The screen flickered. A pixelated version of Garik Kharlamov appeared, wearing a cheap wig and holding a battered acoustic guitar.

The next morning, in a silent, high-stakes board meeting, Igor’s phone screamed at maximum volume in Surovyi’s signature gravelly voice: "SIII-YAAAAA!" followed by a nonsensical rhyme about a lonely turnip.

Igor realized then that Eduard Surovyi wasn't just a meme; he was a universal language of chaos.

The CEO froze. The room was silent. Then, the CEO whispered, "Is that the 2014 unplugged version? Send me the link."