Once upon a time, there lived a man named UNCREATIVE. He had no name. They called him simply UNCREATIVE.
He was a completely simple man. He always woke up at the same time. By the way, it didn’t matter what color or pattern his bed linen was. He chose his own birthday present. He even said, “IT DOESN’T MATTER WHICH!”
Then he always carried out his morning exercises in the same manner. After that, he went to a regular bathroom and took a regular shower. Then he had breakfast. It must be said that this man’s breakfast was always the same: two sandwiches, an egg, and coffee.
Then our hero got ready for work. He put on his simple suit, tied an ordinary tie, and took a nondescript briefcase with him.
He went outside and headed to the bus stop. He didn’t have a car. After all, that was an unnecessary expense. And our UNCREATIVE man didn’t like spending.
He knew everyone at the bus stop by sight, as he encountered them every day, but he didn’t talk to anyone or interact with anyone. When the bus arrived, he boarded and always sat in the same seat by the window, idly beginning to read a black-and-white newspaper. People sit down next to him at different stops, but he doesn’t notice them, because he’s reading a newspaper.
It must be said that a NON-CREATIVE person reads a lot, but only about his work. He considers himself a professional.
Finally, the bus stops and the man gets off and heads to work.
At work, this person is very taciturn; he doesn’t ask his colleagues how they are doing or care about the news. It’s NOT IMPORTANT to him.
His job is very simple. He does what he’s told. No more, no less.
You might ask, “Vova, what’s his job?” I’ll tell you: the simplest and… uh, UNCREATIVE.
During lunchtime, our UNCREATIVE person goes to a separate cafe near their workplace and orders food from the waiter: “I’ll have the usual.”
After lunch, they don’t hang around in the break room, where colleagues discuss upcoming events. He returns to work the tried and tested way.
In the evening he leaves work, takes the same bus and returns home. On the way, he stops at the store and buys food for the evening as always.
Coming home, they prepare dinner in complete silence. After all, he lives alone. He has no family, no animals, no friends. He doesn’t listen to music, doesn’t hang pictures in his house, and doesn’t participate in celebrations.
Dinner is quiet.
After dinner, our person does not turn on the TV, does not use the Internet, does not even listen to the radio. He sits down in his old, creaky and almost broken, but comfortable chair and reads only one and the same book.
Feeling a yawn, he puts the book aside, gets up from the chair, and goes to take a shower. Then he makes his usual bed, puts on his pajamas, and goes to bed.
Then he sighs and closes his eyes. He’s asleep. He’s dreaming…
