I was sitting in my tiny apartment last winter, staring at the same four walls for the third month in a row, after the factory shut down half the line and handed me my last paycheck. Forty-seven years old, knees shot from twenty years on concrete floors, and suddenly nobody needs a guy who can fix a conveyor belt in his sleep. Bills piling up, fridge getting emptier, pride getting thinner than the soles of my boots. That’s when I first heard about vvada from my cousin Dima, my old coworker who also got the axe, sent me a screenshot at two in the morning: “Bro, look, I just pulled out 38 thousand without leaving the couch.” I laughed at…
I was sitting in my tiny apartment last winter, staring at the same four walls for the third month in a row, after the factory shut down half the line and handed me my last paycheck. Forty-seven years old, knees shot from twenty years on concrete floors, and suddenly nobody needs a guy who can fix a conveyor belt in his sleep. Bills piling up, fridge getting emptier, pride getting thinner than the soles of my boots. That’s when I first heard about vvada from my cousin Dima, my old coworker who also got the axe, sent me a screenshot at two in the morning: “Bro, look, I just pulled out 38 thousand without leaving the couch.” I laughed at…