Onliner.by reporter Alexander Chernukho: we are despised, but the money is not shy



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Alexander Chernukho is a journalist in the "People" department. Tsatsa. He has a weakness for mental restoration and does not like it when they treat people badly. Even if they deserve it.

Thanks to office work, you have a lot of useful skills. For example, you will learn to accurately determine the cheapest and most delicious catering points within a one kilometer radius. Good, lazy kilometer stomp, so reduce the search area to 500 meters. And now our little Ulysses already chooses painfully between the dining room, where the vapors of the fifth oil and the shock of aluminum break up the heartburns, and between the coffee, where the man beaten by the wrinkles of life, like barge carriers, pulling smoke from hookah in themselves.

Luba still meets in the dining room – a woman with a penetrating prosecutor's look, as if you were a naked and affectionate maternal intonation with regard to each Stolovski's name

– Well, what about my boy? Krasnenki or a pea? – Lyuba looks at you, as if some sort of podkolkoj. Like he knew something about you. And while you hesitate to make a choice, she makes you drop a plate on a plate, and a flyer flies off and causes a joyous fireworks made of crushed potatoes.

Dinner in such a place is a special color and a holiday. Lyuba organizes a joyous attraction for each guest and can even accept that the pancake is only served with sour cream, without a rotisserie. Service, show, for which it is not a pity to pay with stomach burns and a lingering smell of the "fifth" oil in the hair.

A dull man sits down on the road and slowly exercises a phalanx of his right thumb on the phone screen. Hookah smoke slowly spreads in the legs with a milky fog, and it seems that on the stage, the young Alla Pugacheva will come out and sing an iceberg in the ocean. But Alla Pugacheva does not go out, and she's already old. A light guy does not stop surprising. Ten minutes later, the waitress looks at the newspaper with empty eyes and repeats: "The potato is over."

Lieutenant Colombo is intrigued by this turn of events and I am conducting my own investigation. Lunch started an hour ago and will last three more. How did it suddenly happen that, in a half-empty cafe, he stopped so quickly? The waitress is silent and strokes eyelashes so that the hummingbird becomes mad with envy. On the table is a soup, in which a makaronina floats gently, and pilaf, abundantly watered with ketchup. Ketchup. Plov. The waitress looks at me with a look that can be stained nuts, and barely audible says: "I'm going to give the cook" . I take a spoon in my hands and I'm sad for Lyuba, "red" and "fifth" oil.

Tired. Tired every day of seeing a waitress in front of him with a stony face and selfish intentions. To see it everywhere: in public transport, when you try to enter a half-empty bus, and from the doors, you look at two pairs of eyes that "go through one". In the center of the medical center, where "We do not know how to help you." – "And if yes?" – "Yes, we can." Every centimeter of the public space, you are greeted by a "waitress" behind which hides an invisible cook, to whom you can stuff everything.

The way out of this situation is usually simple: leave this cafe and never come back to it. Let's leave those who suit him. A hamovataya waitress with eyelashes-hummingbirds, a man in nargile smoke and an empty soup. They accept these rules of the game and are ready to live with them. Otherwise, the coffee would be closed a long time ago. But it does not close. In addition, it will take a little longer, and the owner of this cafe or another will say: "The public has deteriorated … Many" extra "people" [19659010] We have a cafeteria easily screened even to the greatest number, which they like to justify the quality by the quality and the preferences of the public. So they say: "You know, we'd better, but you want it too." Are there any queues for the festival? Well, because you do not come when you need to come. Eat a little? Well, you come to listen to music, but not to eat. Do you entertain with anything? No, well, it's usually arrogant – we brought you artists.

So it was recently. Festival, airfield, rain, mud. I went to the festival park – there is no return, no one will let you warm up. Eat cold food, queuing to boil water, look for a raincoat. But you paid little to have the opportunity to see your favorite artist – not enough to do it in acceptable conditions. For this money, you must suffer.

In general, it's easy to understand that not too many people are willing to spend their time and money on an event where trouble is waiting for you on every street corner. It is clear that the public is not yet ready for service, for the big stars our people are not yet ripe, so let's eat what they give. "The waitress" is always right, the cook is always invisible, in the kitchen and too busy.

And then suddenly the "mess" of the public happens. It has a shelf life or something like that. One day it happened that the photographer went to the festival and, somehow, he did not photograph the audience that needed to be photographed. For this public, what would have been necessary, were "collective farmers" who were resting in a nearby sanatorium. The organizer of the event was cruel in his position and the photographer demanded to be fired immediately. Because there is a "good" audience, and there is "bad" – this is not welcome. A striking attitude towards the guilty should be an event where one earns money.

This is always the case with mbad events. There is an important phrase "our Central Asia", and there are always words like "cover" and "targeting". Well, you know it yourself. And I have a good idea about it: give merry t-shirts with the Central Asian inscription right at the entrance. While the "waitress" scanned you with a look and said imperiously: "Yes, you are Central Asia.Here is a t-shirt for you.And you, my boy, get out of here. here, why are you hitting here? " And if someone slipped on the territory of a mbad event without a T-shirt, he will be immediately identified, will draw conclusions and next year will be permanently banned. Because our CA is ready to face the waiting line, to eat a lubricant, to drink a beer from the title sponsor and to listen to the artist you've already heard ten times and that you will surely hear again. And if you are not satisfied, your wishes will be given to the cook and next year the soup will be even tastier.

When you do not appear in the dining room, Lyuba is still sad. Throw a chop when you can not decide on the choice, or add one more as a regular customer. She has at her disposal a modest budget and avaricious tools, but anyway a woman with a strabismus piercing manages to make this show. So are you "red" or "pea"?

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