Nina B. (SLE)

I am an observant person. You walk around the grounds and of course you notice what kinds of houses are around: a huge house—a good solid brick one; that one over there—run-down; and that one—utter junk.

Or in a village, you naturally notice: “Aha, look at the house they’ve built here—stone, beautiful, with garages, with proper access—well, a classy house. That’s a house you could live in. And all the other little houses are wooden, tiny little things…” You walk along a village street and you pick out a couple of houses “for yourself”: if you were to choose, it would only be a big one.

I’m observant. I walk down the street and immediately see everything: where each shop is, what the road surface is like, the potholes, what cars are coming toward me…

So I’m walking to the garden. I always take the same road to the garden. From a distance I notice that the road I take is all potholes, dug up! And if necessary, I instantly rearrange in my head how to get around the mud. I don’t even think about it. I arrive at the garden: “Aha, the neighbor has built a huge house. Last time there was no door, now there’s a door. Aha, this barrel—he stole my big barrel… Yesterday it was standing there, today it’s already here. Yesterday there was no pit, and today he’s already dug one.” I grasp all of this instantly.

In a shop—one department, a second, a third—I come in and look: the salespeople have been moved around. By the goods I can see that an item used to be here and now it’s been rearranged. I remember where all the goods used to stand, and I’ll remember where they’re moved the next time.

If I see a well-dressed person walking down the street, I think: “Ah, how I like that!” I like stylish things: stiletto boots… If I were younger, I’d wear them. I love everything beautiful, bright colors: red, white, black, green, crimson, turquoise. There’s this whole gray-black mass walking along, and then there’s someone beautifully, brightly dressed—you notice them immediately! It makes me happy! Beauty grabs you!

I always feel that I am strong—stronger than many—and that I can always stand up for myself.

My friend and I were walking, I was pregnant, and some drunk guy was coming toward me. I just threw him aside! I wasn’t afraid at all. I knew that I would handle him anyway.

It’s hard for me to deny my own “I want.” I want it, and that’s that.

I want a lot of things in life. I’m not allowed to eat smoked foods, but I’m dying for dry-cured sausage—I’ve always loved it. Now I’m not allowed to, but I want it. I go into the store, buy it, come home, and eat it.

Before, it was like this: I’d see something beautiful on someone, get fired up, want the same thing—want it, want it, want it, no matter what—and I’d get it. Before, the problem was where to find it. I’d go through every possible channel, but I needed that thing. I’d get it—I needed it immediately! I’d get it—satisfaction, I’d feel like a real person.

I remember putting on a gauze dress, super-high heels, walking—and I was a person, a Person with a capital P, I was beautiful!

<…> We’re walking down the street and see a little kiosk with good products. It’s inside a fenced area. I think: “We really need to get in there now and buy everything.” “They won’t let you in,” my daughter says. Everything is fenced off and there’s a guard. I set myself up: I need to get in there! I go, walk through, and he stops me and says: “Where are you going?” “To the kiosk, I need to buy something.” He says: “We only let people in with passes.” I say: “Well, let me through anyway, I have my passport.” “Alright, go ahead.”

I just wanted to! I wanted to, that’s all—and I got through! I passed it like an obstacle! And I got everything I wanted, bought everything. My daughter was surprised.

<...> I took risks constantly! Risk all the time. It’s comfortable in it. Once a year at our workplace there was an inspection—a reviewer came from the higher organization. She called everyone in groups (we worked in groups). I come in, she asks me: “Why do you have such an inflated balance?” I start explaining: this and that, this and that. I talk about suppliers—it’s deliberate nonsense, but I take the risk. I say: “This supplier delivered more than our order, I have a letter saying that if we don’t sell it, they’ll take it back.” That’s it—she puts a check mark, everything’s fine. I behave confidently, but my colleagues come in and start mumbling. And several times the reviewer told me: “Some people come in, and you get nothing out of them. But when you come, you lay everything out neatly.” When dealing with the reviewer, there was never any inner trembling. Calm. I’ll break through! I always said everywhere that I’d break through!

I take risks, of course I take risks, but without it I feel bad. In risk, my tone goes up!

<...> If there’s something I want, I want it intensely and I want it immediately! I’ve always been that way.

