2025-07-11, 05:16 PM
Ma&Ma
I could have killed my mother when she told me just before closing time, I would have another appointment. Instead of now with Jost, his Johannes and a few good friends naked at the pool and watch the sausages while tanning, I was allowed to look at their very overgrown garden with potential customers; and that on the evening before Ascension Day. One glance was enough to see that you could have easily staged Sleeping Beauty here, at least the scene with the thorny hedge.
All right, I may be the managing director of Tenhagen Gardening and Landscaping, but even a boss has to call it a day sometimes! Apparently my mother, who at almost 60 years old is still the heart and soul of the company, begrudges me this little bit of freedom. What did she mean when she foisted this evening meeting on me?
I should make an effort to get the job, she said, because the new owner of the house was the new city treasurer and you could always use good connections in the administration.
The man in charge of municipal finances, Ballenburg by the name, I estimated him to be in his early to mid-forties, was actually an affable guy who limited himself to the essentials. His wife, however, about ten years younger than her husband and thus my age, more than made up for his taciturnity.
She talked like a waterfall, without a full stop or a comma. The garden of the property that the couple had just purchased measured almost 3,000 square meters and, as already mentioned, was in a rather poor state. Just clearing the undergrowth would cost a four-figure sum and the driveway would need to be completely redone.
However, that was no wonder, because the old owner, Josefine Kruse-Hoppeditz, had hardly left the house after her stroke fifteen years ago. Although she had been dead for more than four years, an inheritance dispute in the farming family probably prevented a faster utilization of the former retirement home of the Kruse-Hoppeditz farm.
And? What do you think? How much will it cost to get the garden back in shape?
The suit-wearer looked at me expectantly when we arrived back at the house. I took a deep breath.
Well, to turn her garden back into a garden that can be called a garden, I'm looking at a mid-five figure range. But with all her wishes? I'll need almost half a million.
Please? You're not serious, are you?
The suit-wearer's eyes almost popped out of his head. I smiled smugly at him.
Yes, they are, because it's her special requests that are making the project more expensive. Her three children are not yet in elementary school, so I advise against swimming ponds and similar water features. I would also not build any natural stone walls, but plant a hedge instead, which fits better into the landscape and is 95% cheaper. The same applies to the driveway, which is currently a better dirt road where you sink in the rain. You need a proper substructure and it doesn't matter whether you lay simple interlocking paving or expensive cobblestones on it.
In figures?
The man was curt! I was still grinning.
Including the substructure and labor costs, one square meter of composite stones is around 30 euros; for cobblestones, you would have to expect to pay two to three times that amount. A meter of natural stone wall, at two meters high, is around 1,000 euros; a meter of hedge costs between 30 and 50 euros, depending on the height of the plants; and they need almost 250 meters of fence.
That's a significant difference!
You could see that he was calculating.
“To be honest, we just bought the house and are budgeting 100,000 for the renovation, so more than 20,000 is not available for the garden at the moment. Can you do anything with that?”
I nodded.
In return, you can definitely get the clearing, a half-height hedge and the driveway. But more than a kind of English landscape garden, that is, a lawn and a few rhododendrons as eye-catchers, is not feasible with this budget, maybe a fruit and vegetable garden. But more?
Then we'll do it like that!?
I love happy customers. We arranged an appointment in my office for more detailed planning and I finally went to my evening event.
*-*-*
My mother came storming into the office the day after Pentecost, looking joyfully excited.
“Son, Hans just called, his wife went into labor, he'll probably be out of commission for the next few days. We'll probably have to reschedule the work at Ballenberg.”
Couldn't the new earthling have come earlier?
“Never mind! I'll call the job center in a minute and hire a day laborer. We want to start clearing the land anyway, don't we?
Whatever you say, my little one.
My old lady smiled at me. I'm not a slave owner, but for some jobs I like to have the option of hiring day laborers. If all I have to do is operate a shredder, why should I hire a trained worker for the job?
