I told someone earlier this week that despite all the challenges I'm experiencing at work right now, I'm doing a pretty fair job at maintaining my sense of humor. I'll spare the majority of the details, mostly because shop talk doesn't always go over so well in conversation. Besides, I think there's only one regular reader of my stuff who works in the industry, and I'm quite sure, Derrick, that you've got your own set of challenges and battles that you're fighting.
Because of some of the problems that my repair facility faces presently, management executives and consultants frequently visit to get a better understanding of what is going on. I tend to take offense at this, because they usually come in and make a blanket statement to the effect that "no one seems to know what they're doing." OK, for the most part, they're right, but I've repeatedly had to stand up and say, "I am completely responsible for my repair program," and I'm starting to understand why so many people are surprised when I make that remark: no one else in the site tends to make that kind of statement.
True, I have to work more because many of my colleagues don't seem to take ownership of their assignments. Thus, I have to remind myself to babysit on a regular basis. This doesn't come easily and it's mostly at my expense. I'm quickly approaching 12-13 hour work days, and I'm still falling behind. After mentioning this to my manager, I was given an additional program to manage, and on top of that, found myself the new boss of everyone on my repair line: currently 7 people with about 20 more on the way. I've now got a better idea of what it must feel like for that unfortunate soul in the ocean trying to swim back to land against the 20 foot waves; when they try to yell for help, they end up swallowing about a gallon of water, very likely sealing their fate. I believe the expression I prefer to use is, "Estoy completemente jodido."
As I already mentioned, though, I haven't lost my sense of humor, and furthermore, don't believe I will. Take the other day for example. I was sitting at a bar called Sugar when I saw my friend Abu, the guy who used to work at my kebap shop and now just roams the streets of Bornheim bumming cigarettes from people like me. At Sugar's, they serve corn nuts as the bar snack (as opposed to peanuts or whatever). My brother in law is a pretty big fan of these hard as shit crunchy things, and I'm kind of fond of them myself. However, Abu is in a class of his own. He walked into the bar, didn't even order a drink, scooped a handful of corn nuts out and then continued walking down the street crunching merrily. He passed by two more times, each time taking the opportunity for another handful. "Man I love these!" he exclaimed each time to no one in particular. It's the little neighborhood things that make life so interesting and entertaining.
Last weekend, I was in the same bar, Sugar, having a few beers with Stefan and Veronica. Veronica is the girlfriend of Stefan's brother Tomas. Tomas was arriving back in Germany after having spent the last 12 months in Australia and New Zealand. Veronica had been down under for a fair amount of time herself, but was coming to greet her beau; Tomas was to arrive early on Sunday morning. So the three of us were enjoying some pints and having a pretty good conversation (Crunch Crunch Crunch...Abu passed by once) about art, music, language, and friends. Veronica speaks with an Australian accent, and it was a little bit unique to hear a German girl say things like "mate," or "shelia," or whatever. (note - this isn't all that surprising with non-native English speakers; I know a lot of Spanish that speak English with a very thick Irish accent).
We made it a rather early night, as Stefan and Veronica had to be at the airport around 6am the next morning to get Tomas. I took advantage of the good vibes that I was feeling and made a half drunk telephone call to Colorado, seeking a bit of a chat with one Whitman Stansbery. Alas, I got the answer machine, so I left a message that clearly showed that I was more than half drunk, then tumbled into bed for a rather decent night's sleep.
Like usual, Monday began OK, then I arrived at work, where things just went berserk: frantic customer phone calls about really silly things, colleagues trying to justify why they decided to ignore the written process and just do whatever the hell they felt like doing, managers assigning more responsibility, etc. I found myself smoking obscene amounts of cigarettes and trying to mask the rising hysteria in my voice while speaking on the telephone.
How glad I was to get a text message from Stefan inviting me to have a beer with his brother and him while travelling home on the train. I skipped the trip to the gym and was putting my gear up when the phone rang: Susi, calling up to meet for a drink. Sure, no problem.
I collected Susi at the U-Bahn, then headed to a bar to meet Stefan and Tomas. Tomas, after his year in Australia, looks like a surfer. Stefan is a bit more conservative, but acknowledged that before Tomas left, he and his brother looked a bit more alike. Stefan and Tomas are twins, but not identical. I have a close friend Jeff who, like Stefan, also has a nonidentical twin. I grew up with Jeff and Joel, and have always been fascinated at their relationship; it's different than having an older or younger sibling. Jeff and Joel have always had a cool brotherhood bond that is different than the bond I have with Lynne (never mind the fact that she's a sister), and it was interesting to me that Stefan described the bond he has with his brother in almost the exact way that Jeff and Joel explained it to me during our youth.
