Spring is absconding. More wickedly, it seems to be teasing us.
So anyway, to get this narrative going, let’s travel back 10 years to the beginning.
Imagine you would be an ex-Stasi official in your mid 40’s, now living in the middle of what you believed to be the wrong side. Contributing towards your continual process of disillusionment, is an early twenty something Indian engineer of the ‘weaker’ sex, presented as a competent, qualified, consultant? Seriously?? Granted, whilst not entirely ugly and not entirely unpleasant. Still, seriously, a consultant??
Would you allow yourself to trust in something more than you have been programmed for? Would you shed your inhibitions towards the unknown or seemingly strange? I think not.
Turns out that the collaboration evolves into an entirely ugly and an entirely unpleasant experience. Wrought by a twisted play of ownership by the client over what was perceived to be the hired-hand, and a sick evaluation of price versus commodity (which in this case was the consultant. And oh yeah, no points for guessing that the consultant in question was me.)
The equation results in Mr. ex-Stasi feeling cheated for receiving less that his money’s worth, if only by the virtue of age. To express his discontent, among other things, I was also asked several times a day to confirm my age. As if the hours in the day would help in some way to add to the missing years. I was allowed to arrive and leave from my place of work only with my ex-Stasi boss as an escort…in the end I received 1/9th of what my company earned on me. So, it was at least (not)worth it.
If I may sound bitter through any of this, it doesn't reflect my state of mind. I’m Simply not sugar coating a memory that wasn’t sweet.
Well, before I confirm the popular notion of the hostile Germans, I gave this a few more shots. Any theory remains unproven until repetitive pattern occurrences make it a fact.