I prefer to take an unskilled worker who feeds the branches into the machine bit by bit. OK, it may take him a little longer to get the same result as a skilled worker, but when you look at the costs, the unskilled worker is unbeatable.
I was just about to go on my lunch break when the phone rang.
“Landscaping Tenhagen?”
My conversation partner cleared his throat.
“Klaus Sinkewitz from the job center.”
Job center? Was there something wrong with the day laborer I had hired for the job? But he had been at work for three hours already.
“Mr. Sinkewitz! What can I do for you?”
“Mr. Tenhagen, would you be interested in a worker who costs nothing?”
He seemed nervous. So it wasn't about my day laborers, I was relieved for the moment.
“Who do you want to offer me and why are you coming to me with this?”
“I'm desperately looking for an internship for a young man without a school-leaving certificate.”
He took a breath.
My colleague Werner from the day placement office told me that you often request unskilled laborers, so I thought I could place him with you. However, he would need the position yesterday at the latest.
There was plenty of work to do and if Hans was absent for a longer period of time, I would need a replacement for him. Why should I pay a day laborer when a volunteer would do the same for free? So, why not? It was worth a try. “Come by with the boy then. Say, at 2:00 p.m.?
Agreed? And thanks in advance.”
He hung up.
*-*-*
The social pedagogue from the office was even punctual. Three minutes before the agreed time there was a knock at my office door. I had reckoned, according to the voice, with an older man, but the guy was at least five years younger than me and I will be 33 this year. I offered him a chair.
So, Mr. Sinkewitz, where is your protégé then?
He should be here in half an hour.
He sat down.
I wanted to talk to you alone first because the situation is a bit tricky.
How so, strange?
I looked at him questioningly.
Well, Matthias?
The bespectacled man took a deep breath.
“He fled from his family for the first time at the age of 11. Alcohol and beatings dominated family life, his older brother was addicted to drugs, his sister was a prostitute, so it was pretty much a neglected childhood.”
“Not a good childhood!”
I leaned back in my chair. He looked at me openly.
“In my opinion, the youth welfare office reacted too late. They only became active when Matthias, who was almost fifteen, was picked up by the Italian police in Naples. He then spent time in various foster families, homes, psychiatric institutions and on the street. At the beginning of last year, after his brother died of an overdose, he had a change of heart and got himself somewhat back on track. Since then, he has been living in a supervised living group.
The story wasn't great, but why the rush?
And why should he start today?
He turned eighteen last week and with adulthood, the care of the youth welfare office actually stops, unless,? my counterpart looked at me desperately,? the resident is in an employment or training relationship. If that is the case, then he can stay there for the time being, a kind of grace period, until he finds his own apartment.”
That made sense.
“And to make sure he doesn't end up back on the street, he's supposed to do an internship?”
“Exactly! Officially, the youth department of the job center has been responsible for him for a week.”
Klaus Sinkewitz took a deep breath.
Normally we would have heard from them three months ago, but his case worker had a car accident and went into rehab. What can I say? We didn't hear anything and I only found out about his fate last week.
I nodded.
So you need time to sort out certain things?
You said it! If I can't find him a place to stay, he'll be homeless next week and all the progress he's made in the last thirteen months will be for nothing. Do you think he'll pull himself together again then?
He shrugged his shoulders resignedly. I rubbed my chin.
So the internship is just a formality?
No! He should definitely be working. Matthias needs a task, needs a structured life.
The man from the office seemed desperate.
If you would be willing to extend the internship to the end of August, then I have time to establish myself as a point of contact and take care of the rest, such as an apartment and household. The administration has failed him more than once.
I could only nod in agreement.
“Okay, then I'll put the end date as 31/08. Would it help if I backdate the contract a bit? Then the whole thing doesn't look quite so forced!?”
Sinkewitz's eyes lit up.
He signs an internship contract with them and sends it to me. Due to mail delivery times and the holidays, it was Pentecost, I only find out today, visit him on his first day of work and then report to the youth welfare office that he has to stay in his previous environment for the time being.
I laughed.
