Monte Cristo Envoy

Once a year, the company accepted interns for several months of internships. This was a great benefit for the company for at least several reasons.

First, it generated a media frenzy about giving young, talented, and educated people a chance, opening career doors for them, and offering them hope for a better future, especially in today's unemployment era. And so on, in the same pompous pattern.

Second, the company gained a whole herd of poorly paid mercenaries who worked like three men to prove themselves and get references.

Third, the rank-and-file employees in all departments were most pleased because they finally had someone to push around.

As you can see, the initiative was highly valuable, and everyone was happy.

This year's recruitment was particularly significant for the CEO. One of the interns was the son of a well-known parliamentarian, who was said to be capable of many things and know almost everyone.

So the president summoned Mr. Sawicki, and together they established a plan of action regarding Junior. Junior was of considerable weight, so it seemed obvious that he would have difficulty sitting with his colleagues in tiny cubicles separated only by partitions. He deserved his own office. And of course, such an office must have at least a desk and something to put on it. Not to mention top-notch audio and video equipment. Plus, a secretary standing by the door to ensure the talented young man didn't overexert himself making tea, coffee, and drinks. And to top it all off, a salary on par with a vice president's salary.

It paid off. The very next day, a well-known parliamentarian called the president to inform him that Junior was delighted with his working conditions, and that he himself, as a representative of the nation, was delighted with the president and congratulated himself on being his fellow countryman.

The president, meanwhile, congratulated himself in a spirit of situational awareness and business prudence. Good days followed: Junior arrived at work, drank coffee, cracked open his first beer, and browsed through the array of glossy magazines, films, and games that needed occupancy. When office duties began to tire him, he'd hail a taxi, collect his allowance, and head out into the field as the company's special delegate. He was clearly operating very efficiently, as the company won tenders one after another, ruthlessly knocking out the competition.

The president, in turn, greeted Junior effusively and bid him a fond farewell, cordially shaking his fat, sweaty right hand. Four months passed in this way.

One evening, the president was returning to his villa with the gait of a tired long-distance runner. He had just finished a strenuous and boozy round of golf; he was longing for bed and reveling in the prospect of an empty cottage – the president had deigned to go to an auction of some junk and announced a late return. The president released his four Dobermans from their kennel, staggered up the steps to the porch, and, having disabled the complex electronic security measures, went inside. Without even taking off his shoes, he sprawled comfortably in front of the giant plasma TV and began watching the evening news. The first thing he saw was the face of a well-known parliamentarian. At first glance, there was nothing unusual about this – the parliamentarian often spoke in public, lecturing a dull society in a mentoring tone about what was appropriate and what was not. What was strange, however, was that this time the MP was covering his face—and the more he covered it, the more visible his handcuffed wrists were. The president sobered instantly, listening intently to the speaker's voice. What he was saying sounded like a verdict:

"...billions in fraud...unpaid loans...suspicious and shady business transactions...tax fraud...money laundering...forgeries and embezzlement...prosecutor's office, the Supreme Audit Office, tax offices...detailed audits and investigations..." "

The double-headed fool," the president muttered to himself, wiping sweat from his brow, "got caught!"

And immediately, the specter of impending danger flashed before his eyes. Without a second thought, he grabbed the phone and roused Mr. Sawicki from his sleep.

*

Junior wasn't particularly quick-witted, but he had a feeling that changes were bound to happen. He had no idea they would be so swift and radical. That day, the doorman didn't open the door for him or even say "good morning"! He merely muttered something indistinct from beneath his gilded cap. Junior spent a long time sweating down the corridor, searching in vain for his secretary. She had vanished like a stone. It also turned out that, due to some inexplicable malice of the key or lock, he couldn't possibly get into his office. What could he do? He shrugged, scratched his impressive head, and headed for the president. And the president was incredibly busy. After two hours, he informed Junior through a messenger that, unfortunately (and it pains me terribly!), he wouldn't be able to see him. He promised, however, to call in the appropriate specialists, who would thoroughly examine the faulty key and the insubordinate lock. For now, he gave him the rest of the day off and wished him all the best. Junior accepted the wish and left.

The next day, the same thing happened again.

Mindful of his previous experiences, the junior didn't show up at all on the third day. Less than a week later, he found a letter from the company in his mailbox informing him that, unfortunately, he had failed the internship, had not met expectations, and, naturally, he couldn't count on a positive reference. They also expressed regret that the intern's father, an otherwise well-known and respected figure, would be surprised by this unpleasant news. The letter was dated August 1st, although, as the junior astutely noted, it was just the end of November.

