The Self-Driver E-Book

Martin Coprax

• Herausgeber: novum pro Verlag
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 506

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

"Loneliness is just a word," she whispered almost inaudibly as she let go of my hand and lowered her head, but I heard it. Theo Baldauf lives in an assisted living facility in Vienna. He is 66 years old and was born with Down syndrome. He makes his day by making key chains in an assisted workshop. But his purpose is the subway. Equipped with a cap and loudspeaker (two toilet paper rolls), he is the actual stationmaster of the Längenfeldgasse station. Always in tow is his imaginary friend James Bond. Theo couldn't complain if it weren't for his Lisi ... "Der Selbstfahrer" describes the world from Mr. Baldauf's point of view. Funny incidents and whimsicalities meet sensitive passages to think about and think along. The theme music for the book was composed by the author and made available for you on youtube.

Leseprobe

Table of contents

Dedication

Foreword

Chapter 1 Of carrier pigeons and meat flies

Chapter 2 Thursday was care day

Chapter 3 Protocol of Love

Chapter 4 The Lord Priest and Why It Was So Important to Think Along

Chapter 5 Can we leave it like that?

Chapter 6 It would be because of the pants

Chapter 7 N. s. i. - No special incidents

Chapter 8 Something to show off

Chapter 9 Train 73

Chapter 10 State of emergency

Chapter 11 Because she just needed it

Chapter 12 The package from Switzerland and fish loaf even

Chapter 13 She was not there

Chapter 14 One chance or two praise

Chapter 15 Grey Veil

Chapter 16 Can we leave it like that 2?

Chapter 17 Spring in Vienna

Chapter 18 Who was Rosemarie Engelbrecht?

Chapter 19 Check-in Down Under

Chapter 19.1 "One to make her happy"

Chapter 19.2 Right here, right now!

Chapter 19.3 The Untold Story

Chapter 19.4 The big three

Chapter 19.5 The new guy

Chapter 20 Team meeting 30.5.2011

Chapter 21 The Pact

Chapter 22 Train departs!

Chapter 23 A “Käsekrainer” I asked you

Appendix Encyclopedia vulgaris

Dedication

In memory of Leo B., a remarkable person.

And for my friend Markus A., an equally remarkable person.

The musical pieces composed for the book, "Der Selbstfahrer - Titellied," "Theo's Thema," "Down Under," and "This feeling," referenced in the book, are available onYoutube,

Foreword

(Music:Der Selbstfahrer - Titellied, softly in the background)

Dear Reader!

It took me a long time to finally decide to tell you about myself and my life. Before that it was simply not possible for me, as you will learn in a moment. You've probably seen me if you ever got off the subway at the Längenfeldgasse station in Vienna Meidling around noon. I am the gentleman with the red self-driving cap, without whom the subway trains would not run and their doors would not close. And then you would have to walk! There you go, not nice either! Thinking along, please, it's already starting!

Actually,The Self-Drivershould have been a feature film. With real actors and locations in Vienna and Switzerland, with camera and film music like in a good Peter Alexander film. However, due to financial expenses that would have far exceeded the scope of what is feasible, you are invited to actively participate, to imagine locations, actors and film music (will be mentioned) yourself. Above all, however, I would like to encourage you to think along. It is up to you, of course, how you want to read this book, with or without imagination, music or thinking. You are welcome to do it like Georg Beranek. He doesn't care about anything, he does what he wants. You can talk as much as you like. Or maybe you do the same as Ms. Gerlinde and simply say that you are not there, although you are very much there. Or you do as I do, put a finger on the tip of your nose and switch on thinking. You'll see how that works in a moment.

On the last pages you will find the comprehensive reference book of common words and phrases of our house. Just in case. After all, you don't travel to a faraway country without knowing the most important words, and where you are only familiar with the customary swear words.

However you choose to read the book - if you read it at all - it's best to forget everything you think you know about invisible friends, and don't tell any of the stupidities listed to our residential director, Mr. Mayerling! Otherwise there will be another annoying agreement or a new IDP target.

I hope you enjoy reading this issue of Theo!

Please sign the preface by hand with "TEO" => in capital letters, childish looking, without H

1. of carrier pigeons and meat flies

A self-driver was someone who was believed by the supervisors of an assisted living community to be able to make his daily way to and from work on his own and without outside help. It was clear to everyone in charge that this was not the case. Assaults on other passengers, noisy mobbing in the means of transport, but mostly not arriving at all, and if they did, then much too late, were readily accepted by them and, under the pretext ofintegration, they demanded that the societyacceptvictims.Even the embezzlement of fare money, which was mostly spent on fast-food snacks baked in grease instead of tickets, was benignly overlooked by those on duty, because they were either too busy with their own problems, didn't feel like being where they were, or simply didn't care. I am such a self-driver, and my name is Theo. Theo Baldauf from Switzerland with his own driving license, red self-driving cap and an invisible friend.

Forget everything you've heard or even think you know about invisible friends, because they exist.

