The Most Evil Kind.

The road wasn't pleasing. Not only did they get lost and take the wrong turn, but the asphalt surface seemed to exist only on paper, unlike the money allocated to pave it. And as a result - there was no asphalt on the road, but the money was there. However, the latter was in foreign officials' accounts - the same officials who once again prohibited themselves from having them.

And now, for what seemed like hours, the car suffered, hopping from bump to bump on what was marked on the map as a road. Along with the car, four other people were also engaged in this hopping exercise.

They got tired of blaming each other an hour ago. They got tired of blaming one another half an hour ago. Now, in complete silence, three passengers sat glued to their mobile phones, while the driver tried to make the car's life easier by skillfully steering it toward hills that didn't look too steep and potholes that didn't seem too deep.

The corporate weekend was starting with spoiled moods.

When a week ago they were informed that "in order to strengthen relationships and boost corporate spirit to new heights," they would be taken to a resort with "all-inclusive" facilities at no cost, and management wouldn't require any compensation or additional expenses, everyone embraced the idea with enthusiasm.

Which, however, quickly faded when it turned out that it wouldn't be on a workday but on a weekend, it was mandatory, and it was just an ordinary sanatorium, not too far from the city, and the management would also attend, albeit not in full force, which wasn't surprising, as relaxation in Courchevel was definitely better than in a budget sanatorium.

The idea was poorly executed from the start, and people tried every possible way to dodge it. But almost no one succeeded. So on Friday evening, several departments set off in full force to the sanatorium 170 kilometers away from the city on specially arranged buses.

The only concession allowed was for a few guys due to family circumstances to arrive on Saturday by their own transport, with strict instructions: "be there by noon."

So now, four completely disgruntled individuals of unremarkable appearance were driving, striving to comply with the boss's instruction to be there by midday. Although they had plenty of time, the nasty worm of anxiety started gnawing away - nobody wanted to lose a well-paying job, and the management clearly had its own undisclosed plans for this event, and the consequences of failure could entail not only reduced bonuses.

— "Alright, Sergey, enough, look for the locals - we'll be looking for Susanna!"

— "Oh, shut up, advisor, you know where to go! Last time, because of you, we took the wrong turn! I'll come back and we'll go the right way, without any smart ideas from your side!"

— "Damn it, you incompetent driver, I told you from the beginning to take the map, but you said you knew the way, and now there are signs everywhere and we have mobiles with internet access!"

— "I do know the way, but for once, I decided to listen to you! So shut up until you continue your journey on foot."

— "Both of you calm down!" - the voice from the backseat, belonging to a very young guy, unexpectedly managed to calm them both down. Alexander, although the youngest in their company and holding a low position as a customer service manager, enjoyed great authority for his intelligence and exceptional integrity. Although whether the latter was an advantage was hard to say.

— "Sergey, how do you want to drive? Without asking locals and without having a map? Or do you really know the way?"

— "Yes, everything's fine, Sasha, I know the direction. You're aware that I have a natural gift for finding the right place," the driver's last statement, though disputable, sometimes he did manage to find the right place simply based on his intuition, "we need to go right, as soon as the road turns right, we'll turn."

— "Then you'll have to explain to my wife why they didn't pay me the bonus," another voice from the backseat spoke up, Gennady, the former head of the marketing department, - "she'll be glad to hear about your intuition, just don't let her grab a frying pan."

Everyone involuntarily smiled. The problems of their senior colleague with his wife, a big fan of solving problems hands-on, were known to everyone in the firm, and the trio of his close bowling buddies knew this better than anyone else.