The manager told me, “I’m leaving you here only out of respect for your respectable father—otherwise you would have been thrown out long ago.”
I replied, “You’re flattering me, Your Excellency, if you think I’m capable of flying.” Later, I heard him order irritably, “Take this gentleman away—he gets on my nerves.”
A couple of days later, I was dismissed. That’s it—for all the time I’ve been considered an adult, to my father’s considerable disappointment, the city architect—I managed to change nine places. I worked in different institutions, but all nine positions were the same as two drops of water: you had to sit still, write something, put up with absurd or rude remarks, and wait for the next dismissal.