Offer
That night Oleg had a nightmare. Frightening in its unambiguous resemblance to his own personal realities, and therefore even more unpleasant. Don’t take us wrong – he didn’t dream of snakes crawling out of the skull of a horse in a black coat, and in his modesty of soul he did not even consider himself prophetic like his famous ancestor. He dreamed that night of broad lines of proudly marching men with horns and hooves, in all the languages of the underworld demanding him to accept their extremely tempting offer and to sell his own soul. Different prices were proposed: one of them was prepared to pay with “the wonderful crockpot that can turn any housewife into a queen of the kitchen”, the second offered him “the most powerful wet vacuum cleaner with a dozen of the latest universal tips”, the third was advertising “the new model of iPhone XR with advanced artificial intelligence system, capable to predict the actions of its owner”, and someone was even ready to part with “EPC-W Darling 2000”, that could be translated into a common human language as “Electron-positron cyber wife, model “Darling”, year of manufacturing 2000”.
All their extreme obsession and absurd tactlessness angered Oleg’s soul so greatly that at the end of this unearthly marketing hell-knows-what, he wanted to shout to all of them, who had surrounded him in a circle and were still mercilessly pointing their raking hands with otherworldly trojan “gifts” in his direction, “Go to hell, demons!” But then, with the help of some innate instinct, he finally realized that swearing at those to whom the devils themselves do not even hold a candle is the height of meaninglessness, much higher than all the modern achievements of earthly advertising combined.
And so he stood, shaking and refusing, while those who were doing their dirty work vied with each other about the delights of their proposed goods. But, fortunately, much in this as well as the other life has the trait of being limited in time, so this nightmare of not so prophetic Oleg ended. Continuing to grumble softly under his nose and rubbing his eyes with own fists, still dumbfoundedly staring in the direction of the alarm clock, which was showing ten o’clock in the morning, Oleg with a long-ago learned habit and immutable inevitability of yet another advertising call and staggering gait went to the bathroom in order to clean up a little after this lowly and violent night.
He was distracted from another sacred session of morning shaving by the phone that was bobbing from the vibrations on the chair. Oleg didn’t share the morning joy of his gadget at this moment – and, damn it, was he right.
“Good morning!” without unnecessary shyness joyfully shouted in Oleg’s ears the unknown voice of an even less well-known young man, had Oleg only to take the case of management of the ringing phone in his strong male hands. “I would like to talk to Oleg Alexandrov. Is that you?” – the voice on the phone confirmed the complete seriousness of his own intentions.
“Let’s say that you are lucky today, and it’s really me. What are we going to do with this fact?” still sleepy Oleg muttered into the phone, trying to hold the razor with his other free hand.
“Your Internet provider “Network achievements LLC” has prepared a unique new year’s offer specially for you! Only until the end of December this year you can switch to our new year’s tariff “freakynet” for just a thousand rubles and increase the speed of your internet connection by twenty megabits during January and February next year. Starting from March next year the cost of this service will be only two hundred rubles per month. We are also happy to offer you a service to insure your TV and Wi-Fi router from being harmed by lightning. The cost of this service is only three hundred rubles per month. This unique offer is valid only until the end of December. Well, do you agree to take advantage of our new terms of service, Oleg Alexandrovich? To confirm your consent and switch to the new tariff, please say “I confirm”, to refuse, say “no way”.
“No, hey!” Oleg muttered into the phone as soon as the smallest pause occurred in the monologue of chattering in his phone human-robot, allowing Oleg to intercept the verbal initiative.
“Excuse me? What were you saying?” came the voice at the other end of the line. “Do you confirm your consent?”
“Never! Never-ever did I give my consent to be disturbed by your early morning intrusive calls!”
“Too bad!” answered the nameless disappointed voice on the phone, clearly deeply annoyed by the fact that he didn’t manage to earn for himself another new year’s increase in his salary bonus. “Nevertheless, maybe I interest you in our offer to insure your Wi-Fi router?”
“Do you insure it from a falling meteorite?»