They are usually called Herbie, Bunny or just invisible friend. Mine was named James Bond and he lived with me in an assisted living unit, near Wienfluss in Wien Penzing on the border of the much classier Hietzing. "An assisted living facility?" you're probably asking yourself now. Yes, is Theo not quite clear in his head? He is very much so, but I gave up my mind a few years ago in order to be able to lead an assisted life without worries and, above all, without responsibility. I didn't lose him, but exchanged him for an invisible friend when I moved in WH 14. The choices at that time were James Bond, Hans Orsolics, Roy Black, a German shepherd or Chris Lohner. Of all of them, 007 was my favorite, and to this day I have never regretted my decision. I spent a considerable part of my working days at the Vienna Längenfeldgasse subway platform, where you could still find me at lunchtime until recently. "All aboard! Train's leaving!", I shouted through my two microphones provided by my dormitory. Some claimed it was just the cardboard rolls of two toilet paper rolls. There you see again how clueless some people are. Without James, I would have understood only half of what was being said on the platform. He explained to me the words I didn't know. You must know, I didn't grow up in Vienna, but in Switzerland. In beautiful Switzerland! That's why I didn't understand many words that were used in Vienna Meidling. James knew them all and always took the time to explain them to me. Sometimes even in Schwyzerdütsch. Then we both giggled and held our hands in front of our faces. His presence gave me courage and strength to carry out my daily task conscientiously and to everyone's satisfaction. I saw myself as a kind of subway coach. A therapist I could have been, a good listener I certainly was. I could have placed myself in Ottakring or Liesing, but I preferred the clientele of Längenfeldgasse. First of all, there were the students of the large vocational school and their head teachers, who always started their working day very loudly and usually already drunk. The students were just loud and smoked cigarettes, which they hid behind their backs to pass on to their classmates. Furthermore, you met people here whose language neither I nor James understood, people who were always in a hurry, beautiful women and women who pushed baby carriages in front of them, had stubble in their ears while staring at their phones, businessmen and women with small dogs. Some people were always here. They lived, slept, ate and got drunk here. Most ignored me, few greeted me. Mostly those who lived around here and who had known me for years. I remembered them and tried to greet them first the next time. That was one of my games. A so-calledmemory game to think along, a service of the Längenfeldgasse. Some of them I didn't see at all lately. Probably they had passed away or were on vacation in Switzerland, I didn't know either. Very unusual people lived in my apartment building, and there was always a community service worker who usually wore his hair long, was always late, and had to operate a washing machine for the first time in his life, a head caretaker who then stayed the night, and a caretaker who disappeared before the evening show on TV began. The experiences I had with James during the day were of no interest to anyone here. At first, I tried to tell the attendants stories that the gentleman with the thick winter coat from platform 2 told me, but I quickly realized that this led nowhere. Disappointed, at some point I got into the habit of only uttering sentences like "In there and out there again" or "Des waß I a net". Nobody expected much more from me here. Afterwards, I usually sat down in front of the TV set in our common room, tugged at my pants legs until they tore and the counselor had to buy me new ones, and made stupid comments about stupid TV shows.

Now, admittedly, I was no longer the youngest, but I was still in good health and felt that way, was cheerful and quite sociable, liked small children, cats, carrier pigeons, bees because of the honey thing, dogs, all other people, but especially songbirds and wolves. I did not like meat flies. Since moving into the Wien 14 dormitory, I felt noticeably better than before. I ate regularly again and slept at least six hours at a stretch. After waking up, I usually stayed in the warm bed, rolling from left to right and back again, playing with myself and thinking about the workshop manager, Ms. Ladstätter, whom I would see that day, until the completely overtired night duty officer entered my room in an unfriendly manner and yelled at me because I had once again peed in bed and on the floor. Standing up, mind you. I'll tell you this much. Standing up, and on purpose, because I didn't like the counselor, Speer Roman. He slept in the living room, 1st floor, right next to my room during each of his night services, even though there was a separate counselor's room on the first floor that was available to him. He was always in a bad mood, smoked two packs of cigarettes on one night shift, and polished off a 300 gram bar of Milka chocolate that was meant for everyone, all by himself. Very greedy and inconsiderate, Mr. Speer Roman! I used to hear him masturbating and moaning softly before he went to sleep. His bad mood, which stemmed from his dissatisfaction with himself and his self-centered life, he unabashedly took out on his girlfriend and colleague, Sabine Krämer, his other colleagues, or on us residents. Often with nasty swear words even, which I would like to spare you. I didn't like him, would have loved to pee in his face when he was still asleep and then quickly disappeared into my room, but I didn't dare do that at the time.

I tried to make an embarrassed impression when he had to freshly cover my bed and mop the floor before I got dressed, put on my red cap, stuffed two toilet paper rolls into my worn briefcase, and left the house with James. 1:0 for me, Mr. Speer!

2. Thursday was care day

Like every day, I rode three stations in the almost empty subway to Längenfeldgasse. When the cars were so full that someone always bumped into me, I let the subway go and waited for the next one. Sometimes this took the whole morning. Fortunately for me, today was not so busy. Arriving at the Längenfeldgasse platform, I immediately moved into my workplace, as I called the place between the two columns next to a steel subway bench where I put my briefcase. Right there, where the trash cans were. As I was about to put my cardboard rolls to use, a middle-aged man approached James and me. He reminded me of Roland, one of my roommates, only he was much better groomed and much better dressed. A real gentleman and better at everything compared to Roland. You must know, in our shared apartment, every Thursday was grooming day, but some residents did not adhere to this rule. They didn't stick to what had been agreed and could be demanded. They cheekily made their own plans instead of sticking to their individual development and support concepts. Actually, everyone had to shower, wash their hair and cut their fingernails on Thursdays. Always on Thursdays, because that's when Ms. Maria, the pedicurist, came to cut our toenails. And when you came out of the bathtub and sat down with Ms. Maria, it was done right away in one wash-up, as our residence director, Mr. Johannes Mayerling, had once taught us. Like when the cows were slaughtered in St. Marx. One after the other and nobody got away. Well thought out, Mr. Mayerling! He was one of the few people who took a great interest in ensuring that we were always washed clean and made a well-groomed impression. The residents were the calling cards of our house, and he had to answer for it, he explained during many a conversation with one of his colleagues. At the latest during the annual dental checkup, he realized that his colleagues were not as meticulous about his concept of cleanliness as he was. Not to mention the residents themselves. His wife Gerlinde, on the other hand, was always clean and always smelled of fresh violets. Just like Empress Sissi once did. She took the nursing day just as seriously as I did. She smelled much better and seemed to me much more well-groomed than the Speer Roman. He could have had a grooming day, too, the way he sometimes smelled. Every Thursday, when Ms. Gerlinde came home from her workshop, she ran through the dormitory shouting, "Thursday is grooming day!" And she would do this until the pedicurist took her place and waited for the first foot. The two got along great and sometimes they even chatted. Ms. Maria then very quickly packed her scissors and scrapers, her rasps and peelers, her nippers and cutters into her big bag and headed home. I'm sure she didn't want to miss the show either, or just get the hell out of there. Miss Gerlinde and I were something of a couple. Like husband and wife you often see on the street, but not like you think now. No, no, there was no kissing! We liked to dance the Danube Waltz on New Year's Eve and had a penchant for desserts, pastries, desserts and cakes of every kind. Ms. Gerlinde was also a self-driver. That connected us. And what do you think Beranek Georg did every Thursday? Exactly! He shirked foot care until the Mayerling got him out of his room, where he preferred to hide under his blanket, he then had to be the last one at foot care and missed the beginning of the TV show. One show was all that was on TV at 20:15 on ORF 2. And anyone who wanted to get a seat on the sofa in front of the TV set after the show started was usually out of luck and had to watch the Heimatmusik standing up. Always came too late, learned nothing. Your problem, Beranek! And you were also scolded. You brought it on yourself, dear Georg! Your game of hide and seek had paid off once again. Bad luck, Mr. Forcher! Once again you had to start without Mr. Beranek. That was just fine with me. After a hard day's work and the subsequent body care, I could well do without his nervous hopping around anyway and listen to the Hermagor Singverein in peace.

