The Firm

I am exhausted. I have gotten an absolute maximum of three hours of sleep and have spent three and a half hours on the train to get here, followed by a half-hour bus ride through Bonn's residential sectors. Now, finally standing at the entrance to the corporate campus, the long journey is over and I am ready for a nap.

So why is my heart beating like a jackhammer?

The first obstacle is to figure out where to go. There is no obvious "front door" and no central building. To my left stands a massive glass structure with a wall made up of millions of small colored lights that are constantly changing patterns and hues. Inside I can see that the back wall of the building is one huge video screen showing advertisements for the firm's various products.

To the right is a series of shorter, apartment-style looking buildings painted in colorful hues, connected by a series of glass skybridges. I stand there for a good 30 seconds trying to figure out where I should go. Where on earth is the front desk?

Then, out of the corner of my eye, a flash of green: a Starbucks logo on the right side of the enormous glass building. Irrelevant. New priority. I step through the automatic-revolving doors into the enormous glass cube.

Bingo. The front desk. A massive waiting area at least half the size of a football field. Broad, circular desk manned by no less than five receptionists. To the left, a Starbucks -- the first one I've seen in months -- shining like a beacon of light in a world full of darkness. But sadly, having found the front desk, priorities are back to normal. Here goes nothing.

"Hallo, Department XYZ?" I ask, expecting her to direct me to the correct floor. Odd that the department's name is in English instead of German.

Receptionist #3 narrows her heavily-mascara-ed eyes and furrows her brow. "Bitte? Ich habe kein Wort verstanden."

Whaddya mean you don't understand? That's the name of the department! "Uhhhh, yes. It's Department XYZ. I'm looking for Herr Baumann?"

Finally, a response. "Name?" She began typing. It takes three tries for her to finally spell my first name correctly and realize that "Matthew" is not, in fact, my last name. Dangit -- gotta remember to introduce myself with my LAST name here.

"Please take a seat. Herr Baumann will be down to pick you up in a moment. Would you like a coffee?" I cast a longing gaze at the Starbucks. No, bad idea. Last thing I need is to have coffee breath unarmed with gum. She slides a temporary ID card with a clip holder across the counter and I take my seat in the Starbucks lounge area across from a large man enjoying his surely-soy-non-fat-decaf latte (otherwise known as a "why bother."). He eyes me and I eye him. That's right. Go on and drink your coffee. One day, the tables will be turned and it'll be you oogling MY coffee. One day...

Herr Baumann fetches me. Everything is a blur. First thought: Dangit -- should have gone with the suit-but-no-tie. I'm underdressed. He speaks so quietly I can hardly hear him and have to strain to catch every word. He ushers me through the glass doors guarded by a security guard (I flash the pass hanging on my pocket) and we're in. This is where it all happens. It's lunch hour, and the employees are all filing out of the elevators and into what looks like a huge cafeteria.

"I thought we could have lunch with a couple of colleages of mine." Herr Baumann explains and introduces me to two people whose names I cannot catch over the loud chatter in the lobby. We step into the cafeteria, and --

Whoa. This company loves their employees. A lot.

It's a college dining hall the way it was meant to be. Two stories. Soda, water, juice, and smoothie dispensers -- all you can drink. Counters soliciting their various specialities -- Vegetarisch, Tagesgericht, Spezialitäten, Nachtisch. A cafe. Coffee and cocoa dispensers. Hundreds of chairs and tables spread about a well-lit (thanks to the fact that two of the four walls are floor-to-ceiling glass.) atrium. I've died and gone to dining hall heaven.

"Just grab a tray and silverware and stuff and we'll meet at the cash register." Herr Baumann ambles off with his colleages and I juggle my coat and bag with the tray. Finally, having secured my Schnitzel, potatoes, carrots, and water, I rejoin the others and we find find a table with four seats free.

The questions begin. Where did I learn German? How old am I? Why am I majoring in Economics? What interests me about Company X? I attempt to master the art of chewing when they talk and organizing my food on my plate when I talk. Finally, the question that stops my heart from Colleage #2:

"So, in order to put my mind at ease about hiring someone under 24 onto a team like ours, tell me what your most important asset is."

I almost choke on the schnitzel. Besides the fact that I'm pretty sure it's illegal to make a statement like that about my age in the U.S., I hate that question. However, we are neither in the U.S. nor playing by my rules here. Time to deliver.

