The Russian

After five freakin' years, my boss finally got around to fixing the bay door at the warehouse. The man who came to repair it was a charming Russian with a contagious carefree attitude. I was packing boxes and jammin' out to Marc Anthony's Contra la Corriente but overheard him asking Heart why it took five years to call someone out to fix the door. She got called away to the phone and was not able to answer him. A couple hours later as he was finishing up, he turned to Heart and said, "Now I see why it has taken five years to fix this." Heart, I could tell, immediately went on the defensive, but the Russian continued to explain himself, "The smells are good here, everyone is happy, there is good music. Everything is nice. There is no reason to worry about silly broken doors." Totally charming.