I think that was the first time I truly realized I wasn’t in Kansas, or rather at Volkswagen, anymore. I’ve cashed in a giant, somewhat homogeneous corporation for a close-knit community of in-house managers and dedicated freelancers willing to take time out of their day to congratulate me on the new job, detail the services they provide, and point out Joy Division should be ranked much higher than Björk in my list (it shouldn’t). It’s a gratifying feeling.
It’s all about mimimi
Six months ago I was sitting deep in the bowels of das Werk in stygian Wolfsburg, staring down the barrel of another owner’s manual for a car I couldn’t drive because I have no licence, and I realised I was going to be 27 this year. Kerouac was 27 when he spewed On the Road forth from a typewriter. So was Jeff Buckley when he was gearing up to record Grace and put every other singer-songwriter to shame. That’s when the cold hands of Torschlusspanik grabbed me by the peak lapels of my VW-chic suit and shook me. I needed a change, a challenge, the opportunity to stamp my personality on something, somewhere, somehow. The first item on the agenda was to swap soporific Braunschweig for Berlin. So far, so good. The second was to find a job which offered the right balance of pressure, personal development and free business trips to Zurich. And, like magic, that’s when Supertext came flying into my inbox.
Coffee, bagels and a new laptop
So now I’m in a shared office at Dudenstrasse 10b surrounded by three lovely new co-workers (I am, as SuperBoss Andrea pointed out to me during our second meeting, the only cock in the box). There are coffee shops and cafés all around, it’s perma-sunny, and I’ve finally graduated from simple translator to manager (and translator). Plus there’s a dog in the office occasionally. I’m not sure what else I could want. The first four weeks have been a whirlwind of activity, and I hope it stays that way.
Cover picture: Photo via Supertext