Fortunately, Mayerling was on night duty today and not Roman! There wasn't such a mess, and there was also something good to eat. Mayerling was the highest of the supervisors. He was the boss of everything, was responsible for everything, was always rebuilding something, knew as much about the piping of the house as he did about metro shopping and ten-blade screwdrivers. He oversaw the rules that were set up and was always demanding something, as he used to say. Most of the rules we had to abide by here were quite acceptable. Only a few, such askitchen duty,I thought were excessive and did not follow them. Not because none of our residents adhered to that rule, rather I didn't see why I should clean the kitchen myself in an assisted living community. After all, in a good restaurant, you don't wash your own dishes when you're done eating. And please don't say now, "You can't compare a residential home to a good restaurant." I would have to answer you, "You don't know how right you are." Not even with any restaurant. To be honest, the cuisine in our shared apartment could not be compared to anything even remotely related to food in the true sense of the word. Perhaps there were regions in undiscovered South Asia where cooking was similar to that in our dormitory, my pity would go to the people living there. Especially when Roman Speer was on duty. For a long time I had no idea what I was choking down when he cooked. It tasted like nothing with a particularly nauseating aftertaste. I once deliberately put some of the stuff on my shirt and then put it on the next day in the workshop to find out what kind of disgusting stuff it was. The Ladstätter was the first to discover me. "Hello, Theo! How do you look? Did you have letcho again yesterday?" Letcho! So that's what the filthy stuff was called. This gruel prepared with Roman's cooking skills was tantamount to a gustatory desecration. Never before had the culinary arts been confronted with such an Armageddon and so mercilessly trampled underfoot. A mockery of every single taste bud, an almost unconquerable challenge for the human stomach. For every stomach. Every Thai, every Chinese, every Russian and every obese American who had eaten more inedible and indigestible food in his life than a water buffalo, every Inuit would have run away. I would rather have eaten whatever blindfolded on any test of courage than this devilish stuff again. I was sure animals would have kept their distance from Roman's booze too, including sows. What on earth could you do wrong when thawing a frozen vegetable bar, you whistle? A bit of water in the pot, low heat, letcho in, lid on and eat half an hour later. Roman dispensed with the water, turned the stove to level twelve, threw the frozen block of letcho into the saucepan, and then went out to the patio to smoke. When the stench of burnt tomatoes and charred peppers reached the attic, Roland usually came down the stairs, stroked his beard sheepishly and told Roman that he was suffocating up there, that he could no longer see his hand in front of his eyes, that he was having a hard time breathing and whether Roman could perhaps take the letcho off the stove. If he couldn't do that himself, if he could see it anyway, Roland got the answer and then heard how Roman unabashedly said: "He is still so dependent. I don't know if he should get a training kitchen so soon." Roland then took the red-hot pot from the stove and regularly burned his fingers.

Roland was a particularly decent and lovable roommate. Not like Georg Beranek or Walter. He always kept to the rules. That pleased Mayerling, because he was particularly fond of him. A super guy, Roland! I could tell you exactly who broke the rules most often and didn't stick to any agreement at all, and who these rule-breakers were, but I won't. I'm not going to tell on anyone. But just so much, it was always the same ones.

Their names were Walter, Rainer and Georg Beranek. Always the same with them. I could tell you things about them. They were three rascals. They always did what they shouldn't, and what they should, they didn't do. Georg Beranek was the worst of all. What do you think he did? Coffee, coffee, coffee! The guy had nothing else on his mind. From morning till night he drank strong coffee, which was not good for him. Not at all. Made him all jittery, the stuff. And then he got on everybody's nerves. This went on until he overdid it and someone cried or, as we said,twitched out. And care day was a foreign word for Mr. Beranek anyway.

This man on the platform, on the other hand, surely showered every day. He was also shaved. He looked at me, then smiled, and I did the same.

"You're always there, aren't you?" the gentleman wanted to know from me in an alcohol-soaked voice.

"Jo, jo," I answered him politely, pronouncing the second "jo" in a higher pitch than the first. That's how you do it in Switzerland. In beautiful Switzerland! I winked at James.

"I see you every day standing there shouting through your toilet paper rolls 'Attention, attention! Train is leaving!' You san funny!"

"Jo," I answered him briefly and smiled. Some of my significant others claimed I had a smile that reminded them of Stan Laurel's. Should be fine with me.

"You know ..." he continued, inebriated, as he took a seat on a bench next to me.

He opened his black briefcase, took out a bottle of liquor and took a hearty swig.

"Do you know, kind sir, what the greatest lie of mankind is?" He stared at the billboard opposite, and it seemed as if he were lost in thought. "Love, dear sir, and believe me, I must know. As a divorce lawyer, I quickly won myself a house with a garden in the Fourteenth, aPorsche Carrera,and a motorboat for my Croatia island cruises. Debt-free, mind you."

I looked at him questioningly.

"Debt-free means he owns it, he didn't have to borrow money from anyone to finance it all," James explained to me, sitting unnoticed next to the gentleman on the subway bench.

