The director silently rustled the papers, as if looking for something. Sergei looked at him blankly, narrowing his eyes a little, and thought only that this meaningless conversation would end as soon as possible. A strange tradition of interviews upon dismissal was invented by HRs, who, in the framework of the now fashionable benchmarking, saw such a technique in some particularly effective, in their opinion, company. The payment had already been received, a few things - a mug, an expander and a rosary - had long been lying in the car. All that was left was to talk to the director. What is he looking for there?
Finally, the director's face lit up with a slight smile. Apparently, he found what he was looking for - the name of the person with whom he was going to talk.
So, Sergei. - Folding his hands on the table, the director turned to the programmer. “I won't take up much of your time. Actually, in your case, everything is clear.
Sergey nodded in the affirmative. He did not understand what exactly was clear in his case, and what was not clear, but he did not want to delve into the discussion, pick up old grievances and smear snot.
- I will ask a standard question - what, in your opinion, can be improved in our company?
- Nothing. Sergei shrugged. Everything is great in your company. Good luck to you, happy stay, and so on.
- Like in the song?
- Like in the song. Sergey smiled, surprised by the director's knowledge of modern music.
- OK then. The director shrugged his shoulders. - The reasons for the dismissal, it seems, nothing special is seen. I confess that I am not particularly aware of your work - the IT director, Innokenty, worked with me directly. I know his work well, but, in fact, I heard about you only the other day. When Kesha offered to fire you.
Sergei involuntarily smiled. An image immediately appeared in my head - Kesha, with a sad face, as he knows how, sighing heavily, as if tearing off a piece of his heart, offers to fire the programmer. The only programmer in the enterprise.
It's strange that you stayed with us for so long.
The director's face was serious, and, given the circumstances, it seemed somehow unrealistically cruel, like in a movie about a maniac or a murderer. Sergei recalled a scene from the film "Azazel", where some old special-purpose man is going to kill Fandorin. "It was a red face, but the gruel will be red." Calmly, without emotion, they say straight to your face that Sergey, the programmer, is complete shit.
- You almost did not participate in automation projects. the director continued.
- Yes. Sergei nodded.
- All programming tasks were performed by Kesha, despite his busyness with administrative work.
- Yes.
“It was he who also suggested the ideas that helped our company move forward.
- Yes.
- In crisis situations, when the company was literally on the verge of death, Kesha was at the forefront.
- Yes. Sergey nodded, but could not restrain himself, and smiled broadly.
- What? the director frowned.
- Yes, so ... I remembered one case ... Please, continue, this is not related to the topic.
- I'm sure it is. the director said seriously. - Well, if we take purely professional achievements, then the quality ... So, where is it ... Ah, here it is! You are writing shitty code!
“Uh-huh… What?!
Sergei's face twisted into an evil grimace. He leaned forward, staring at the director so that, just in case, he slowly straightened up and leaned against the back of the chair.
— Shitcode? Sergey asked loudly. - Did your Kesha say that?
- Well, actually ... It doesn't matter. the director tried to get the conversation back on track. - As we already ...
- It doesn't matter what the fuck! Sergey continued to push. - Your fucking enterprise with its moronic projects, crises and licking of the director's ass is, let's say, on the drum. But I won't allow you to claim that I'm writing shitty code! Especially - to freaks who have not written a single line of this very code in their lives!
“Listen…” the director stood up from his chair. - Go away!
- And I'll go! - Sergey also got up and moved to the exit, continuing to swear aloud. - Well, your mother, but ... Govnokod! Me and the bastard! How did he manage to put these two words into a sentence! How did he even manage to make an offer? I was still covering this asshole when he almost leaked the office!
- Stop! - there was a cry from the director, when Sergey was already at the door.
In surprise, the programmer stopped. He turned around - the director slowly walked towards him, peering intensely into Sergei's face. Damn... He could have left and forgotten about this big top forever.
- Sergey, give me a minute more. – the director spoke firmly, but immediately softened. - Please…
Sergei sighed heavily, trying not to look at the director. I was a little ashamed of my vzbryk, and I wanted to leave as soon as possible. However, having decided that it was easier and faster to stay than to argue and try to escape, Sergei returned to the office.
