One

The job Yuriy Volodymyrovich was talking about was at a school. Here’s the deal. An old friend of Yuriy’s was the principal of the school. And then, on one not-so-great day, the state auditors showed up. The school’s computer science teacher was, to put it bluntly, way past her prime. And, naturally, she knew about modern technology about as much as a wolf knows about the stars.

They only kept the old lady on because her husband had once been the principal of that very school. The current head honcho had been her star student back in the day. So, out of respect for those good old memories, he kept supporting the “lonely retiree,” as he called her.

But that wasn’t a good enough excuse for the auditors. A hefty, bald guy with a mean-looking face, who was the head of this whole inspection crew, put it bluntly:

“I’m giving you two weeks to fix this ‘problem’!”

And by “problem,” he clearly meant old Petrunelya Arkhipivna. No matter how much Ihor Dmytrovych, the principal, defended his “best teacher,” the verdict was final. Two weeks! Just two weeks! Where on earth was he supposed to find a replacement? Who even wants to work at a school these days?

The only solution was this: he had a buddy, Yuriy Volodymyrovich Zavakha. A good old friend from their school days. And this friend was some kind of manager or supervisor somewhere. Plus, Zavakha had a sharp young guy working for him who knew his way around computers.

“Might as well be him,” the head of the commission said with authority, pointing to the suggested candidate. “And I don’t care if he doesn’t have the right degree. I’m telling you this now, just as a friendly piece of advice. Because if you don’t, the inspections will keep coming. Again and again. There’s a clear directive to clear out the old-timers from schools. If you don’t comply, they might come after you next. That’s just how it is. You’d better take this guy, the one you know.”