"Everyone thinks it is the most desirable goal in life. Shall I tell you something? By the ass, Mr. Karl! An economic factor and many other things she is, but certainly not the most desirable goal in life. And next weekmymarriage will be divorced. I work too much, she says. And she and the kids were the only reason why I worked so much..."

He kept talking at me until after noon, and when he finished his bottle, he fell asleep on the bench. "Poor, sad man," I whispered to James. "Come on, Theo," he said, smiling gently. "Let's go home." "Aren't we going to help the nice gentleman?", I wanted to know from my friend in wonder. "When it comes to love, you can't help anyone, my friend. Everyone has to deal with that on their own." I looked him in the eye and knew he was serious.

We didn't talk much as we made our way home. Only that it had become late once again and he wanted to talk to me about something.

3. protocol of love

"Let me tell you something about love, my friend," James began as he joined me at my bedside. I was about to say goodnight to the moon that was shining into my room. "Isn't love the most beautiful thing in the world?", I thought I knew. 007 smirked and sipped his martini, which he shook every night. "I noticed how much you were taken by that nice man's story today," he said. "He seemed so helpless and weak, even though he was so well-groomed and handsome," I replied. "Broken iswhat you call it, Theo. He was broken. Only love can do that. It can make you the strongest person who ever lived on earth, or the most pitiful creature the world has ever seen," he continued.

"She is the eternal enigma. Energizer, savior from the dark valley of loneliness, everything light and carefree, free of worry and fear, an indescribable feeling. A life-changing influence, a river in which some bathe comfortably, others helplessly drown, and still others don't go in at all, for fear of the consequences, or because they can't swim. At the beginning it always fits. Yay! Finally you have found someone who likes you just the way you are, and the sky is full of violins. Everyone is happy, rejoicing, talking loudly, red cheeks and there is cake and sandwiches, white doves flying around, rice too, smiling faces and the relatives come to visit and dance. The future is planned, a new home is searched for, Saturday afternoons are spent in furniture stores, mostly in the kitchen department, there also first disagreements because of an ice cream maker, which you would like to have, she doesn't, but immediately everything is good again, then just not, a quick kiss. Your friends get to know each other, New Year's Eve together and a week in the summer couple vacation - so nice!

Mostly, however, there is something quite different behind the eternal vow of love, such as, lost the dog as a child (ran away, did not come back - goodbye, dog!) and never got over it, rediscovered motherly love, least common evil, sex, which after years of getting to know each other also only equals an annoying, wet minor matter, due to drives, cravings and preferences (these include, among others. disguises, very popular the letter carrier, the plumber, the doctor, the whore, the high school teacher, the housekeeper, role-playing, hurting each other or latex bondage swings, with educated classes often Indian and oriental influences), but is nevertheless carried out. As a rule, the more educated the lovers, the more distant the country whose sex practices are used. Financial advantages, not being alone/not being able to cook, having arrived or an unfulfilled desire to have children, which she has had since the age of two, when she was given the doll for Christmas at that time.

But no one sees the dark side of love! No one warns you of the dangers that come with it. For example, every cigarette package now warns of the effects of nicotine consumption, but no one asks why the addict started smoking in the first place. It probably happened that he smoked his first cigarette before the upcoming first date to calm his nerves, until finally the cigarette was the only thing he could hold on to after years of love. The famous cigarette after. 'Love increases the risk of strokes. Don't even start!', should be written on the packs.

In the case of drugs and alcohol, the packaging is usually missing, so there is no deterrent image, but the addicts would probably never have had the idea of ever touching the stuff that is slowly killing them today, if it weren't for lovesickness. Traffic accidents because the driver still wanted to quickly write a love text message to his beloved ... wanted. Murders out of jealousy, vindictiveness or whatever addiction that would never have happened without love. It usually strikes when you're not expecting it, like one of the scoundrels I've always had to take out. Sneaks up on you cowardly from behind and tenderly caresses your neck before she grabs and you can't fight back. Usually it only catches one of them and you don't notice anything at first." "Nothing?", I inquired with my mouth open. "Nothing at all, as Ms. Dvorsky would say," 007 replied. "It's only when it's too late and you're floundering helplessly like a carp on the shore of the idyllic lake that you realize there's no point in resisting anymore and you're helplessly at its mercy. Just like after the bite of a Komodo dragon. The only difference is that it eats you up afterwards, when you are lying down with blood poisoning, can hardly breathe and there is only a spark of life left in you. Love eats you up untilyou areonly the spark of life.

In earlier times, it used great wars, which cost hundreds of thousands of innocent people their lives (see also J. Caesar vs. Cleopatra, Trojan War, Indians, div. native tribes on Papua New Guinea or gang wars such as the one in the Westside Story), until not an army won over the love-intoxicated generals, but the mind.

No. Love works differently today, more refined, more differentiated, more purposeful.

Heart attacks that are based on a broken heart that you got once and now have to carry around for the rest of your life, cancerous ulcers due to untreated inflammation in the gastrointestinal tract or elsewhere that you wouldn't have in the first place without the side effects of love. Not to mention the memories that rip open old wounds over and over again, bleed again, hurt. Like that one song, for example. The one song that still moves you to tears. The one song! Still, after all these many, many years. And although ... 'everything is going well now anyway' and 'everything fits again anyway', it still triggers a feeling of security and invincibility in you, still makes you fall silent and become so completely different, still ... madness! ... Bang! ... rear-end collision! ... Base of the skull fracture, immediately dead. And thelong and winding road isplaying on the radio.

Venereal diseases and suicides from which one would have been spared without love. This also includes suicides that happen out of misunderstood and misguided love for God, ranging from the dispersal of a self in crowded places to airplane landings in inhabited towers.

Love is not beautiful. It hurts, blinds and makes us weak. It makes us not eat, not sleep and not think clearly. It makes us liars. Nothing witheternal mysteryorstronger than death. Nothing withtill death do you part, the blue-eyed lovers already do that themselves and sooner, much sooner than they like and can imagine.

