Shock Guesel! (Turkish, Very nice!)
(A daily soap on the everyday work in a MAE * workshop on the outskirts of occupational safety and well below the minimum wage.)
* a job creation scheme
Labour Office, autumn, just before sunset, dense fog, an icy autumn storm whirls up old leaves.
The colourless agents of the Employment Agency sit strictly lined up in a forest of leaves, under white trees. The leaves that hang on the branches are forms on gray recycled paper, back, front, and to save space and money * even printed upon in the center.
The tapping of typewriters, the leaves bouncing in time with their monotonous sound.
Everything seemed very sleepy, despite the deceptively real activity.
Fat colourless agent is squashed behind a desk and picking his nose.
Sound: Knock on the door.
Asifa comes in with an elegant turban wrapped headscarf to enter into an upright position. She struggles through the fallen form-leaves to get to a very low stool in front of the excessively high desk.
Her journey to the desk is increasingly sluggish, her stance remains bent.
In this flexed position she looks up, up at the huge, fat agent.
Asifa friendly: Good day!
Asifa Natalia: I would like a ... 63.
Agent: Graduate degree?
Asifa: High School, ... confirmation ...
Asifa: for my inability to work… medicine ...
Asifa: one point zero ...
Agent: ... can you crochet
Asifa: um ...
Agent: Do embroidery?
Agent shakes his head disdainfully: sewing?
Agent: No !!
Asifas turban turns into a blood-soaked head bandage . Asifa remembers how she had to sew a hole in the head of a wounded boy in the Kurdish civil war.
Asifa: holes ...- Yes !!
Tree rustles vigorously with its leaves, bundles of papers fall from the branches and land on the desk with a bang. Dust swirls. The agent coughs.
Agent: well then we have something for you.
... a textile workshop in the middle east of the city. The additional cost is damaged. Therefore only 1 euro 50 per hour. Extra Income free.
"Plug for the specious public. E.V. "
6 hours, even without a break!
Sign here, you can write, right?
The agent grabs Asifas turban and stampes a number on her forehead and throws her into the drawer of an ancient, military green rusted flashcards shelf and pushes it closed.
Berlin 6:30 am, autumn
Asifa sits in the crowded subway, of the fashion capital Berlin's transport network. The working and therefore completely overtired population is
interlinked through mobile phones.An emaciated supermodel, long legged and yet unemployed ,blazes her way down the aisle. The heavy weight of a stack
of high-gloss magazines on the arm almost make her collapse:
"Good morning, my name is Claudia, Claudia Schiffer, I don’t want to bother, but I'm unemployed and homeless, I will sell my soul including the subscription to German Vogue for a healthy bare crisp bread.”
Behind her standing in a queue the gay mayor says: "Good day, I will soon be unemployed and do not want to annoy you ..."
Berlin, early morning, ice-cold
Abandoned road leads to a lonely backyard of a deserted industrial area.The wind is blowing crumpled, yellowed grey office paper around and guides Asifa to her new workplace. Glued on a hard Din A 4 paper with packing tape on the bare wall is written in shabby letters:
"Workshop of the plug for the specious public EV"
discolored sunlight struggles through the bruised blind of a greasy window and casts a shadow onto the tattooed brain of an alcohol-addicted ex-con and foster child with an immigration background.
At the same time in another place of the metropolis ....