Car Dealership

 I work in an ordinary Moscow car dealership, of which there are more than two hundred in the capital. There is nothing particularly remarkable about it, the salon is like a two—story glasshouse with lighting and signage. However, it is not located somewhere in the center, but somehow on the outskirts, on the outskirts of the city. On one side is an oil products factory, on the other is a prison, and there is only one road passing by. The salon has been open for six months, and there are always a lot of people during the day — the staff is bustling, customers are pacing. After 8 p.m., the salon empties abruptly, although sometimes it happens that customers stay until midnight when they take a long time to process the documents for the car, but this rarely happens.

I was really late a couple of weeks ago. While I was doing my quarterly report, I didn't notice how night had fallen. I looked at my watch, and it was after midnight. It's not surprising that the guards didn't notice me: our office is on the second floor in the farthest corner, with a magnetic key. The guards don't even approach him when they go around, and we never turn off the light in the office. So, I saw the time and got ready to go home, deciding that I still had to go to the bathroom before going out, because it would take at least an hour to get home... I went downstairs, did all my chores, and came out of the bathroom, and then the next door opened and a man came out. I glanced at it briefly, but I thought to myself that, apparently, the design was too late. And he happily declares to me like this: "Oh, and I thought no one would notice me and let me out of here! Girl, won't you walk me out?" I forced a smile, said something like, "Well, yes, of course," and walked away, all in my own thoughts, the guy was wandering next to me.

We walked through the entire salon, approached the guard, and I said to him, "Well, will you open the door for us?" He jumped up, opened the door, the guy muttered to me, "Thank you!" and got out in front of me. The guard, a young boy, looks at me, smiles and asks: "Are you going to your place too?" I did not pay attention to this remark. I went out over the fence, stood at the bus stop, looked in one direction — not a soul, in the other — not a soul... I was surprised, I think, why did this guy leave so quickly? About ten minutes later, she caught a taxi and left.

There would be nothing surprising in this story if there wasn't a single "but".

I got into a tangle with that security guard guy a couple of days later, and he blurted out something like, "You've got a lot of ego, take it out on yourself!" I didn't understand, I asked him to explain, and he said to me, "Well, when you were late from work, you asked me to open the door for you (that is, "us")." I explain that, they say, to me and to the man-client, and he just twirled his finger at his temple.…

A couple of days later, it turned out that someone had scratched the car in the hall that day. The head of security and I sat down to watch the video from all the cameras, who left when, who went where… How horrified I was when I saw myself walking out of the salon alone that night! I broke out in a cold sweat. The head of security saw it, let's ask what and how. I was impressed and told him how it was, and he replied, "Well, now I understand what the guys were telling me. Everyone says that at night someone seems to walk around the salon, slaps his feet, goes to the first post (exit from the salon), stands, stands, and goes back towards the toilets. Why do you think we had such a turnover? Everyone who was smarter quickly left, there were no living guests, and this one was constantly prowling at night. And after a week, they say, everything stopped, as if someone had released him..."