A few misdirected endorphins that keep fooling us into a false reality, similar to a drug rush, that's love. As long as it takes to come to terms with what you have. Better than being alone, better than having to search again or cook for yourself, not to mention the joint bank account, the credit, the car, the dog and the kids. There I praise myself theperfectly normalfriendship withoutreaching out(cf.The reach out – pubescent pleasure or means to reduce inner conflicts).

One sangAll you need is love along time ago, andLove of my lifeanother. Both dead. So is this Romeo."

"But why should I be a good person then, if not because of love?", I wanted to know from my friend in astonishment. "Being a good person is completely overrated," he replied, looking thoughtfully out the window.

"Doing good is not fun," he continued. "It may fulfill your life or increase your self-worth. Good people rarely have fun. Robbing a bank holds a certain amount of excitement, entertainment and the possibility of wealth from the outset, with which, yes, you can do good later on. Invest in stocks or park it in a foundation and then send the profits to starving children. Still better than leaving the money to the well-insured banks, which only speculate it away at the expense of the customers anyway and pay their managers excessive commissions. Even the theft of an upper middle class car pleases the human mind more than operating cleft palates in Kenya. How satisfying it must be to rob banks, the proceeds of which go to the cleft palate surgeon in Kenya.

Doing good, completely selflessly, dreamily and, if possible, with a smile on your face costs time, money and a lot of energy. Strength that you then lack elsewhere. So why do you feel such a need to be recognized as a good person? Because of the longing for love, my dear Theo. You strive for recognition, security and self-affirmation. Plausible reasons throughout, even if purely egoistic. 'That's a great person' one is supposed to say about you, or 'But you have a big heart, Mr. Theo'. And then you rejoice and feel good."

"Well, well," I nodded. "Are we going to rob a bank now?"

"We'll talk about that another time," James replied.

"And now close your eyes and go to sleep. Tomorrow is Friday and there you will meet the priest again. Good night, my friend!"

We smiled at each other one more time before my eyes fell closed and I fell asleep. We've always done it that way.

4. the Mr. priest and why it was so important to think along

There he came already. The priest. He looked good. He was bald and had a thick goatee in the middle of his face, but it suited him well and made him superior to us sinners. Judging from his accent, he came from a Baltic country or Poland. Most of the pastors I knew were from Poland. Either the Poles were so devout, or they loved to travel to other countries for their lives to tell about God. Everything that had to do with the church filled me with great awe. Because the one up there sees everything. Everything! You know what that means. Even the stupid things. And I had really done enough of that in my life. That's why I was especially friendly to church employees. Whether convent sisters or pastors, even to the beautifully dressed men and women with the colorful Bible booklets, who always asked: "Do you know the Holy Scriptures?" I greeted them all especially politely when they met me. You never knew. When the Pope appeared on television, I would get up from my wing chair and fold my hands thoughtfully. He was the highest of all the priests and of all the convent sisters and of everyone in general. He was allowed to ride in a beautiful, white, bulletproof car and spoke very important words in front of very many people. Mostly in Latin with a Polish accent.

The priest did not have such a direct line to God as the Pope, but also because he prayed all day. I only ever saw him on Fridays. "Greetings!" I bowed. "Greetings!" he replied, and walked silently past me. Such a nice man! He reminded me of the priest from the little Swiss town where I grew up. You know, I had a hard time remembering things and stuff from my childhood. Almost everything gone. Often I wished for nothing more than to be able to remember more. That made me very sad then, and it showed. Sometimes I saw things on television that reminded me of the past. Of the time in Switzerland. The ... beautiful ... Switzerland. And then I was suddenly very young again, playing Winnetou in the hayloft, being served from front to back by Hedi and Aunt Gerti, and it smelled like freshly baked doughnuts. The dishes were prepared with real lard and to eat there was ... Do you know the Swiss cuisine? All I can say is zogglä, capuns, meitschibei. Shall I tell you more? There you go! I can't even think about it. "Eat, my Theo, eat! There's enough," Hedi always said, and I followed. That's where my excess weight came from.

I remembered the priest from the little village (please don't ask me for his name) very well. And of the Sunday church visits with my foster mother, Hedi. Every time we had to walk for over an hour to the nearest village. No matter what the weather. Summer and winter. Often we were completely soaked when we finally arrived at the church, but Hedi and her sister, Gerti, didn't seem to mind. It was almost as if they enjoyed attending the service, freezing and shivering from the cold. As if it would all seem better if one felt uncomfortable. A bit like ... him.

The Mister priest always stood at the very front on a small stool so that the few people present could better understand and, above all, see him. "Derherrseimiteuch!" - "And with your spirit!" echoed through the church. I usually stood at the back on the left, because one could comfortably lean against the confessional there. You just had to be careful not to knock it over, because it was more like a screen than a confessional. Four wooden boards nailed together, with a partition and a wooden grille, so that the priest, when hearing confessions, could not see the sinner so well and could decide more objectively on his sentence. Otherwise he would have beenbiasedlike a judge and could have said, for example: "I'm sorry, Eva Adamski (I don't know any Eva Adamski, just as an example, and because the name fits so well into the church). I have recognized you and don't want to know anything about your adulteries and nastiness, because tomorrow I have to help your husband, Adam (also freely invented), to stab the sow. And I may not be able to keep my mouth shut. Bias!" The priest could have said that. And if the poor woman had now blessed the temporal, she would have stepped as a nasty adulteress before the creator, and I do not wish that even to George, the Beranek. Eternal damnation, hellfire, it's hot there even at night, I couldn't stand that at all. Bad food, probably the novel cooks and there is Letscho every day. Problems, nothing but problems.

Although everyone knew who was who anyway, and what, who, when, where had done. Due to the construction, you could also hear every word through the thin wooden walls. So one could have safely burned the confessional and shouted the outrages to the priest after communion. It would have remained the same. When he then said: "Now shake hands as a sign of peace," I knew that it would soon be over. That was my favorite part of the whole Mass. The friendly greeting. With a handshake. And the saying "Peace be with you". How beautiful that sounded.

Once the priest came to our farm to bless a cow. I was woken up very early that day by Aunt Gerti, thoroughly bathed, beautifully coiffed and given my first pair of traditional leather pants. What is a traditional costume, you know? Do you know! Good!