That's what I thought.
At that moment, there was a knock on the door and, without waiting for an answer, my mother was standing in the frame. “Son, our new intern has arrived and, before you ask, the coffee is already being made.”
When Matthias entered the room, I had to swallow first. His blond hair, almost shoulder-length, was combed into a center parting; the white shirt was probably two sizes too big for him, and he literally sank into it.
If it had been floor-length, he could have been described as a small, delicate angel. My mouth went dry as he gracefully approached me. He was barely a handspan shorter than me, but at almost six feet ten inches tall, almost everyone is shorter than me.
His hand, which he held out to greet me, was sweaty; he seemed excited but at the same time also shy.
Over coffee, we discussed the formalities and the man from the office then left, leaving me alone with the angelic creature.
“Tell me, how do you plan to get to us every morning?”
“Bus or bike?”
He brushed his hair out of his face.
“No driver's license and no car.”
“It's going to be difficult with the bus; we start at eight o'clock.”
Besides our company, there were only farmers in the area and the public transportation system in our rural area was not very well developed: the next bus stop was almost three kilometers away. I stood up.
“Come with me then, I'll show you where you'll be working up a sweat for the next few months. You won't need to go to a gym, the muscles will come from all by themselves.”
A hint of a smile flitted across his face.
“I didn't have any money for something like this before.”
We left my office and went through the garden center, which also belongs to our company. From there, we headed for the large outdoor area, then to the tree nursery and later to the greenhouses, finally ending the tour after more than an hour at the actual company yard.
I pointed to one of the buildings
“That's where the staff rooms are, and that's where we'll get you kitted out.”
We entered the small hallway and stopped in front of the time clock.
“Please clock in and out when you arrive and leave, and the hour's break each day will be deducted automatically. If you forget, just come and see me and we'll enter the time manually.”
He nodded assent.
“The women's changing room is on the right, so it's out of bounds for you; the men change here.”
I grinned at him as I opened the door.
“You can either change here or come to work in your work clothes, the choice is yours. However, you should have a complete set of clothes in your locker, as you may well need clean things at times.”
Which locker is free?
Matthias' voice sounded a bit subdued.
I went down the row.
“Here, 22 is not occupied.”
“That's my birthday.”
He smiled at me. I looked into his green eyes.
“The door on the right leads to the toilet, I don't need to explain how to use it, and on the left is the shower, but I won't give you any instructions for that either.”
He looked at me shyly.
“Do I have to shower here?”
That's up to you! You can if you want, but you don't have to. It's your decision. The only rule is that your locker must always be locked. Nothing's ever been taken from here, but...
I put my hand on his shoulder. ...just to avoid any trouble, it's better to lock the door. Follow me then.
From the changing room we went to the break room.
“The fridges are for everyone, but you should mark your things, so here's a pen. You can either bring your own drinks or help yourself to the crates there. Then just put a cross on the list, the bottle costs 50 cents, and you get the bill at the end of the month.” I pointed to the kitchenette.
“Unfortunately, we don't have a cafeteria here, so you have to take care of your own meals. Most people bring their own sandwiches, but the microwave and stove are there for everyone. Just one small request: please put the dishes in the dishwasher after use, leftovers don't go down well with colleagues. The coffee is free, just put the cups in the dishwasher after use.
? In the dishwasher?
For the first time he showed me his dimples. I couldn't help grinning too.
?You said it! Then we'll go to the warehouse, you need your work clothes. What size do you actually wear???
106 or 110, depending on how it turns out.?
He was being the shy angel again. The storeroom was the only room in the entire staff area that was always locked and only my mother and I had a key.
I opened the door, felt for the light switch, and entered the room full of shelves.
“Well, we don't have your size in stock, but it'll work just as well. Here, try this coat on.”
The green XL coat was quite loose, and he looked a bit unsure.
“Do we wear coats at work?”
Only if you work in the shop. You'll do whatever needs doing and wherever people are needed, so you might also work in the garden center.
