgences in rather closed soul.
It skillfully uses it, receiving a share to necessary each woman of flattery and, of course, for promotion of the plans. But now we with Vitya feel how these slugs in suits from Versace with the hair smoothed to dirt are nasty to it.
The director is forced to suffer and play the hypocrite for the sake of business for which he is responsible. He will suffer a disgusting “bag with money“ even if that causes in it an emetic reflex.
Everything that anyway rotates around it, including passing men, employees - potboilers, useless children, the work which got to the core and Moscow with its eternal medley of dirt and reagents, she would exchange for one day with that, from Eliseysky.
“But I have on it no right. The director has only one right - to think of work 24 hours a day “, - she concludes and flops on a back seat. I sit down nearby.
It is necessary, she is a person! And in the most real sense of this word, but not some sexless robotic creation as it seemed to me. The woman, from flesh and blood, defenseless and even in something unfortunate. Practical, as the German, temperamental, as the Spaniard, elegant, as the Frenchwoman who absolutely lost herself after gudvinovsky “images“.
The director, as well as any person, has the views of different things. But unlike other people, can not always share these views. Even in the narrowest circle.
... Already almost there came Sunday. Soon again for work. “Miroslava Leonidovna, took a walk? Home we will go?“ - with hope and even some friendly participation I ask. The director, apparently, does not hear. She lies on a back seat and looks an indifferent look somewhere. Inside it has heat, her thoughts in fog. We pass the Moskvoretsk tower of the Kremlin. “Uuuu, Voooov“, - the director mutters and in a minute it is forgotten by a strange uneasy dream.
Perhaps, tomorrow it will consider that blurted out inadmissibly much, but this its business. The director is forced to take drastic measures concerning personnel, understanding that these measures can become fatal for the person. He makes decisions, often overcoming own emotions.
“After all this it is obliged to marry us!“ - I giggle. Vitya knowingly winks at me in a rear-view mirror: “Tomorrow, Ir. Tomorrow also marries! First of all“.