In Switzerland, a traditional costume was something special. You only wore it for special celebrations. And then you got drunk, danced and yodeled and made music with two chords. Everything in the traditional costume. We also received the priest and his entourage in traditional costume. Just as he opened the gate, the cow ran past me and I gave her a pat on the butt. Stupid things, as I said. The cow didn't care, only the priest saw everything. Almost like that one up there. "Theo! Come to me once, my dear Theo," he said in a gentle voice. I followed obediently. "Why did you hit the cow? Do you think the cow doesn't feel it?" I knew the answer, but just looked at him guiltily and didn't say a word. I had already lost anyway, didn't care about anything anyway. "Don't hurt anyone, Theo. Not a person, not an animal."

"But it was just a little slap, Father," I remarked meekly. "If the cow had broken out now and hurt someone, how strong would your little slap have been?" He looked me in the eye. There was something gentle, something protective, something strong in his gaze. "Always thinking Theo, always thinking!" he pinched my little nose very gently with his thick, soft fingers before turning to the cow, thanking God for the cow, thanking God on behalf of the cow, and finally blessing it. I thought at the time that if you pinch the tip of your nose very gently, you turn on thinking with yourself. And because no one could ever prove me wrong, I still do to this day.

Two months later the cow was sold, slaughtered and eaten.

Sothinking along, that's what life was all about. If one thinks along, one thinks while one acts. So you don't act carelessly, not negligently, because you are fully involved, and you get everything to the fullest. With all senses. One saves thereby thebefore-thinkingand, much more importantly, thereflecting,because one is in the now and sets immediately the hopefully correct action. Thinking along! Thank you, Father, to this day I am grateful to you for this teaching. It has accompanied me throughout my life and I have meanwhile trained thinking along so well that I have simply discarded many of my plans, so that without them I am no longer under any pressure to succeed, let alone run the risk of failing at anything.

Reflecting is the very worst thing. Forget it. I have tried it. Completely pointless, useless. "Nothing at all," as my friend, Miss Gerlinde, would say. Made only sad and one could change it anyway no more. And if, then only by thinking along.

I wonder if the priest knew the priest from my little Swiss village?

5 Can we leave it like that? (Theater version: Reclam edition)

Performers:

Johannes Mayerling(residence manager): 48 y.; wears a black and red plaid lumberjack flannel shirt and dark blue jeans; curly, medium-length hair; Styrian/Südburgenland accent, deep smoker's voice; has learned to appear confident; he is learning to appear friendly.

Sabine Krämer(deputy director): 44 y.; wears an ankle-length white fabric dress with intricate embroidery and wide-cut neckline that shows off her large breasts well; long black hair; many bangles, necklaces, and painted fingernails; soft-spoken and thoughtful, opportunistic; fan of India and esotericism; Roman's partner in life.

Roman Speer: 38 y.; wears a worn-out undershirt, black-and-white-striped, skin-tight cloth pants; bald; very quick-tempered with an aggressive, often also cynical undertone, loud, lapses into the Viennese dialectic in emotional situations; gets into emotional situations very often; negative charisma and attitude to life.

Mathias Schalk: 28 yrs; wears a Rolling Stones T-shirt, ripped jeans; long hair tied back in a braid; from community service to counselor because it was convenient not to have to change employers; works very unprofessionally and will not hold the job for more than five years; stands out by making inappropriate interjections for the purpose of general amusement; is visibly uncomfortable; perhaps sixth best friend of Thomas, but no friend of supervision and marriage counseling.

Thomas Kriegler(Theo's reference counselor): 32 y.; wears a white shirt, black trousers; very well-groomed and good-looking; short black curls, blue eyes; seems to use expensive perfume; black briefcase; Vorarlberg accent; starts his sentences only when he has taken a deep breath with closed eyes and then usually with "Yes ..."; philosophical background; up for any fun;Queen fanthrough and through; very gentle and competent charisma; empathetic when speaking, good listener; uses his accent purposefully to be able to repeat the sentence in High German; also regularly attracts attention with inappropriate interjections for the purpose of general amusement.

Elke Kersch: 36 y.; wears a gray T-shirt, light blue jeans; short, unkempt hair, short fingernails; very inconspicuous; Mayerling's partner; prefers to let her boyfriend speak for her; likes to read books that deal with relationship problems; is always looking for a reason to be in a bad mood and always finds one; father complex; wishes for a child from Mayerling; has been searching for the meaning of life for a long time, especially for the meaning of her life.

Erwin Wolf(supervisor); 52 y.; wears a light blue shirt, gray jacket, jeans; black, worn vintage briefcase; fashionable designer glasses; short, well-groomed, mottled gray hair; friendly appearance; very experienced; professional, very authentic-looking smile; a complete professional in what he does; enjoys an excellent reputation; very educated; speaks calmly, always level-headed and uses the classic phrases invented by psychologists, without which neither profession can do; fulfills the cliché of thebobo from the 7th district. Viennese district.

Werner Rumpel(house and maintenance technician of the apartment building): 56 y.; wears a worn-out dark blue T-shirt with the washed-out inscriptionDetroit University, baggy, washed-out jeans worn below midriff, black horn-rimmed glasses with strong lenses; disheveled, unkempt hair; generally appears unkempt and residually alcoholized; speaks exclusively in Viennese dialect; self-confident, loud appearance; visibly finds little to like about his work and his orders, works imprecisely and is always in a bad mood; usually completes work unsatisfactorily, which is why Mr. Mayerling does most of the repair work himself; is already looking forward to his retirement.

Scenery:

A large, comfortably furnished living/common room with herringbone parquet flooring that creaks in places because it needs to be relined, a mid-range TV set, two large houseplants (yucca palms), a bookshelf, a CD rack with CD player and about 20 CDs of folk music (the Paldauer, the Herzbuam, Zillertaler Schürzenjäger). Next to it is a flipchart on which someone has written AUTO. In the middle of the room is a large coffee table, around it are three too large sofas. A worn wing chair stands a little apart, on this a child doll lies. The caregivers are seated in the order previously indicated, from left to right, two staff members on each sofa. Thomas and Elke sit closer together, because they are keeping the place free for the supervisor, who has to come at any moment and for whom the participants are already waiting slightly tensely.