I looked at him. In the shop, you can either work in your normal street clothes plus an apron, or you can put on your green stuff, it's up to you and your mood.
I turned back to the shelves and handed him a pack of ear defenders, then I grabbed a pair of earmuffs, also known as Mickey Mouse. As he held them in his hands, I looked in a box for a work helmet.
The intern's eyes grew wider and wider.
“What's that for?”
“From time to time it can get quite loud, for example when you are standing at the shredder or have to cut stones. The earplugs are usually sufficient, but if you want it quieter, you can use the earplugs and the headphones. Please put them on?”
“Will do.”
Matthias put the black thing on his ears and arranged his hair. “Like that?”
“Exactly, and now for the helmet.”
I put the hard polyethylene shell on his blond head; it wobbled quite a bit. A slight smell of sweat reached my nose. I took it off again and turned the adjusting screw. Once it was back on his angelic hair, I was satisfied with the result, and the safety gear was on tight around the top.
I grinned at him as I fiddled with his chin strap to adjust the helmet to his size. I touched his slender neck and his slightly flushed cheeks more often than was necessary.
He swallowed, his Adam's apple moving quite violently. When everything was in place, I smiled at him.
“You can take the pieces off now.” ”You may need to adjust the inside a little when you put the helmet on without ear protection, but you'll have to do that as needed.”
“When do I need a helmet?”
His pulse had still not calmed down.
“When felling trees, driving excavators, loading and unloading. Normally, it's more of a hindrance, but the insurance company and occupational safety require it.”
I turned to the work jackets.
“If you're wearing an undershirt, please take off your shirt.”
His T-shirt looked pretty washed out, the band around his neck was stretched out of shape. I handed him a top in size 50, it looked like it had been shot into, the sleeves much too short. With the items in size 56, the only other size available, it looked a bit better, but I still didn't really like it.
I put the order for work clothes on my to-do list.
Hello? Is someone in the warehouse?
A woman's voice broke the stifling silence in the chamber. I laughed.
Don't worry, dear Sylvia. I'm just fitting out our intern.
Then it's all right! I just wanted to smoke a cigarette.
A door was heard to open and then close again.
“Er, what exactly is the smoking policy here?”
He looked at the floor.
“Never in front of customers! If you work in the center, you shouldn't take a cigarette break when the shop is full.”
I laughed at him.
“Do you smoke?”
?Occasionally? when I can afford it.?
Shyness seemed to be his middle name.
I pointed to the door.
?Just like me, I'm an occasional smoker. Then let's take a break.?
In the break room, I introduced the intern to the floral specialist, who was sitting at the table with a half-full cup of coffee in front of her.
“So that's the new guy?“ the boss said, repeating what I'd already been told.
“I guess I am.”
He shyly held out his hand.
The woman in her mid-forties grinned.
“And where are you doing your internship?” “At a center or in landscaping?”
Matthias rolled his eyes, so I offered the answer for him.
He'll be spending more time with the guys out in nature, but he should get a taste of everything.”
“You want the whole nine yards again?”
The bespectacled woman stubbed out her cigarette and put her empty cup in the dishwasher.
“See you later, then!”
When we had finished our lung-bratwursts, we went back to the chamber, this time I closed the door as a precaution.
“What size shoes do you have?”
“44 or 45, depending on the brand. Do I need work shoes, too?”
He looked at me questioningly.
“I have a pair of Bundeswehr boots at home that I can wear.”
I had to grin.
“They'll do for starters, because we still have to order work shoes. But we still need rubber boots. Here, try these on!” ”It's a 46, but...”
He peeled out of his sneakers.
“The last time I wore these was as a child.”
“Here they are part of everyday life.”
I looked at his feet and noticed a big hole in his right sock.
“Besides, they're more appropriate for some jobs that require the use of a pressure washer than heavy work boots.” ”Here?”
I threw him a thick pair of gray cotton knee-highs, Bundeswehr brand.
“Please put them over your socks and jeans and then into the boots.”
