I thought for a long time what to do. Studying at the institute did not fully satisfy my creative ambitions, and I had so much energy that it urgently needed a way out. All my classmates were doing something. Someone worked in his father’s cellular firm, and someone washed the floors in a dormitory for fifteen hundred a month. I wanted to make good money and “such work, so as not to work”. I began to search: bought magazines, put around many newspapers and, confident in the result, lazily leafed through, sorting through the pages. About two hours later, I realized that everything that they offered there required good preparation, at least a minimum work experience, and in most cases, professionalism. I possessed nothing of this because I had been living in parental care all my life. I was disappointed, but I would not give up.

I tried searching by ad again and again. Work had to be found eventually, but easily it could not be done. I already wanted to despair completely and stop looking, but then I had the opportunity to work as a topical journalist. I was delighted, immediately “washed” my new position with my friends, but after running two days at social events in Moscow, beating up heels at modern disco parties, interviewing everyone in a row, I realized that this work was not for me too, because this is really a job on which you get tired and which you give almost all your strength to.

And then my close friend found out about my problems (and about them, I screamed at every corner). She did not suffer from this, she lived like she wanted, and at the same time, she always had money. How she earned it was always a mystery to me. But I had no particular interest because I had never borrowed from her and did not think about work at all. And now how she got cash, has become vital for me. She volunteered to help me.

As a child, I went to a music school, where I learned how to play the piano as all smart and exemplary children did. Like all normal children, I hated with the black hatred the solfeggio and my teachers, drenched myself in sweat of excitement on exams and tried to get rid of this school as soon as possible, but, as luck would have it, they considered me a capable child and, instead of expelling, tormented me more than all the rest taken together. Because of the music school, I was deprived of children's joys such as fussing with peers, walking in the yard and everything else. The music school was hell, I did not see any prospect in this, but now, years later, I realized that this could come in handy. The girlfriend offered to earn extra money on the Arbat.

"But I play only the piano! I don't think that it can be easily entered there," I really could not imagine how, playing such a huge instrument, I could use this skill in practice, moreover working in the street. But they explained to me how useful this skill is. In short, a few days later I played in the newly created group of "hippars" on keyboards.

At first, I was very afraid, then I just started to get worried, then I felt interested, and then an unusual feeling of satisfaction came. I earned money myself, and in a rather pleasant way. Playing on the Arbat, I got used to the attention of people. Arbat parties are very diverse. Their color is due to the merging of many most different people into one big pile. Young people prefer to stick together, and it becomes unimportant on the street who your father is and how much he earns. It's just that everyone hangs out, trying not to interfere with each other, although this does not always work. Sometimes there are big fights, and even the police prefer not to intervene. But this happens very rarely.

So, I stood in the company of street musicians and played. Frankly speaking, our music wasn't especially needed by anyone, because those who passed by were mostly interested in talking, and they did not pay attention to us, moreover since the same guys were standing next to us and played and sang the same way. To stand out on the Arbat, you need to try hard. But youth solidarity always struck me: they threw coins to us, regardless of whether they listened or not. Seeing that we, not paying attention to the seasons and weather conditions, still stand and play, the guys appreciated our zeal and paid us for the background that we created with our music.

And we tried with might and main. Rain and snow were not a problem for us. The problem was different: how to attract, really interest the listeners, to make sure that they pay not for the background, but for the pleasure. It was almost impossible, because there are many people and you will not please everyone. But we did it. Once our soloist decided to radically change the program. Everyone was accustomed to hearing from us tunes in the style of the seventies (this was befitting our "hippy" status), and he stuffed shades of different epochs into our new songs and got the most unexpected result.

At first, everyone else, including me, who, after a long service, got the right to vote, was categorically against it, but when he took advantage of the undeniable right to insist on his own and try to do it his way, we agreed, grumbling displeased. We rehearsed new songs and went on a regular evening work. In the first few minutes, everything went disgusting, people passing by wrinkled their noses and turned away, tried to go faster, but then we got angry and played so violently that people liked it! In the end, we made a splash. They forced us to play again and again. Since then we have been in the spotlight.

I found the job of my liking. Arbat is the whole world, and it accepted me. I do not earn a lot of money, but I have the most important thing - the joy of communication.