- Can you explain your phrase ... - the director began, when the interlocutors returned to their places.
- Which one? - Sergey perfectly understood what the director wanted to hear about, but suddenly, by some miracle, it was the shit code that interested him.
— You said something about… How did you put it…
- Kesha almost leaked your office, and I covered his ass.
- That's it ... Tell me more?
- OK. - Sergey shrugged his shoulders, sensibly judging that the director has the right to know, and there is no longer any need to keep the secret. Do you remember the check?
- What test?
- When unpleasant men in masks, camouflage and with machine guns at the ready burst into our office, rummaged through papers, dragged away the server, took away all the flash drives and put us in cancer?
- Certainly. the director smiled. - It's hard to forget.
- Well, you know the result - they did not find anything. Everything they… Well, they could find… Was on the server they took. However, they could not receive a single byte of data from the server, and returned it to its place.
Yes, I know this story very well. A haughty shadow crossed the director's face. - Including, through their own channels, directly from ... It doesn’t matter, in general. What did you want to say? About Kesha, I understand?
— Yes, about Kesha. Sergey nodded and suddenly smiled. - You said just now that he played some role there, pulled us out of the crisis ... Is this connected with the check?
Yes, those are the events I was talking about.
- Can you tell me what Kesha told you? I'm really interested.
- Sergey, I'm sorry, we're not playing children's games here. - the director began to drill the programmer with a trained look. Your version, my version...
- Well, I went then? Sergey slowly got up from his chair and took a couple of steps towards the door.
“Your mother…” the director cursed. - Well, what a clowning, huh?
— Clowning?! Sergei flared up again. - No, sorry, which of us is fired on trumped-up charges? Yes, if far-fetched - sucked, and it would be okay from a finger! It doesn't matter to you - one more, one less, but what should I do now, huh? Where can I find work in our village? Clownery…
- All right, Sergey. The director raised his hands in conciliation. “I beg your pardon. Sit down please. I will tell my version, as you wish.
Sergei, still blazing with indignation, returned to his chair and, clacking his tongue, stared at the table.
- Innokenty told me so. the director continued. - When he saw that they came to us with a check, then, first of all, he rushed to the server room. From what I understand, he needed to activate the data protection system he installed earlier when... Well, we learned that there was a possibility of verification. He activated the system...
Sergei clicked his tongue again and somehow hopelessly smiled.
- When he activated the system, then, as I understand it, it was necessary to hide the security key that was on the flash drive. Otherwise, if he got to the men in masks, there would be no point in the protection system - they would have access to the data. Thinking on the go, Innokenty realized that the best place for a flash drive - I beg your pardon, the toilet. And rushed there. Apparently, he overdid it, attracted attention to himself, but managed to run to the booth, and even close the door behind him. I destroyed the flash drive, but the persecutors, realizing that Kesha was hiding something, broke down our toilet, dragged the IT director by the scruff of the neck, inflicting minor bodily injuries along the way - which, by the way, was recorded in the emergency room, Kesha's fingers were peeled off in blood. However, no matter how hard these Herods tried, they could not get anything more from our hero.
“Now, the true story of Little Red Riding Hood.” Sergey waited a long time for his turn to speak. Let's start in order.
Sergey withstood a short pause, pumping up the potential of interest in his person.
- Firstly, it was not Kesha who installed the protection, but me. It seems not very important, but, in fact, determines all further events. To be honest, I tried to explain to him how it works, but he did not understand. That's why I... Mmmm... Considered Kesha's stupidity.
- How exactly?
- Do not interrupt, please, I will tell you everything, otherwise I will stumble. Sergei continued. - Secondly, Kesha did not run into any server room. You can check by cameras, by ACS, whatever you like. I'm not sure that Kesha even knows where the server room is and how it differs from the boiler room.
- That is, how was it not in the server room? The director was genuinely surprised. - No, well, at least ... Okay, let's say. What about the toilet story?