He did as I asked, and then pulled on the boots with a slight groan.
I could have killed my mother when she told me just before closing time, I would have another appointment. Instead of now with Jost, his Johannes and a few good friends naked at the pool and watch the sausages while tanning, I was allowed to look at their very overgrown garden with potential customers; and that on the evening before Ascension Day. One glance was enough to see that you could have easily staged Sleeping Beauty here, at least the scene with the thorny hedge.
All right, I may be the managing director of Tenhagen Gardening and Landscaping, but even a boss has to call it a day sometimes! Apparently my mother, who at almost 60 years old is still the heart and soul of the company, begrudges me this little bit of freedom. What did she mean when she foisted this evening meeting on me?
I should make an effort to get the job, she said, because the new owner of the house was the new city treasurer and you could always use good connections in the administration.
The man in charge of municipal finances, Ballenburg by the name, I estimated him to be in his early to mid-forties, was actually an affable guy who limited himself to the essentials. His wife, however, about ten years younger than her husband and thus my age, more than made up for his taciturnity.
She talked like a waterfall, without a full stop or a comma. The garden of the property that the couple had just purchased measured almost 3,000 square meters and, as already mentioned, was in a rather poor state. Just clearing the undergrowth would cost a four-figure sum and the driveway would need to be completely redone.
However, that was no wonder, because the old owner, Josefine Kruse-Hoppeditz, had hardly left the house after her stroke fifteen years ago. Although she had been dead for more than four years, an inheritance dispute in the farming family probably prevented a faster utilization of the former retirement home of the Kruse-Hoppeditz farm.
And? What do you think? How much will it cost to get the garden back in shape?
The suit-wearer looked at me expectantly when we arrived back at the house. I took a deep breath.
Well, to turn her garden back into a garden that can be called a garden, I'm looking at a mid-five figure range. But with all her wishes? I'll need almost half a million.
Please? You're not serious, are you?
The suit-wearer's eyes almost popped out of his head. I smiled smugly at him.
Yes, they are, because it's her special requests that are making the project more expensive. Her three children are not yet in elementary school, so I advise against swimming ponds and similar water features. I would also not build any natural stone walls, but plant a hedge instead, which fits better into the landscape and is 95% cheaper. The same applies to the driveway, which is currently a better dirt road where you sink in the rain. You need a proper substructure and it doesn't matter whether you lay simple interlocking paving or expensive cobblestones on it.
In figures?
The man was curt! I was still grinning.
Including the substructure and labor costs, one square meter of composite stones is around 30 euros; for cobblestones, you would have to expect to pay two to three times that amount. A meter of natural stone wall, at two meters high, is around 1,000 euros; a meter of hedge costs between 30 and 50 euros, depending on the height of the plants; and they need almost 250 meters of fence.
That's a significant difference!
You could see that he was calculating.
“To be honest, we just bought the house and are budgeting 100,000 for the renovation, so more than 20,000 is not available for the garden at the moment. Can you do anything with that?”
I nodded.
In return, you can definitely get the clearing, a half-height hedge and the driveway. But more than a kind of English landscape garden, that is, a lawn and a few rhododendrons as eye-catchers, is not feasible with this budget, maybe a fruit and vegetable garden. But more?
Then we'll do it like that!?
I love happy customers. We arranged an appointment in my office for more detailed planning and I finally went to my evening event.
*-*-*
My mother came storming into the office the day after Pentecost, looking joyfully excited.
“Son, Hans just called, his wife went into labor, he'll probably be out of commission for the next few days. We'll probably have to reschedule the work at Ballenberg.”
Couldn't the new earthling have come earlier?
“Never mind! I'll call the job center in a minute and hire a day laborer. We want to start clearing the land anyway, don't we?
Whatever you say, my little one.
My old lady smiled at me. I'm not a slave owner, but for some jobs I like to have the option of hiring day laborers. If all I have to do is operate a shredder, why should I hire a trained worker for the job?