In the next room, which takes up one fifth of the stage and is seen from the front by the audience, Theo sits dressed on his bed and listens intently to the events in the living room. A box, a desk on which stands a small picture and an armchair. The light shining through the connecting door and the two windows illuminates the room. Every now and then, Theo raises his right hand and points his thumb in the direction of the living room, and it seems as if he is talking to someone as he does so.

Act 1

Mayerling(turning to Thomas): "Theo is at home today?"

Thomas(after a moment's thought): "Yes. We'll go shopping for pants after supervision. He doesn't have any more."

Roman: "Well, because he tears them all apart. He sits in his armchair every evening and pulls at his trouser legs. It's no wonder they always break right away."

Mayerling(amused): "I don't know why he does that either. Maybe for the legroom. Does he still have a budget?"

Thomas(thinks again briefly, then very determinedly): "Yes, yes! Theo has enough capital, he can tear as many pants as he wants."

Mayerling: "How are his values looking? Have you gotten anything there yet?"

Thomas: "No, not yet. I'm sure it'll take a while. Just like last time."

Mayerling: "Please let me know then, right! Then I can send this to the Ruckenberger."

Thomas: "I will. Everything will be all right."

Mayerling: "But yes. Well have fun shopping! He doesn't like dressing and undressing at all."

Thomas(smiling): "We'll do that. And afterwards we go to the innkeeper and eat Wiener schnitzel with potato salad and drink a Coke with it. And for dessert he gets his Malakofftorte and a good coffee ... then ... (thinks briefly, nods and continues smiling) ... then that's fine."

(Theo straightens up sitting on his bed and sticks up his right index finger. The doorbell rings.)

Mayerling: "There he is!"

(He stands up and leaves the room briefly to press the door opener).

Mathias: "I'm going to go have a quick smoke and get a coffee."

Thomas: "It doesn't pay off anymore. Would you like to come with Theo and me later to buy pants? Afterwards a schnitzel, something good, too."

Mathias: "I can't today, I've got band practice. I'll be glad when I get home."

Thomas: "I see."

Sabine: "I. But if it's okay, I'd go at eight already. If you don't mind."

Elke: "No problem, John will stay there anyway, because we'll be having a barbecue. So you could come earlier ..."

(Performance by Mr. Wolf.)

Mr. Wolf: "Good morning, I would like to start by apologizing for my tardiness. My daughter imagined she didn't have to go to school today."

(He smiles, lost in thought. Everyone smiles in understanding.)

Mr. Wolf(to Elke, next to whom he takes a seat and puts his briefcase on the coffee table to open it): "I'll take a seat right there, then, if I may. Greetings!"

(Quiet murmuring of the participants, which becomes quieter and quieter and finally falls silent).

Mr. Wolf: "So ... then I welcome you all very warmly to our ... regular meeting."

(He smiles and nods his head to everyone in the circle. Everyone smiles back.)

Mr. Wolf: "... and would suggest we get started right away." (He takes a thick file folder out of his suitcase, leafs through it and finally says):

"May I invite you all to pick up where we left off last time, or is there something current? ... Not? All right, we ... have ... stopped at the conflict resolution strategies we worked on together ... Yes ... Mr. Roman?"

(He looks at Roman, who has drawn attention to himself by raising his hand).

Roman: "Actually, I already have something current there."

(All notice and look at Roman).

Mr. Wolf: "Yes, please. Maybe ... just start."

(He smiles at Roman.)

Roman: "Well, how can I say ..."

(Roman shifts restlessly up and down on the sofa, straightens up, then lets himself fall backwards).

Roman: "It's general ..."

Mr. Wolf: "What exactly do you mean?"

Roman(irritated): "Well, that's what I have a hard time saying!"

Mr. Wolf: "Take your time!"

Roman: "I'm kind of going nice and slow there ... on the ... it bothers me a lot."

Mr. Wolf: "Can you flesh that out a little bit? You might want to write it down."

Roman: "No, I don't want to write anything down, it's just general ..."

Mr. Wolf(addressing the participants): "Do we want to go into what the novel said together? Because I already sense a certain annoyance on your part, and it would be my responsibility to take a closer look."

Mayerling: "Just say what bothers you. It's the easiest."

Roman: "That, for example! That you always say what the others have to do. And in a tone ..."

Mr. Wolf: "Maybe we can be careful not to use words likeyouandalways, as wedecided together."

Mayerling: "After all, I'mincharge, and I don't feel like I'm asking too much of you."

Roman: "More and more, I feel like we've become taken for granted, and everything we do well, you don't see. Only the bad."

Mr. Wolf: "I'll just have to put up a stop sign there for a minute."

(He takes a small plastic stop sign [Matchbox accessory] from his briefcase and places it on the table).

Mr. Wolf: "I'm just pointing out again that even if we're having lively discussions, we want to leave out words likeyouandalways.No you messages please, as agreed."

Mayerling(to Roman): "Well, I don't see it that way, Roman."

Elke(Mayerling agreeing): "Me neither."

Sabine: "After all, you are his girlfriend."

Elke: "I would say that, too, if I weren't John's girlfriend."

Sabine: "Go on, Elke, be honest ..."

Elke: "I really don't feel that way, I don't know."

Mr. Wolf: "Mr. Roman, what triggers this feeling you just described in you?"

Roman(annoyed): "Trouble."

Mr. Wolf: "Maybe you want to dig deeper into yourself?"

Roman: "Yes, anger and rage. The way my father used to put me down."

Mr. Wolf: "Very exciting."

Mayerling(to Roman): "Do I remind you of your father?"

Roman(still annoyed): "Yes, actually. Also the way you're dressed, and the way you talk."

Thomas: "Take off your shirt, Johannes ..."

(Laughs. Mathias, Elke and the Mayerling laugh, too.)

Mayerling(embarrassed): "So please, let's stay serious."

Mr. Wolf: "What goes on in your mind when you hear something like that, Mr. Johannes?"