“Unfortunately, at the moment our company doesn’t provide such services. But we will definitely pass your offer to our sales department. I wish you all the best and to see you again!” Oleg was convincingly assured of the inevitability of their next meeting and then a young voice immediately hung up the phone without waiting for new original proposals for their marketing department.
Being no longer interrupted by morning advertising calls – “not a single break of silence!” – Oleg successfully finished the procedure of morning shaving and went to the kitchen to brew himself some coffee in order to awaken his still sleepy brain and cheer up his still timid spirit. He was definitely late for work, and today’s plan would almost certainly not be fulfilled, which meant that he would not see the weekly salary bonus as his own ears.
“Fuck this award, anyway,” Oleg reflected, continuing to brew coffee grains in a pot. “From such work, all sorts of demons are haunting me in my own dreams. Man, it’s time for you to find a proper job for yourself!” Oleg decided this morning for the umpteenth time. What a pity that the harsh everyday life in the capitalist economy within a single capital so often decided otherwise!
How irritating was this merciless obsession of advertisers and salesmen, from which he could find salvation only in the evenings, sitting at the computer in headphones and listening to heavy rock while rocking steadily in his chair in time with his own no less heavy than rock thoughts. And for what goddamn reason did he get such a fate, anyway?
Just yesterday, for instance, a “Shirby” vacuum cleaner salesman had arrived unexpectedly and unsightly. This “unique in its characteristics” vacuum cleaner produced a set of noises similar to that of a jet plane, screeching in all the voices of hell and trying, apparently, to dissuade Oleg from its possible acquisition, and during the demonstration two of its tips were completely broken. On sarcastically crossed arms over his chest and Oleg’s ironic look, the seller Rashanom didn’t even react, hardly puffing and switching something in his miraculous unit in the hope of still make it working again. At some point in time, these hopes were even justified – though not for long. Within ten minutes after being turned on again, the infernal engine of the infernal vacuum cleaner had stalled and ceased to give the slightest indication of what might have been considered as his personal technical life. Along with the engine, the chattering salesman fell silent, having silently realized as clearly as possible that against the background of utter silence his cheerful voice sounded somehow not so confident.
“That’s not Shirby, but a Shirley-Mirley of sorts!” Oleg laughed. “And it costs just – how much did you say? – a hundred thousand rubles?”
“We are ready to give you a discount for this unique unit equal to…” tried to save his sinking position Rashan. But the act of saving drowning people, as they say…
“The door is over there,” Oleg hinted softly. “We thank you for demonstrating the capabilities of your product. At the present moment, our company in the person of me is not ready to buy it, unfortunately.”
“Perhaps, you can share phones of your acquaintances or colleagues?” the seller of miraculous vacuum cleaners tried to grab the last straw of hope.
“I don’t have any spare friends to share! I’m a lonely maniac!” Oleg barked and moved on to the seller of jet vacuum cleaners with such conviction that he quickly hurried to retire for the previously indicated door, hastily packing his miracle-unit without any further unnecessary questions.
“That’s our type of fate, apparently,” reflected Oleg, continuing to devour rich coffee together with a couple of homemade sandwiches.
“Ding!” Oleg was distracted by the ringing of the doorbell, clearly signaling that his uneasy fate once again brought someone to his own doorstep.
“Pray tell us, do you believe in God?” synchronously, slyly, sweetly and without superfluous representations, two newly appeared old women sang to Oleg’s ears when he slightly opened an entrance door. “Jesus Christ, who passed through the death for our sins,” one of them decided to clarify just in case.
“Perhaps. It really depends on the mood,” Oleg tried to laugh it off.
“Would you like to know more about our Savior and his way?” just in case asked one of the old women, flipping through the pages of carried book in her obvious intention to strike Oleg on the spot with her own ability to read printed texts aloud.
“Does your God happen to be black? For I am, you know, a real type of racist,” Oleg decided to go on the offensive. “And I had a B mark in school in foreign languages. So I really hope that he speaks Russian!”
“How dare you!” protested one of God’s witnesses. “Of course, he understands all our languages. But our most important language is the language of the soul! Just listen to what he tells to his children…” started speaking the second old woman with a book, flipping with confident movements over several pages of the book at once.
