My neighbor’s granddaughter, Helena, did very well in college and got a degree in finance, but she had some kind of a mess with her job. She seemed to get a job somewhere, then again she got registered at the employment center. And so on in a circle. I couldn’t stand it, I asked: “Helena, why are you flying around and not getting a job? Do you live more on welfare?” And Helena told me: “You don’t have to work on welfare!”
Then she left for a neighboring town, met a guy, started living with him, but she still did not want to work. When she got pregnant, they got married, so everything would be beautiful, Helena gave birth, thinking that she would be able to get the maternity capital through her husband. But her husband turned out to be registered not in the city, but in his native village, in the city his aunt gave him an apartment, while she was working abroad.
In the village all families are large, and in order to get the money the relevant authorities demanded certificates of employment of all those registered in the place of Helena husband’s registration. Of course, such certificates could not be collected. She had to make do with the minimum wage.
When Helena realized that there was a catastrophic shortage of money, not just for entertainment, but for basic food for the baby, she sounded the alarm and began to call all her close and not so close relatives, drawing them a terrible picture of hunger for a one-year-old child.
Of course, everyone rushed to help, who with money, who sent food, and Helena’s husband began to work two jobs to somehow make ends meet. As a result, he seriously undermined his health and ended up in the hospital, and Helena started “cruising” with her relatives, staying with one or the other for a few days, and so she made it for six months.
Recently she came to visit her grandmother, and for two weeks she has been feeling fine on her grandmother’s allowance. I asked her what about her husband? What does she think, because he is there, in the hospital, needs normal food, transfers, etc. To this Helena pathosily told me: “He’s a big boy, but it’s more important to feed my son!”
No one knows what such a “caring” mother can give the child, and how long she is going to live on her grandmother’s pension.
