Actually, things haven't been so bad lately, when a fan is blowing on you, there's a can of ice-cold beer on your left, and the new KoYAn album is playing from the speakers. Before that, everything was a bit more dreary. Let's start with the fact that I found a job. An awesome job. If only they paid money for it... The gist: a computer repair shop is looking for a laptop repair specialist, and actually not just for repairs. All you need to do is reinstall Windows, scan hard drives, clean them, and install the necessary software. Is this a job? This is a pleasure! And he writes to me: "I have seven such-and-such laptops, they need to be polished and blah-blah-blah." Their payment system is much more interesting: first, they send me a check for the amount I requested + extra cash that I have to send via Western Union somewhere to California (or somewhere in that direction). Like, this is money for shipping the laptops to me and back. Several questions arise immediately: 1. Why the hell are they sending money before I've done the work? 2. Do I need to do the work if the money has already arrived? Well, God knows, you can encounter anything in America. Maybe if I cash the money and don't do the work, they'll dig me out from under the ground (and the Yanks can do that), I'm cashing the money at a bank, and the bank has all my coordinates. Okay. A month has passed since they sent me the check. Honestly, I've already given up. Meanwhile, my favorite Bank of America (may JPMorgan Chase curse it), sent me normal cards twice or three times, without which I can't apply for an ID. The whole satire is that both of them had my old address on Manhattan Beach, while I was already living in Staten Island. Although Captain Ravshan would have let me know if any mail had arrived for me. In the end, I couldn't take it anymore and called the old landlord. But he doesn't know anything, he's hanging out in another state with his wife and daughter, and of course, there's no one to check the mail. Damn the day he finally arrived and left all my mail with the guys. First of all, I had to rush to Brooklyn at 9 am. Two hours later, when I arrived, it started to rain. I know Ravshan has been at work for a long time, I call Dan. I call, call, call again, profit. And it's raining. He only woke up when I started knocking mercilessly on the window. He himself barely understood what was happening because he had come home at 7 am from a killer party in Manhattan. I thought I would go in, take the package with my mail, and go about my business. I spent an hour and a half searching the whole house. Can't reach Ravshan, Dan doesn't understand anything. Further, when I finally reached Ravshan (who, by the way, was also sleeping at work), he said there should be a black package hanging on the door, of course, there were no packages on any doors. I wake up Dan, he doesn't know anything about any packages. Out of desperation, I woke up Aziz and asked him. He says he saw something like that, but yesterday the guys were taking out the trash and could have thrown my package away too. AND IT'S TRUE! I ran outside and look: next to the trash can, in the rain, lies my package. And just as I brought it home, I hear the garbage trucks arrived. What did I get? I got a check from these repairmen. Even though I requested $500 for the work, the check was written for $1500. A couple of days before that, I read on the internet about these scammers – they need a person to cash fake checks and send the remainder of the requested amount to the scammers themselves. The laptops don't exist. Two bank cards arrived, and damn it, my name is spelled incorrectly on both! 3 packs of coffee arrived, which I was promised to be sent a month and a half ago for participating in an online survey. Okay. Went to the bank, asked about the check, it's indeed fake. Didn't bother asking about the cards, it's useless anyway. Went to the DMV, thought maybe it would work, it didn't, my name must be the same
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