Having

secured his cover and erased almost everything connected to the junior from his files, the president awaited developments with great anxiety. He expected massive inspections, awkward questions, sad men snooping around the company's nooks and crannies, and auditors turning binders upside down. But day after day passed, and nothing happened. The president slowly relaxed and was glad the matter was winding down. A month passed.

The president sat comfortably in a leather armchair, smoking a cigar, and reviewing transcripts of conversations that careless employees had had in the smoking room, in the restrooms, and near the coffee machine; the Situation Analysis department delivered them regularly every week. Suddenly, from the secretary's office, the sounds of a scuffle and a raised voice could be heard. The office door burst open, and Mrs. Dzidzia stood on the threshold—her breasts heaving with agitation, her shirt unbuttoned, like Rejtan's.

"I'm so... so sorry, Mr. Chairman, but there's some intruder here who insists on seeing you. He didn't have an appointment, yet he's making a fuss and making demands!" "

I'm only asking, not demanding, ma'am," the well-known parliamentarian slipped into the office, following the secretary. "And I'm sure the president is ready to give me a moment of his precious time."

The president was stunned for a long moment. Finally, however, he pulled himself together and, forcing a smile, said:

"All right, Mrs. Dzidzia. I'll see you."

Mrs. Dzidzia retreated to her realm, glaring at the newcomer.

"It's nice to see you, sir, in such a thriving state," the president said with a trembling hand, pouring whiskey into the glasses.

"I'm also very happy to be thriving," the parliamentarian smiled politely. "How's business?"

"It varies," the chairman laughed insincerely. "You know how it is, Mr. MP. You gain something here, you lose something there—your very life. But we still manage to make ends meet. And you...?

" "And me?" the parliamentarian settled comfortably in the chairman's chair. "I don't know if you heard, but I was cruelly slandered and they tried to blame me for the sins of others..." "I

've heard something," the chairman muttered. "I sympathize with you from the bottom of my heart."

"I was imprisoned, interrogated, and surveilled," the MP examined his fingernails, "but in the end, justice triumphed. The evidence proved insufficient, the circumstantial evidence questionable, and the witnesses suddenly began to recall the true version of events. My immunity was restored, I was apologized to, and I am once again serving society to the best of my ability."

"This is a great blessing for society!" the president tried to sound as enthusiastic as possible. "

Certainly," the MP looked at him from under his lashes. "And I am all the more pleased that there are still people who were able to appreciate my innate honesty and integrity, and support me and my loved ones in difficult times. I came to thank you, Mr. President.

" "Yes?" the president swallowed hard.

"And to ask." Did the junior cause you any problems? Well, if he really bothered the guy's ears, you can be sure!

"Oh, no, Mr. MP! Quite the opposite!" "Glad

to hear it, really. So the decision to deprive him of his internship and employment prospects at your thriving company must have had some other basis?"

"And... it would have been another basis," the president seemed terribly lost. "Matters of a formal, tax, legal nature, and finally, a sudden and completely unjustified drop in turnover. The cuts were unfortunately necessary and also affected full-time employees." "

I understand," the MP nodded, "but is it better now?

" "We're still in a bit of a slump," the president blushed to the top of his head. "

Sorry to hear! I'll keep my fingers crossed for you then!" Our beloved country needs such thriving enterprises and people who, like you, stand firm and steadfast as guardians of Polish capital!

"Uh-huh..." the president grunted. "

In that case, I wish you luck," the parliamentarian rose from his chair. "I won't rob you of your precious time... Oh! I almost forgot!"

The guest reached into his large coat pocket and pulled out three envelopes with official stamps. "

I was at the prosecutor's office today to take care of the formalities related to the dismissal of my investigation. I mentioned in passing that I was going to see you, and the prosecutor insisted on my role as a messenger. You know, they sell very thinly there and even skimp on postage stamps!"

The MP laughed broadly.

The president stood stone-faced, staring at the envelopes.

"One is from the tax office..."

"What are you talking about?!" – the parliamentarian showed keen interest. – So how on earth did it get tangled in my pocket? But I hope it ended up at the right address?

– It did – the president confirmed deadpan.

– I'm glad I could help! – the parliamentarian patted the president on the shoulder in a friendly manner and headed for the door.

But before he pressed the handle, he smiled broadly again and said with a cheerful twinkle in his eye:

"I hope it's nothing serious!"