“That you must believe his words and not those of some impostors? I knew that long before you came along.”
“Our God is merciful, he is ready to forgive your sins for a small fraction…”
“I haven’t rewritten my apartment to him for a long time? By the way, I would not advise you doing that either – Russia, as they say, was spoiled by the housing issue. We have no money, but we’re holding on. C'est la vie, arrivederci, hasta la vista – how do they say? We sincerely ask you to come next time with a real, genuine Christ. Until we meet again!” giving sectarians no time to recover, Oleg slammed an entrance door leading to their missed opportunities.
Having finally lost all hope to fulfill his current work plan in time, Oleg hastily threw the half-eaten sandwich in his travel bag, poured the rest of the coffee in a thermos, threw a winter jacket over his shoulders and in a hurried stance started moving in the direction of his own new year’s fate.
No sooner had he reached the bus stop than the phone happily informed him of a new – absolutely free of charge! – incoming call.
“Fearfallashfinance Bank is glad to offer you, our past regular client, new conditions and types of credit cards. The credit card’s issue has already been pre-approved for you by our bank. In order to receive it, if you agree to the updated terms of the credit agreement, you must…”
“Turn away in disgust!” Oleg somehow miraculously managed to interrupt the monologue of the bank employee that was uttered in a patter a second before pressing the coveted red button of his phone.
“No amount of red buttons will be enough for your kind,” he thought with annoyance, jumping into the opened door of the newly arrived bus.
Billboards glittering with all the colors of the rainbow. Young people peremptorily pushing colorful flyers into your hands. Huge screens on the walls of houses and shopping centers, day after day demonstrating their pre-recorded, pre-approved and pre-biased videos. Appearing here and there as if straight from the ground along the way advertising boxes. Morning Moscow was greeting Oleg from all sides with the mouths of its marketers, leaving no chance to remain uninvolved in this colorful nonsense.
On the move, dropping a call from yet another “Center for public opinion research”, persistently interested in the political views of his respondent and his attitude to sexual minorities, panting Oleg ran into the office of his permanent, but no more joyful workplace, maneuvering on the move between scurrying here and there like ants colleagues, more resembling cellmates for Oleg.
“The boss didn’t show himself?” he managed to ask a question to his colleague Lyudmila just a second before seeing his boss, who was confidently and imperiously heading straight to him with an expression that didn’t portend a single award.
“Oh my, isn’t that the appearance of Christ himself – sorry, just some pitiful Oleg! – to mankind!” the boss said sarcastically through his teeth. “That’s it, Oleg. If you want to keep at least a quarter of the new year’s bonus, quickly pick up the goods and sweep through the addresses. Lyudmila has already entered the current list into your database. And return only empty-handed!” the boss uttered his well-known in local circles joke, bared a pair of golden teeth and smoothly, slightly swaying from side to side like a heavy galleon under unruly winds, sailed off to his office.
“Out of sorts?” Oleg nodded understandingly in the direction of the boss.
“And when was he in?” without taking her head off the keyboard said Lyudmila and held out a sheet of paper leaning out of the printer.
“Here are the addresses. Goods are in the storehouse. Off you go!” she smiled. “Otherwise you will be left without a bonus for certain.”
* * *
“Who’s there?” a voice came from the speaker of the intercom.
“Santa Claus!” Oleg uttered the memorized phrase.
“All right, come in. Make happy at least someone in this dark and cruel world,” came the answer, and the door obediently opened.
Nine floors of the next old building.
“Hello, Santa Claus! Brought us rubbish? How it goes?” Oleg mentally mocked himself.
An iron door on the ground floor with carved wood paneling. Looks solid. There’s a chance.
Oleg adjusted his rented black business suit, coughed a couple of times, trying to clear his throat, and pressed the doorbell.
“Who the hell that winter brought?” came a dissatisfied greeting from behind the door after a dozen of seconds.
Oleg stiffly smiled, straightened up to attention, took a deep breath – and…
“Hello, my name is Oleg Alexandrov! Our company is holding a new year’s sale and right here and right now we have a unique offer – one that you surely will not be able to refuse!”