I prefer to take an unskilled worker who feeds the branches into the machine bit by bit. OK, it may take him a little longer to get the same result as a skilled worker, but when you look at the costs, the unskilled worker is unbeatable.
I was just about to go on my lunch break when the phone rang.
“Landscaping Tenhagen?”
My conversation partner cleared his throat.
“Klaus Sinkewitz from the job center.”
Job center? Was there something wrong with the day laborer I had hired for the job? But he had been at work for three hours already.
“Mr. Sinkewitz! What can I do for you?”
“Mr. Tenhagen, would you be interested in a worker who costs nothing?”
He seemed nervous. So it wasn't about my day laborers, I was relieved for the moment.
“Who do you want to offer me and why are you coming to me with this?”
“I'm desperately looking for an internship for a young man without a school-leaving certificate.”
He took a breath.
My colleague Werner from the day placement office told me that you often request unskilled laborers, so I thought I could place him with you. However, he would need the position yesterday at the latest.
There was plenty of work to do and if Hans was absent for a longer period of time, I would need a replacement for him. Why should I pay a day laborer when a volunteer would do the same for free? So, why not? It was worth a try. “Come by with the boy then. Say, at 2:00 p.m.?
Agreed? And thanks in advance.”
He hung up.
*-*-*
The social pedagogue from the office was even punctual. Three minutes before the agreed time there was a knock at my office door. I had reckoned, according to the voice, with an older man, but the guy was at least five years younger than me and I will be 33 this year. I offered him a chair.
So, Mr. Sinkewitz, where is your protégé then?
He should be here in half an hour.
He sat down.
I wanted to talk to you alone first because the situation is a bit tricky.
How so, strange?
I looked at him questioningly.
Well, Matthias?
The bespectacled man took a deep breath.
“He fled from his family for the first time at the age of 11. Alcohol and beatings dominated family life, his older brother was addicted to drugs, his sister was a prostitute, so it was pretty much a neglected childhood.”
“Not a good childhood!”
I leaned back in my chair. He looked at me openly.
“In my opinion, the youth welfare office reacted too late. They only became active when Matthias, who was almost fifteen, was picked up by the Italian police in Naples. He then spent time in various foster families, homes, psychiatric institutions and on the street. At the beginning of last year, after his brother died of an overdose, he had a change of heart and got himself somewhat back on track. Since then, he has been living in a supervised living group.
The story wasn't great, but why the rush?
And why should he start today?
He turned eighteen last week and with adulthood, the care of the youth welfare office actually stops, unless,? my counterpart looked at me desperately,? the resident is in an employment or training relationship. If that is the case, then he can stay there for the time being, a kind of grace period, until he finds his own apartment.”
That made sense.
“And to make sure he doesn't end up back on the street, he's supposed to do an internship?”
“Exactly! Officially, the youth department of the job center has been responsible for him for a week.”
Klaus Sinkewitz took a deep breath.
Normally we would have heard from them three months ago, but his case worker had a car accident and went into rehab. What can I say? We didn't hear anything and I only found out about his fate last week.
I nodded.
So you need time to sort out certain things?
You said it! If I can't find him a place to stay, he'll be homeless next week and all the progress he's made in the last thirteen months will be for nothing. Do you think he'll pull himself together again then?
He shrugged his shoulders resignedly. I rubbed my chin.
So the internship is just a formality?
No! He should definitely be working. Matthias needs a task, needs a structured life.
The man from the office seemed desperate.
If you would be willing to extend the internship to the end of August, then I have time to establish myself as a point of contact and take care of the rest, such as an apartment and household. The administration has failed him more than once.
I could only nod in agreement.
“Okay, then I'll put the end date as 31/08. Would it help if I backdate the contract a bit? Then the whole thing doesn't look quite so forced!?”
Sinkewitz's eyes lit up.
He signs an internship contract with them and sends it to me. Due to mail delivery times and the holidays, it was Pentecost, I only find out today, visit him on his first day of work and then report to the youth welfare office that he has to stay in his previous environment for the time being.
I laughed.
That's what I thought.