In my old job, I used to travel to Moscow every month, and somehow—I don’t even know how—it just all worked out. I’d visit so many departments, and every department had people with different personalities. But I’d walk in, they’d greet me with a smile, and things would just fall into place. I’d arrive, and they’d sign off on everything I needed. My bosses would only ever send me; nobody else. I always went to Moscow with a purpose. I needed to bring back results for the job; I was invested. Inside, I was completely focused—zero doubts. I believed everything would work out, and so it did. My inner voice said, "Yes, we can do this!"

When we went on business trips or to trade fairs, everyone wanted to go with me because everything always turned out well; everyone treated me wonderfully. If someone said, "But what if...?" I’d say, "No 'what ifs'! Everything is fine! We’ll get it done!" If you doubt yourself, your confidence wavers, and you might fail. Back then, everything was in short supply, and when people asked me for help, I actually liked it. People turned to me. I helped everyone out, and they all gave me a huge "thank you" afterward. It was very pleasant. I did everything for everyone, even though it was a kind of risk back then. Everyone was satisfied, and I enjoyed it.

At work everything was always my way. I had a warehouse, with a phone in the warehouse. You call, give instructions, and they tell me: “Wow, you’re just like a commander!” People sometimes take offense at my voice—it’s a commanding voice. Sometimes I say: “This is the last time! Eliminate everything immediately!” Everything was my way. There was order. I feel that people obey me. If someone didn’t obey, I would leave for a while, but in the end they still caved in.

I remember there were a lot of children’s coats. I come in—piles! I tell the storekeeper: “Give me size thirty-two.” The storekeeper starts rummaging around, and I say: “How many times do I have to say that everything needs to be sorted by size!” The next day I come in—everything is sorted by size.

I walked around the warehouse like the mistress of the place. If I came to the warehouse and someone else was there without my knowledge, it irritated me: “Why did he come onto my territory? Only I should be the mistress here, and everything should go only through me!”

Redoing things my own way—that’s mine. I come to the village to visit my brother. He has a table standing there, and I need to move it to another place, clear everything off it so nothing interferes with me. In the room I also need to rearrange things; I don’t like how he has it. I don’t think about whether my brother will like it or not—as long as I like it. And he says to me: “Don’t touch anything here! Don’t touch it! You came here just once!” And I say: “It’ll be more convenient for you, that’s all!” And I redo everything my own way.

I can read a person by their status and their intellect: I can see if a person is smart or foolish. If they understand things and know their stuff, I gravitate toward them. But if they’re just a "nobody," a hollow shell, I don’t listen. If I’m interested in a subject, I always pay close attention.

I believe I’ve spent money carefully my entire life. I know that if an item costs four hundred rubles in a shop, it’s two hundred at a wholesale warehouse. I’m always looking for ways and means, shortcuts to buy things cheaper; I protect my money. I feel a constant need to save, and I actually enjoy it. I always know what an item is truly worth.

Take the time we bought a jacket for my daughter. There was this jacket, and the seller kept saying they were selling it at a bargain price, already discounted. But I could see it wasn't worth the money—no quality, no style, nothing. In my mind, it wasn't worth four thousand; it wasn't even worth two. I can just feel it instinctively. I don’t want to waste money. I need to have my "little funds" with me. I’m terrified of being left without money.

<...> I memorize all the prices. "Oh, it’s cheaper in that shop over there!" I’ll go to a first, second, third store and remember exactly what everything costs—it’s imprinted in my head—and I compare it all.

Wherever I go, I gather information. It comes easily to me. For instance, when I decided to replace my gas stove: whenever I visited someone, I’d ask what kind of stove they had. Electric or gas? What are the advantages? By the time I walked into the store, I already knew exactly what it should be like: auto-ignition, deep baking sheets (two of them), and so on.

I pick up a lot of information from people. When I’m buying something, I’ll trek through a million stores to choose exactly what I need. It has to have a "cool" look, quality, and functionality.

It’s often like this: I decide to go somewhere, and while I’m at it, I’ll get a ton of things done. I can’t just go to one place. I’ll take one route and finish ten different tasks. I want to get everything done as fast as possible so that there’s order everywhere. I wake up in the morning, harness myself up, and work until I drop.

I write lists for myself: "do this, do that, do this." Then I cross them out: "done, done." But if I haven’t done something, I feel dissatisfied! When I do get things done, I praise myself in my heart: "Well done! Look at you!"