Mayerling: "Malaise."

Mr. Wolf: "It's a big responsibility, being a father,isn't it?"

Mayerling: "One too many. I'm the residential director, but the father role, no thanks, really not!"

(Loud clatter caused by carrying an aluminum ladder that is knocked ungently against both the wall and the stair railing in the stairwell).

Roman: "Who is that?"

Mayerling: "That's Rumpel. What is he doing there already? We agreed on 11:00.

Never mind, it'll be quick anyway."

Mathias: "Jö, der Mister Rumpel!"

Thomas(laughing): "The Rumple, yeaholl!"

(Enter Mr. Rumpel.)

Mr. Rumpel: "A nice one! I happened to be in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop by and do it quickly." (He adjusts his glasses.) "I still need the measurements."

Mayerling: "Mr. Rumpel, we have supervision now ... I'll give you the measurements quickly, and then you'd best come back towards the end of the week."

Mr. Rumpel: "Go ahead! I'm not supposed to work today anyway ... my back. I just got out of the ninth. What should I tell you ..." (He leans the ladder against the wall, groaning.) "My back."

Mayerling: "So we need a two-meter-and-three-quarter-inch pipe for the transfer ... then you still have to lift it, and for upstairs," (he points to the upper floor), "the clamps for the one-and-a-half-inch pipe for Roland's room. Four meters by three meters. That'll work out just fine."

Mr. Rumpel: "Didn't you say we were laying the one and a half inch pipe on the first floor?"

Mayerling: "We just hammer the clamps on down there, tighten it properly, and then it holds. We don't lay anything new."

Mr. Rumpel(pulling his jeans up a bit): "Very well. Four meters by three meters. I'll remember that. Will that work? How is it screwed on?"

Mayerling: "Back then, they simply screwed it into the streetcar with twelve screws. No commission agent is allowed to see that. I do it with clamps and fourteen screws."

Mayerling (turns to the discussion group): "Youscrewed it on with twelve screws!" He taps his forehead and laughs softly.

Mr. Rumpel: "All right. Then I'll come back on Friday. If my back doesn't get better, Monday can be too. Tuesday maybe. Monday or Tuesday. Wednesday at the latest."

Mayerling: "Bring me the pipes and the four one-and-a-half-inch clamps by the end of next week, and I'll do the rest myself."

Mr. Rumpel: "Well then, let's say right away Friday in two weeks and then that will be done."

Mayerling: "Yes, that's how we do it. Goodbye, Mr. Rumpel!"

Mr. Rumpel(raises his hand): "Bye!"

All: "Goodbye, Mr. Rumple!"

(Mr. Rumpel leaves. His voice can still be heard softly: "Since when does a staircase go up there? ... I see ... that's the laundry room ...").

Mr. Wolf(looking at his watch): "All right, I think our time would be up for today. Can we leave it like that?"

Roman: "I'd like to say something about that, though."

(He looks at Sabine punishingly.)

Sabine: "What is it now?"

Roman(exasperated): "Nothing at all."

Sabine(more insistently): "What is it?"

Roman(annoyed): "Nothing!"

Sabine: "I don't know ... what's wrong?"

Roman(hissing softly): "I don't have anything!"

Sabine(takes Roman's hand): "Now say ..."

Roman(reproachfully): "You could also stand behind me for once and not always ..."

Mr. Wolf(pointing to the stop sign): "Always!"

Sabine(lets go of Roman's hand): "What? ... I always stand by you, ... but why should I interfere in your conflicts?"

Roman: "And whoalwayssays ..."

Mr. Wolf(taps very hard on the stop sign): "Please, my dears, we have decided together ..."

Sabine: "We've talked about this so many times ... remember ... projections ... so please, Roman."

Roman: "My projections? Of course, my projections, it's always my fault and you never say ..."

Mr. Wolf(taps so hard on the stop sign that it falls over): "Nevereither, we have ..."

Sabine(very annoyed to Roman): "Go,you know what ..."

Mr. Wolf: "Well, I'd like to call it a day now. I'll pick you up there next time, but for today I would suggest ... there's no point now either. I suggest we make a point right there. It was very exciting again today. I thank you and look forward to ... when do we have again?"

(Lights off, pan to Theo.)

The latter gets up from his bed and says convincingly:

"Such a fine gentleman! I want to be like that. James, did you remember all the fine words Mr. Wolf said?"

James nods with a smile. Theo taps the tip of his nose.

"Good thinking, James! From today, we are also such fine gentlemen."

He laughs softly, "Very exciting!"

End of Act 1

Appendix:

And if you aspire to a career as a psychotherapist/supervisor, I advise you to memorize and internalize the 15 golden phrases I have painstakingly compiled that are essential to these professions.

Even at the risk of appearing alienating to your friends/partners/children from now on, if you start applying it in your private life as well.

FRAMEWORK!!!!

The 15 golden phrases for successful psychotherapy/supervision

Shall we take a closer look?

Get into action.

May I invite you to ...

Do you want to go in there together?

(related to a topic)

Exciting.

Is there anything current?

Can I pick you up there?

What does this do to you? (related to a realization/feeling)

Feel inside yourself.

Did you listen carefully to what he/she said?

(mainly in group supervision)

I would like to make a point there.

Can you take it that way?

So, I think our time (looking at the clock) would be up.

Can we leave it like that?

15. when do we have again?

6. it would be because of the pants

To cut a long story short and tell them right away, nothing came of the pants purchase.

You thought so, didn't you? Admittedly, in some things I was very predictable. Especially if you knew me and dealt with me a bit. And if you knew me, you wouldn't even think of going shopping for pants with me. The constant dressing and undressing, the trying on, the waiting, the saleswoman who could never resist wondering about my width-to-size ratio, and all because of three pieces of comfortable sweatpants. In the case ofC&A,just sweatpants. You shopped atC&Awhen youneededa pair of pants. Not because youwantedone. You didn't buy nice pants there, you bought pants. Nor did you buy a fashionable winter jacket there, you bought a winter jacket. Mothers liked to go shopping there with theirchildren,when they didn't liketheir children