Oh, that's almost the complete truth. Sergei smiled. - And he ran quickly, and the door was broken down, and minor injuries. Only now ... He ran so fast that he locked himself in the toilet even before the masks reached the entrance to the office building. You can ask Gena - at that time he was in the toilet, washing his hands, but still did not know anything about the test. If you remember, then the panic button worked for us - the watchmen managed to press it. But Gena thought that we were just testing the notification system.
The director silently nodded, continuing to stare at Sergei and listen carefully.
- I sat in the toilet of Cash almost the entire time of the check. - continued the programmer, already clearly enjoying both the story and himself. - Until these gentlemen with machine guns wanted to call the hedgehogs.
- What?
- Well, to the toilet, in a small way. Although, I don’t know, maybe send a parcel ... It doesn’t matter. In short, they came to the toilet, pulled all the doors - apparently out of habit. Here bang - one does not open. Something was suspected. And Kesha, not from a great mind, when he closed, broke the handle - on purpose, like not a working booth. So he, in fact, received his bodily injuries of a mild degree, that is, skinned fingers. The guys, without hesitation, carried out the door - it's flimsy, but their foreheads are strong. Well, they dragged out Kesha.
The director didn't look so carefully anymore. His gaze shifted from Sergei to his own table.
So, this is where things get interesting. Kesha had a flash drive, and he immediately gave it away. He introduced himself as an IT director, all that, ready to cooperate, here is the server protection key, please fix it in the protocol. They almost kissed him with joy, led him by the arms to the server room, where Kesha was solemnly at a loss - he was asked to show which server the protection was from. Without thinking twice, he poked at the heftiest one. The guys neighed - even they knew that this was not a server, but an uninterruptible power supply that occupies half the rack. Somehow, with grief in half, they found something to seize from us, and went home.
“Wait a minute…” the director suddenly turned a little paler. - It turns out ... After all, they said that they did not find anything ... But in fact - what, did they find it? So we have to wait...
- You don't have to wait. Sergei smiled. - As I said, Kesha is stupid. When I put protection, I took this into account. I gave him a flash drive with some kind of left key - I don’t remember which software it was from ... In short, just a text file with abracadabra. And, just in case, he also damaged the flash drive, physically. I don’t know for sure, but I’ll assume that when they couldn’t turn on the server, they thought it was a broken flash drive. Perhaps they have pride, so they decided to pretend that they did not find anything. They just couldn't turn on the server.
— Are you sure about that, Sergey? – with hope in voice asked director.
- Certainly. - As seriously as he could, the programmer answered. - Everything is simple there. To turn on the server, you need a flash drive. Normal, which I have in the country is. If you turn it on without a flash drive, then, of course, it will physically start, but the system will not start, and it is impossible to get data from the disks, they are encrypted. Turned off the server - that's it, you can't turn it on without a flash drive.
“That is, if we turn off the electricity ...
- Then everything will be fine. Sergei smiled. - I bought a bespereboynik ... That is, you bought it - very good. Just enough to drive to my dacha and back. Well, if the server already falls - anything can happen - then, well ... No flash drive will help here, it takes the same time to raise it.
- And if they, for example, did not take the server? the director asked. - Did you just copy the data from it without turning it off?
- There is such a possibility. Sergei nodded. - But we, if you remember, preparing for the test, monitored the practice for a long time. They do not like to mess around on the spot, they prefer to take it with them. In the end, they have much fewer programmers and admins than these iron-borns who kick the door with their foreheads, not always their own. You can't take it with you to every trip. Yes, and programmers love to work in their cave, they are afraid of daylight, like worms. Well, in the end, you would have to copy terabytes, but over some kind of USB, they will be left without lunch. In short, considering all the risks, we decided to do what we did. Well, they did not fail.
“One more time, Sergey…” the director became thoughtful. - I don’t understand, why did you give the flash drive to Innokenty?
“I knew he would give it back. Well, such a person.
- Are you not like that?
“I don't know, to be honest. Sergei shrugged. - I'm not a hero, but ... Okay, I won't fantasize. I knew that Kesha would give back, so I used it.
- Did you use it?
- Well. These guys wouldn't leave without being sure they took something of value. And what could be more valuable than a secret flash drive received from an IT director who is hiding in the closet?
- Well, actually, perhaps ... Oh, hell, I don’t know ... Tell me, please, Sergey - they definitely didn’t copy the data?