Tomas related a few tales of the outback, and managed to spill a beer inside of the bar. Funny that the first time I met Stefan, he spilled a beer in the bar, too. Life's little coincidences, eh?
Eventually, Tomas had to leave for the train station; he was returning to his home town that night. Stefan stayed around for another beer, then headed home, too, leaving Susi and I to continue a conversation that we've been having off and on over the times that I've seen her. She's young enough to raise an eyebrow, but nice and charming enough to make you proud to know her. Cute enough to attract quite a bit of attention from just about everyone, but not so beautiful that she's out of reach. She also happens to be the first girl I met in Frankfurt, and that was a cool thing. Not such a cool thing that her boyfriend is an American stationed in Iraq or Afghanistan (I never can I remember).
At any rate, Monday evening led to Tuesday, and I actually got so wrapped up in things at work that I briefly forgot my birthday. Fortunately my sister sent me a text message, then I checked the emails. It was nice to be remembered, and the emails really meant a lot, especially since the rest of the day at work was pretty awful. I wasn't in the best of moods on the way home from work at 9.30, but did get to talk to my folks, who were hanging out in Sevilla apparently absolutely clueless on how to make a telephone call from their mobile to me in Germany. I simply didn't have the strength to explain basic telecommunications to them for the 37th time. I always feel bad when I'm in a foul mood and talk to my parents; it's hard to express that you're happy to hear from them when you feel like everything fucking sucks. Alas, we did have a decent chat as I metroed home. I then stopped off for a kebap, and was sitting there when Lynne called up to wish birthday greetings. A super bonus was when my nephew (who should have been asleep already) sang Happy Birthday to me. Twins or no twins, I'm still very fortunate to have a super sister who somehow knows when to do the right things.
I woke up with a bit of enthusiasm on Wednesday, and vowed to have a better work day. It could have certainly gone worse, so on the way home I sent an sms to Susi to see if she felt like having a coffee. She's got a few telecommunications challenges of her own, so I really didn't expect to hear from her. I stopped off for a few groceries, then went home to have dinner. Around 10, Susi phoned to invite me out with her and a friend; they were going to another pub near the train station (yep, the Irish one) around 11. I foolishly said I'd come with, and around 11.30 was having a Guinness with Susi and a rather attractive girl named Fritzi. No, I didn't make that name up.
O'Reilly's isn't that bad of a pub, but it is a European chain. All of the employees tend to be native English speakers, and the pub caters to expats. My problem with that is that almost every time I've been in the place, its full of people that I don't really want to talk to. Susi, on the other hand, totally loves it. She actually is half American (though raised in Germany), and furthermore, believes that sometime in the next year, she will move with her boyfriend to the US where he will continue his military duties in the National Guard. Thus, she's very interested in improving her English.
The bar was crowded, but the three of us managed to find a table in the corner. We were waiting to be served, when Susi decided that she wanted to apply for a job on the spot. She headed to the bar, followed by Fritzi who wisely was trying to organize drinks, leaving me to sit in the corner staring at the wall, wondering just what the hell I was doing at this hour, knowing full well that Thursday and Friday in the office were going to be super busy.
After a few minutes passed without the return of either of the girls, I waved down a waitress and ordered a round of drinks. Two minutes after they arrived, Fritzi returned to our table to tell me that they'd found a spot at the bar, so I paid the waitress for the round, and walked up to the bar (it's kind of a big bar, this place) to find two English football hooligans chatting up Fritzi and Susi, who was particularly loving the attention.
Introductions were made, and then Susi got a job application and began to figure it out with hooligan number 2. The app was totally in English, of course. Meanwhile, I talked to hooligan number 1, who was wearing a West Ham jersey and commenting about the hammers loss to Chelsea earlier in the evening. West Ham are almost certain to be relegated; this had been their last chance to secure a few points to keep them safe.
I had actually been joking to myself that these guys were hooligans, but during our conversation, I realized that I was spot on. It didn't help matters when hooligan number 1 showed me his mobile phone, which had the West Ham firm logo as the wallpaper. This guy went on to tell me that he wasn't really involved any more, then went on to say that he knew a great many of the people that were involved in the production of Green Street Hooligans, and he missed the action of the old days.
Oh. Fuck.
The guy was good natured enough; he now works in Frankfurt in money markets. Both 1 and 2 had been here for about 5 or 6 years, and neither of them speaks a lick of German. Impressive.
I was already starting to get a bit annoyed with the whole situation, as I realized that hooligan number 2 was really interested in scoring with one or both of my friends. I'm not one that really likes to be in that situation, and hooligan or not, I was hacked that it was now close to 1am, the bar was closing, I'd hardly had any conversation with either of the girls myself, and I was going to have to taxi back to Bornheim soon.
