In Kind

IN KIND


“Three rubles, damn,” he muttered.

Ivan Grigori Yovanivich sighed and peered into the paper bag he carried. There were fifteen out of twenty-five. He’d just sold ten of them for three rubles.

He looked at the steel gray Moscow sky. It was October, and snow was in the air. He buttoned his coat against the chill and set out to find a buyer for the last fifteen.

Laughter caused him to stop. He looked around and realized he was in front of a bar owned by an old friend, Yuri Vasily Bogdanich. He decided to have a drink and get in out of the cold.

“Ivan Grigori,” cried the portly red faced bartender. “How goes it with you?”

“Greeting, Yuri Vasily, I am well, thank you.”

“You’re too skinny, Ivan. You should be more like me.” Yuri patted his ample midsection. “What can I get for you?”

“Vodka.” Ivan removed his coat.

Yuri poured the vodka and went to wait on the other two patrons. Ivan sipped his vodka and waited for his friend to return.

“So, Ivan,” Yuri said as he walked back to his friend, “do you still make parts to help ships navigate?”

Ivan winced at the question. “Not exactly, Yuri.”

“You are not working?” there was concern in Yuri’s voice.

“No, old friend, I am working, but there have been changes.”

“Excuse me, Ivan,“ Yuri said as he went to exchange farewells with the two departing patrons. At that moment Ivan placed the paper bag on the bar.

Yuri walked back to Ivan. “What’s in the bag tovarich?”

“A long story my friend,” Ivan replied. “Where I work we no longer make navigational equipment for ships. We have no customers to buy them because no one can afford to buy ships. We must diversify in order to survive, or so the bosses claim. Now we make a new product for the masses. Another vodka please, Yuri.”

“This new product, it does well?” Yuri filled the glass.

“At first, but now it is difficult to sell them. Our wages started being late, and then they stopped. No money we were told. Then the bosses said we could be paid in kind. We can take the items we make, instead of wages, and sell them for whatever we could.”

“That is better than nothing. At least you can make something when you sell them.”

Ivan laughed and held up his glass. “Old friend, if you allow me one more drink I shall have to pay you in kind. I have used all my money.”

“Certainly, but tell me, what is it that you make?”

“It is called ‘Adam’.” Ivan smiled and pushed the bag to Yuri. “Have a look.”

Yuri opened the bag and peered inside and his eyebrows arched in surprise. “How many ‘Adams’ are in here?”

“Fifteen, how many do you want for a glass of vodka?”

Yuri saw a grin on his friend’s face and he grinned back. “I have been paid in eggs, cabbages, and empty bottles. I’ve even been offered a coffin, and one man paid in brassieres. That made my wife happy. But yours, Ivan Grigori, is the best yet." He pulled one of the items from the bag and placed it on the bar.

“People prefer battery operated ones instead of the manual kind. That’s why it is so difficult to sell them. So, how many do you want for a vodka?”

“Ivan, because this is different, and you are an old friend, I will take one ‘Adam’ for one vodka. They will certainly be decorative for the bar,” Yuri said as he lifted another rubber dildo from Ivan’s bag and looked at it. “Who knows, I may even take one home for my wife.”