- Exactly. You can call any hackers, turn off the server, and ask them to download at least something. Well, to be sure.
“No, you don’t have to…” the director shook his head uncertainly. “I try to trust people. Maybe I'm not always right about this.
- That's for sure. Sergei chuckled.
- In terms of?
“Ah… No, everything is fine. I meant Cash.
— Yes, Kesha… What to do now… On the other hand, we are all people. In general, he did nothing criminal. But you should probably talk to him. Heart-to-heart.
So, am I still needed? - Sergei began to slowly rise from his chair, carefully following the confused monologue of the director.
— Oh, no, Sergey, thank you. the director said. - I ... I don’t even know ... Maybe you and I ... Well, I don’t know ...
- What? Sergey paused, never fully straightening up.
— Ah… Yes. - The director finally got together. - Sergey, we need to talk again. I think that with your dismissal there could be an oversight. Do you already have job offers? I understood so...
- No. - Sergei landed again.
- Fine. Let's discuss everything again tomorrow morning. And today I need to talk to Innokenty. So, he is ... Yes, he should be at my house, there is something with Wi-Fi, my wife asked ...
- Wifi is fine there. Sergei answered.
- In terms of? Are you aware, right? the director was taken aback.
- Well, yes. I went in the morning and did everything. You didn't think it was Kesha doing it, did you?
“Wait… What exactly is he doing?”
- Well, everything. A grid around the house, GSM amplifiers, Wi-Fi repeaters, cameras, a server in the garage ... I did all this. Kesha only drove me in his master's wheelbarrow, otherwise, apparently, they could not let me into your elite village.
- No, they would let me in, they issue a pass there. The director didn't notice the irony. - Damn it ... So Kesha, as it turned out ...
- Well, as it turned out.
- Okay, come, let's talk. It is not clear, however, what he is doing there so far ... Is he drawing, or what? Activity mimics? And what happened to Wi-Fi today, Sergey?
Your wife asked you to change your password. She says she read somewhere that passwords should be changed periodically. I don't care - I came, I did it.
- Yes, passwords - yes ... - the director again fell into some kind of mental prostration. “Wait, can you give me the password?” And then my wife and I ... Well ... We had a little quarrel yesterday. Well, you know how it happens ... It may well not tell the password, but I'm without Wi-Fi, as if without hands ...
- No problem. - Sergey took out a smartphone, rummaged around, found the password, took a sheet of paper from the table and carefully copied a long, meaningless phrase on it:
ZCtujlyz,elenhf
- How long. Proud of his wife, the director nodded. - Is it a complicated password? You mean reliable?
- Yes, there are different registers, and special characters, and a decent length. Sergei confirmed. - A serious claim to safety.
- As soon as you remember it. - the director turned a piece of paper with a password in his hands.
- Yes, drive it in once, it will be remembered in the device. In general, usually such passwords mean something. This is some kind of phrase, in Russian, which was typed in the English layout. I was too lazy to translate, so I don’t know ...
- Well, I'll ask her when she's gone a little ... Maybe tomorrow ... Thank you, Sergey!
- I am glad to help.
- All right, see you tomorrow!
- Okay, I'll be there in the morning.
Sergei left the office with mixed feelings. Since yesterday, having learned about the dismissal, he managed to go through all the stages of grief. There was denial for a couple of minutes, the anger lasted almost until night, forcing him to rinse the body with a shock dose of alcohol, bargaining was limited to an attempt to write an angry letter to Kesha, but his wife stopped him, and in the morning, along with a hangover, depression rolled over. However, having reached work, and then, once again, having rolled up to the director's cottage, and having completed the work under the sauce "tyzhprogrammer", Sergey accepted everything.
Now the story took an unexpected turn. Not dizzying, but unexpected. The director won't fire Kesha for the background check story, that's for sure. But the work of Sergei, probably, will look more carefully. Although ... So, if you think about it, then ... Bang!
Sergei did not even understand how he ended up on the floor. Something, or someone, rushed down the corridor so fast that he knocked down the unfortunate programmer like a hanger. Raising his head, Sergei saw the vague silhouette of the fleeing director.
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