"First off, I think my age is an asset. I'm young, and that means that, if invested in by this company, I have a lot to offer Company X for the long haul. I'm an investment." All this in broken, horrible, gut-wrenching German.

"Pretty cocky," Colleage #2 replies, "but we're interested in what you offer NOW."

Strike one. Remember what they want and cut the crap. "Alright. Well, look, I've made no secret of the fact that I have not even started my major coursework yet. I have nothing but my Grundstudium to go off of, and as we discussed earlier, Grundstudium in the States is worth next to nothing. So as far as business-related details goes, gentlemen, I am a blank slate. I have basic accounting, basic econ, and good Microsoft Office skills. But what I can tell you is this: I am an extremely fast learner. I learn fast and I will learn whatever it takes to do this job and meet your expectations." I finish, sit back, and inhale.

Colleage #2 seems taken aback by my honesty. Herr Baumann's eyebrows are raised. "That's a good point." I can't tell whether he's actually impressed or can somehow tell that I'm dying a little inside and is trying to get his colleage to back off.

The rest of lunch goes smoothly and it's my turn to ask questions. I ask in detail about some of the tasks I'd be performing and strain hard to catch every word of the responses I get. I discover anew that in German, if you do not know every single word in a sentence spoken to you, you can lose the entire meaning easily. I come away with a basic but far-less-complete-than-I'd-like-it-to-be understanding of what this job would entail.

We head upstairs to the office. Herr Baumann stops at a small display showcasing Company X's most popular products. "I'm sure you're familiar with some of these from the States," he remarks, and picks one of the gadgets up. I am wondering if every employee gets one of those for free.

The office is equally impressive. Desks with hydraulics that can raised and lowered to allow one to work standing or sitting. Cubicles with frosted-white glass separators. I meet the other two interns, one of whom I am replacing. First thought: Why is he wearing sneakers with his suit? He fills me in on the final details of the job, reassures me that I'll learn everything I need to know here, and takes me back to the front door. "We need a definite answer by Friday, so please find out what you need to with your university and let us know." We say goodbye and I'm off to the bus stop again.

I sit on the bench at the edge of campus, heartbeat finally returning to normal. My mind is blank and I have no idea what I want to do. I hope things work out with ASU. Or do I?

The bus takes me back downtown, where I get off and wander the Altstadt. It's raining now, and I'm soaked, but I don't care. I'm in a daze. I'm hungry but don't want to eat. An enormous cathedral emerges in front of me and I duck inside.

Quiet. Peaceful, wonderful, ruhig, quiet. Colorful fresco, marble, the soft glow of electric bulbs hanging from the ceilings. The most magnificient altar I've ever seen in my life, golden, an explosion of color, lit by the most beautiful stained glass I've ever seen at its rear. It's a work of art. The whole cathedral is breaktaking.

I wander to the back and slide into a pew, eyes mesmerized by the front of the church. And in the quiet solitude, I suddenly feel afraid, depressed, and desperate. I cry out silently.

Lord, I don't know what to do. I don't know if I want this or not. You know my heart, you know what it is that I need better than I do. You know that all I want is to do what You would have me do. Please.....please -- if it is Your will that I do this, make the details work out with ASU.

The woman in front of me finishes praying, stands up, crosses herself, and leaves. I sit there for a few more minutes before venturing out into the rain again to wander the streets. A beggar sitting on the Marktplatz against a lamppost -- soaking wet and huddled in a blanket -- asks me for change as I walk by, but I ignore him and walk on. 500 meters later, fingering the coins in my pocket and driven by I don't know what, I turn around and return to his spot. I stop in front of him and hold out the coins in my hand. He smiles as I drop them into his open palm. "Danke schoen."

I decide to get out of this rainy city earlier than I'd planned and return to the train station. I sit on the Bahnsteig for 30 minutes waiting for the train to arrive, and when it does, I plop down into a seat next to a window in a nearly empty car.

The InterCity chugs along the Rhine, which is cloaked in fog and dusted with a layer of snow that won't budge. Barges navigate its low waters cautiously as I stare blankly out the window. I still don't know what to do. I don't want to make a decision.

It's not up to you anymore. Just go home, check your email for word from ASU, and let God handle the rest.

Four hours later I finally trudge into Waldhäuser-Ost. I stop at the store to buy some bread for Abendbrot, check my snail-mail (2 letters), and return to my room.

No email from ASU. A letter from the DAAD notifying me of the meeting in March, and a cell phone bill for 34 euro.

Outside, the rain falls steadily in the dark.