At that moment, there was a knock on the door and, without waiting for an answer, my mother was standing in the frame. “Son, our new intern has arrived and, before you ask, the coffee is already being made.”
When Matthias entered the room, I had to swallow first. His blond hair, almost shoulder-length, was combed into a center parting; the white shirt was probably two sizes too big for him, and he literally sank into it.
If it had been floor-length, he could have been described as a small, delicate angel. My mouth went dry as he gracefully approached me. He was barely a handspan shorter than me, but at almost six feet ten inches tall, almost everyone is shorter than me.
His hand, which he held out to greet me, was sweaty; he seemed excited but at the same time also shy.
Over coffee, we discussed the formalities and the man from the office then left, leaving me alone with the angelic creature.
“Tell me, how do you plan to get to us every morning?”
“Bus or bike?”
He brushed his hair out of his face.
“No driver's license and no car.”
“It's going to be difficult with the bus; we start at eight o'clock.”
Besides our company, there were only farmers in the area and the public transportation system in our rural area was not very well developed: the next bus stop was almost three kilometers away. I stood up.
“Come with me then, I'll show you where you'll be working up a sweat for the next few months. You won't need to go to a gym, the muscles will come from all by themselves.”
A hint of a smile flitted across his face.
“I didn't have any money for something like this before.”
We left my office and went through the garden center, which also belongs to our company. From there, we headed for the large outdoor area, then to the tree nursery and later to the greenhouses, finally ending the tour after more than an hour at the actual company yard.
I pointed to one of the buildings
“That's where the staff rooms are, and that's where we'll get you kitted out.”
We entered the small hallway and stopped in front of the time clock.
“Please clock in and out when you arrive and leave, and the hour's break each day will be deducted automatically. If you forget, just come and see me and we'll enter the time manually.”
He nodded assent.
“The women's changing room is on the right, so it's out of bounds for you; the men change here.”
I grinned at him as I opened the door.
“You can either change here or come to work in your work clothes, the choice is yours. However, you should have a complete set of clothes in your locker, as you may well need clean things at times.”
Which locker is free?
Matthias' voice sounded a bit subdued.
I went down the row.
“Here, 22 is not occupied.”
“That's my birthday.”
He smiled at me. I looked into his green eyes.
“The door on the right leads to the toilet, I don't need to explain how to use it, and on the left is the shower, but I won't give you any instructions for that either.”
He looked at me shyly.
“Do I have to shower here?”
That's up to you! You can if you want, but you don't have to. It's your decision. The only rule is that your locker must always be locked. Nothing's ever been taken from here, but...
I put my hand on his shoulder. ...just to avoid any trouble, it's better to lock the door. Follow me then.
From the changing room we went to the break room.
“The fridges are for everyone, but you should mark your things, so here's a pen. You can either bring your own drinks or help yourself to the crates there. Then just put a cross on the list, the bottle costs 50 cents, and you get the bill at the end of the month.” I pointed to the kitchenette.
“Unfortunately, we don't have a cafeteria here, so you have to take care of your own meals. Most people bring their own sandwiches, but the microwave and stove are there for everyone. Just one small request: please put the dishes in the dishwasher after use, leftovers don't go down well with colleagues. The coffee is free, just put the cups in the dishwasher after use.
? In the dishwasher?
For the first time he showed me his dimples. I couldn't help grinning too.
?You said it! Then we'll go to the warehouse, you need your work clothes. What size do you actually wear???
106 or 110, depending on how it turns out.?
He was being the shy angel again. The storeroom was the only room in the entire staff area that was always locked and only my mother and I had a key.
I opened the door, felt for the light switch, and entered the room full of shelves.
“Well, we don't have your size in stock, but it'll work just as well. Here, try this coat on.”
The green XL coat was quite loose, and he looked a bit unsure.
“Do we wear coats at work?”
Only if you work in the shop. You'll do whatever needs doing and wherever people are needed, so you might also work in the garden center.
