The history of one store, or why Russians do not respect each other so much

Vyacheslav Chernov, entrepreneur, social activist

He got a landowner of a bankrupt grocery store.

The first time I went into a state of shock was when I entered an already empty store.

Why? Why do Russians disrespect each other so much? Everywhere there are layers of perennial dirt, mountains of mouse shit, a pile of disgusting rubbish in the warehouse. But here until the last day they sold products.

I experienced a secondary shock when all the panels were torn off. What was hidden behind them defies description: the intricacies of pipes and wires leave the impression that all this was laid by the same dude who draws labyrinths in children's books: help the mouse get into his mink.

Plaster in black mold, mummified rodents along the walls.

The third wave of shock has to do with the story of the construction that the walls and floors tell. The blocks are stacked on top of each other with an offset of 10 cm. Horizontal seams diverge from 2 to 15 cm. They broke some blocks and laid them across, as a result of which pieces up to 30 cm stick out into the room. Floors with a difference of 20 cm. Drainage from the sink is organized simply in open ground, which is fenced off by some towns so that drains do not pour on the floor.

And much more creepy and unbearable. You can do this only with the deepest hatred for what you are doing, and insidious gloating towards future users.

And once it was the main state liquor store in the area. From there I took a small truck of those very boxes in which booze was delivered to stores during the Soviet era. Since then lay, imagine? That is, it was the place that generates the biggest profit. The house, by the way, was built for the 50th anniversary of the USSR. With love".

In the 90s, a private trader bought it and there was liquor for a long time. In turbulent times, a hole the size of a bottle was cut out in a thick iron door, and a huge corner was welded on the side of the hole so that the seller could hide behind it when he takes money and gives out a bubble, in order, as I understand it, to exclude being stabbed or hit by a shot.

In short, such a hard cyberpunk.

And, behold, for decades the premises were exploited, and not one iota within its walls occurred the evolution of respect and normal human relations.

All this will have to be corrected and turned into a place that will serve people, increase their human dignity and cultivate good tastes. What else to do?