Well, the two guys had an early start the next day, also, but tried one last time to get my friends to accompany them home, without success, thank goodness. No sooner had they stepped out of the pub, then hooligan number 3 walked over; he'd been at another table and was actually a part of another firm. However, he had the same agenda, though, and started to do the "2 minutes til bar close better chat the girl up quickest way possible" routine, and had a bit better luck. The barman kicked us out, and hooligan number 3 invited Susi to come have a drink around the corner. She was delighted to do so, and Fritzi, who was just happy to be out for a night and wasn't ready to go home either, was the same.
I stopped at the corner and gave the, "see you later, got an early start in the morning" which prompted a bit of coaxing from Fritzi, who didn't want me to go. But, she gave a friendly good bye, then, after a moment, Susi did, also, then they continued down the street with hooligan number 3. I walked back to the train station, gave some high fives to the heroin addicts still hanging about, then caught a taxi home, feeling a bit irritated with things, including myself.
It occurred to me that Susi was very used to the situation, so I wasn't really worried for either of the girls' safety. Furthermore, I have very little experience with having swarms of people trying to chat me up on a regular basis, but understand perfectly well that girls their age are certainly going to appreciate the attention. I wasn't particularly thrilled, however, to be standing there and listening to hooligan number 3 get the same chat up that had interested me several months back when I met Susi for the first time.
I thought about everything on the Thursday morning commute, and realized the absurdity of it all. Every girl I've ever met at her age has tended to act the same way. In fact, it was perfectly normal. So, who am I to pass judgement, especially since I already know most of the facts? Young girl, finishing nursing school, boyfriend far away, seeking attention from males, particularly English speakers, not easy.
I doubt if she actually has a personal ad like that, but so what if she does?
She is quite a bit more mature than this piece suggests, and perhaps more importantly, she's not nearly as superficial as it might seem.
So, after a little reflection, I was totally OK with everything, and look forward to seeing her sometime again. I arrived to work feeling relieved that I'd sorted that out, and then opened up my emails to find a surprise, my buddy Whitman had forwarded an email giving news that on April 16th, he'd gotten married to Andrea, his partner of the past 12 years.
I couldn't have felt more proud Thursday morning. Interesting that I tried to phone him over the weekend, only to find out a few days later why he wasn't at home. Interesting that while I was having beers on Monday evening wondering why he hadn't responded to my message, only to find out that he was doing something quite a bit more important.
I first met Andrea in Pennsylvania back in 1996, while I was living in Boston. Whit and Andrea met at Penn State during university, and have been together ever since. Whit and I hung out rather often during my two years in the northeast, and Whit made it to Dallas in October of 1998 after I'd returned.
Sadly, I have not seen either of them since that time, though we talked frequently over the next 8 years. Whit and Andrea relocated to Colorado and have made quite the nice life for themselves; a life that I've only heard about as the travel schedules were difficult to manage.
In 2005, Whit had mentioned that after 10 years of being together, they had made the decision to marry officially. I was proud and honored to be informed, and at the time planned to attend the ceremony. Well, I'd wondered from time to time about things over the past two years. Whit and Andrea's families live in PA, so arrangements were going to require planning.
Unfortunately, I've lost a bit of touch with Whit in the past 12 months (thus the drunk phone call last Saturday), but like with all of my friends, I never stop thinking about them.
So, Whit and Andrea, many congratulations! I look forward to seeing the pix and hearing the stories of the trip to Hawaii.
With all the rough moments life is throwing my way right now, my week has been positive for three key bits. My nephew singing Happy Birthday to me, Whit and Andrea married, and a nice
reminder about a certain football fixture in the English premiership.
Last year around this time, Chris and I met up in London for our first Arsenal match. Arsenal and Tottenham tied that day, but the weekend was absolutely brilliant (reread the events of that weekend from my post last April).
This year, the fixture is home to Tottenham, and in a couple of hours, I will go to O'Reilly's pub to watch the match. I may not like the pub's patron's all that much, but they're showing the match there, so there you have it.
I'll talk more about pubs in the near future; I think my local is about to reopen.
While my pieces may have a pessimistic tone about them, those of you who have seen glimpses of the true life of Bryan know full well that I'm still always laughing on the inside, still overly pessimistic, and still absolutely thrilled with my experiences here. Sure, I smirk a lot, but at least I do it in German.
Thanks for your thoughts and support. C'mon Arsenal!
keep the faith
bryan
Soundtrack:
The Exploited - Driving Me Insane
Chick Corea and Bobby McFerrin - Mozart N. 23 in A Major
Old 97's - Nineteen
Maná - Como Un Perro Enloquecido
Bouncing Souls - True Believer
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