I looked at him. In the shop, you can either work in your normal street clothes plus an apron, or you can put on your green stuff, it's up to you and your mood.
I turned back to the shelves and handed him a pack of ear defenders, then I grabbed a pair of earmuffs, also known as Mickey Mouse. As he held them in his hands, I looked in a box for a work helmet.
The intern's eyes grew wider and wider.
“What's that for?”
“From time to time it can get quite loud, for example when you are standing at the shredder or have to cut stones. The earplugs are usually sufficient, but if you want it quieter, you can use the earplugs and the headphones. Please put them on?”
“Will do.”
Matthias put the black thing on his ears and arranged his hair. “Like that?”
“Exactly, and now for the helmet.”
I put the hard polyethylene shell on his blond head; it wobbled quite a bit. A slight smell of sweat reached my nose. I took it off again and turned the adjusting screw. Once it was back on his angelic hair, I was satisfied with the result, and the safety gear was on tight around the top.
I grinned at him as I fiddled with his chin strap to adjust the helmet to his size. I touched his slender neck and his slightly flushed cheeks more often than was necessary.
He swallowed, his Adam's apple moving quite violently. When everything was in place, I smiled at him.
“You can take the pieces off now.” ”You may need to adjust the inside a little when you put the helmet on without ear protection, but you'll have to do that as needed.”
“When do I need a helmet?”
His pulse had still not calmed down.
“When felling trees, driving excavators, loading and unloading. Normally, it's more of a hindrance, but the insurance company and occupational safety require it.”
I turned to the work jackets.
“If you're wearing an undershirt, please take off your shirt.”
His T-shirt looked pretty washed out, the band around his neck was stretched out of shape. I handed him a top in size 50, it looked like it had been shot into, the sleeves much too short. With the items in size 56, the only other size available, it looked a bit better, but I still didn't really like it.
I put the order for work clothes on my to-do list.
Hello? Is someone in the warehouse?
A woman's voice broke the stifling silence in the chamber. I laughed.
Don't worry, dear Sylvia. I'm just fitting out our intern.
Then it's all right! I just wanted to smoke a cigarette.
A door was heard to open and then close again.
“Er, what exactly is the smoking policy here?”
He looked at the floor.
“Never in front of customers! If you work in the center, you shouldn't take a cigarette break when the shop is full.”
I laughed at him.
“Do you smoke?”
?Occasionally? when I can afford it.?
Shyness seemed to be his middle name.
I pointed to the door.
?Just like me, I'm an occasional smoker. Then let's take a break.?
In the break room, I introduced the intern to the floral specialist, who was sitting at the table with a half-full cup of coffee in front of her.
“So that's the new guy?“ the boss said, repeating what I'd already been told.
“I guess I am.”
He shyly held out his hand.
The woman in her mid-forties grinned.
“And where are you doing your internship?” “At a center or in landscaping?”
Matthias rolled his eyes, so I offered the answer for him.
He'll be spending more time with the guys out in nature, but he should get a taste of everything.”
“You want the whole nine yards again?”
The bespectacled woman stubbed out her cigarette and put her empty cup in the dishwasher.
“See you later, then!”
When we had finished our lung-bratwursts, we went back to the chamber, this time I closed the door as a precaution.
“What size shoes do you have?”
“44 or 45, depending on the brand. Do I need work shoes, too?”
He looked at me questioningly.
“I have a pair of Bundeswehr boots at home that I can wear.”
I had to grin.
“They'll do for starters, because we still have to order work shoes. But we still need rubber boots. Here, try these on!” ”It's a 46, but...”
He peeled out of his sneakers.
“The last time I wore these was as a child.”
“Here they are part of everyday life.”
I looked at his feet and noticed a big hole in his right sock.
“Besides, they're more appropriate for some jobs that require the use of a pressure washer than heavy work boots.” ”Here?”
I threw him a thick pair of gray cotton knee-highs, Bundeswehr brand.
“Please put them over your socks and jeans and then into the boots.”
He did as I asked, and then pulled on the boots with a slight groan.