Past imperfect
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"What do you all have here? Why are you huddled together like kittens around a bowl of milk?"
The girls jumped in surprise and turned around. They really looked like naughty preschool kids. The boss, stood in the doorway. She was a stern, gray-haired skinny lady, dressed in her usual elegant outfit. Marat loomed behind her.
Without waiting for a response, Irina Konstantinovna marched into the room. Having adjusted her glasses on her nose she looked at the centre of the spontaneously formed circle where the ill-fated case lay. She didn't share her employees' reverence for jewellery gifts so she snapped the lid, then she blinked and chuckled after a barely noticeable astonished pause.
"And who is the lucky one?" the boss said after having managed to control herself.
All eyes instantly turned to Lera, unwittingly giving her away. Lera's cheeks flushed treacherously. Like many redheads and pale-skinned people, she blushed incredibly easily.
"A rich admirer?" the boss asked a little more dryly. "Remember, Larina, if you go on maternity leave…"
"Irina Konstantinovna, I don't know who this gift is from," Lera said hastily, with fervour.
For some reason, Lera was very embarrassed because Irina Konstantinovna thought she was openly being given expensive gifts. The woman's eyebrows rose in disbelief, and then she took a closer look at the girl's concerned face, she chuckled again and drawled.
"Really? Well, well… Then, come on in, you're the first to enter my office. We can talk about it along the way."
The boss occupied the largest office space in the company – the meeting room. She hosted particularly demanding clients here to discuss business, having seated them exactly facing a wall densely covered with certificates and photos.
And in honesty, she had a lot to be proud of. Only Lera had brought Irina Konstantinovna seven copies of her language certificates and diplomas. Other girls, too, were also not limited to one language or one educational institution.
Along with the diplomas, Irina Konstantinovna also hung particularly successful photos of events where her "kids" had the honour to participate. Exactly like a grandmother, proud of the success of her grandchildren. Any accusations of sentimentality were dismissed by Irina Konstantinovna as nothing but dirty insinuations. Of course.
There were three Leras there. One in a formal suit – from some Terribly Important Business Negotiations, one in an evening gown – from the premiere of a film in Venice, and one in a fancy outfit – from a fashion show in Milan.
Lera was uncomfortable with this "showcase" where she and her colleagues were displayed as simple products. Many girls disapproved of this Glory Wall, but there was nothing they could do about it. Irina Konstantinovna was deaf and blind to requests to remove the photos and leave only the diplomas.
Their boss was completely devoid of mercy when it came to ways of increasing profit. By the way, Irina Konstantinovna unfailingly conducted the personnel selection process personally, and did it with such care and attention as if she were choosing not just translators but, at the very least, secret agents.
Staff seriously suspected that her preferences were not only based on the academic achievements and merits of candidates, but more than that on their external qualities and charisma. Even their sole male interpreter, turkophone-Marat, was a notably handsome guy. This is without even mentioning the attractiveness of the girls.
Naturally, the boss denied having such a biased attitude towards applicants, pointing out that not all employees looked like they were from the podium. Technically, it was true. Not all the girls were long-legged makaroni-models with a hungry look, but Irina Konstantinovna was still lying.
Lera, with her bright red curls turquoise eyes, struck customers on the spot. Alissa was so petite and feminine that everyone fussed over her like a delicate crystal vase. Sveta simply charmed everyone with her warm tenderness, and clients usually looked at her, rather than the contracts.
Inessa, full-blooded, was so all roundly beautiful that men hardly looked above her cleavage, but since she specialized in Arabic, clients – due to their national preferences – permanently salivated over her exceeded "thirty-three inches" and strictly kept "twenty-four".
As soon as Inessa lowered her thick silver braids that played around her coccyx when she walked, they signed documents without looking, confusing Arabic script for Cyrillic when writing their own names. In general, Inessa's non-standard appearance was absolutely appropriate, Irina Konstantinovna had her advantages here too.
Lera waved off annoying thoughts about Inessa's admirers out of her head and plopped down in her usual spot opposite the boss. Irina Konstantinovna quickly rifled through a stack of employment contracts and handed Lera a pile of papers. The girl quickly scanned them and signed both copies. There wasn't much to review.
“Well, now tell me more about your secret Santa”, Irina Konstantinovna said sternly, placing the contracts in a separate folder.
“Well… I don't even know where to begin…” Lera hesitated.
“At the beginning!”
Lera jumped slightly at her sharp voice, but when she looked into the woman's eyes, she saw genuine concern and worry in them. Overall, despite all her flaws, Irina Konstiantinovna took care of her employees like a mother hen.
“I often receive small gifts from someone at work. It came today”, Lera blurted out.
“And you have no idea who it is from?” The boss asked in disbelief.
Lera vigorously shook her head, making her red hair even more messy.
“What about a signature?” the boss pressed.
“Firstly, I thought it was one of my coworkers, but no one admitted to it. The packages were always delivered by a courier, according to the girls…”
“A courier? According the girls?” Irina Konstantinova's eyes narrowed. “So, do you mean the presents have never been delivered to you personally?”