I’m going to work when, right on the street, some crazy woman with a small child flies up to me. Disheveled auntie insists she’s the grandmother… of my daughter! The one I didn’t know about until this moment. You see, her daughter has gone off to “have some fun” in another city and isn’t in a hurry to come back. And she isn’t planning to raise this creature of hell alone. With these words, she thrusts a dirty little child into my arms and—no exaggeration—sprints away at a brisk sprint.
I’m left holding this creature of hell. I have no idea what to do with her, because I’m holding a baby for the first time.
Next comes a call to the police—complete chaos.
Good thing my secretary is hands-on. She offers help while I search for the mother of a one-and-a-half-year-old girl.
A couple of days later, I realize: my secretary is pure gold. How did I manage without her at home before?
I give instructions:
— Take the child for walks, buy her clothes and food, find a nanny, pick up my things from the dry cleaner’s, monitor the cleaning service, and so on.
The list is long, and I don’t have the time to deal with all this. I’m supposed to be working—something’s on fire with my contract.
And then my secretary tells me, in an annoyed voice:
— Robert Arturovich, these kinds of duties aren’t written into my contract. I’m not your wife to be doing all this.
I decide to fix this annoying omission in her biography.
???
Single volume.