A Minor Tragedy of Errors

For at least two days I've had the feeling that an event would intervene and cancel out this afternoon's interview. Having arrived comfortably at this afternoon with no such event having occurred, I ascribed this presentiment to nerves, and therefore went about my business, leaving for the interview (which would be at 3 p.m.) at ca. 2:30. Then the intervening event did occur, in the shape of an involuntary U-Bahn odyssey, which was so prolonged that it was only at ca. 3:42 that I rang at the door of the office building, and climbed the stairs to the third floor, to find that the lady who was to interview me had gone home, the next interview would be in ten minutes, and that the nice (and even apologetic) person who greeted me would ask if the interview could be rescheduled, but otherwise I'd had my chance and muffed it.

I did look at the map beforehand, but had the peculiar notion that the Kurfürstendamm station was right up the U7 line. Upon looking at the boards at the U-Bahn station, it was clear that this was not the case. So I thought that Ku'damm must be on the U6 line, and intended to switch onto it at Möckernbrücke. The problem is that Mehringdamm, not Möckernbrücke, is the station where the switch to the U6 should be made. But at Möckernbrücke one can switch to a line that goes directly to Uhlandstraße, which was also near my destination. So, after being half-lost in the station (you cross the glass bridge with the eagle-shapes on the windows, and then continue to the rear), I found the right platform, and eventually entered the train in the right direction. The train stopped at Gleisdreieck. It stopped for a long while, and, having seen the posters explaining that there was construction on the line (I assumed/hoped it was in the other direction), I had an awful foreboding. As the train doors closed, I kept a careful watch . . . and we were moving back in the same direction from which we had come.

So, back at Möckernbrücke, I got back into the train to Mehringdamm, and switched to the U6 line in the direction of Alt-Tegel. When the next station was Kochstraße (Checkpoint Charlie), I thought that it was sort of weird. When the next station was Stadtmitte, I knew that something was horribly wrong and got out, quickly finding out that Ku'damm was not on the U6 line at all. So then, by this time with a tragic face and a mood to match, I got out and decided to walk back to the Kochstraße station merely to get fresh air and clear my mind. There were taxis along the way but, though there was a brief internal debate, I didn't want to take any (didn't know how much it would cost, find tipping awkward, etc.).

I went back to Mehringdamm Station, took the U7 to the Berliner Straße, and then took the U9(?) up to Osloer Straße as would have been most logical from the outset. Then I had to walk three or four minutes, and found the place easily enough.

Anyway, I went up to the company offices, had the brief conversation, apologized for the truly egregious tardiness, and then went out again, breathing carefully and slowly in and out once the door had closed behind me to prevent an outburst of tears (as much out of frustration with myself as out of disappointment). The question was whether crying would help or be useless and even wimpy, and I decided that it would be useless and moreover not something that is pleasant to do in public. So instead I sat down and read a little Tour du monde en quatre-vingts jours, which was cheering, and then decided to walk home so as to think things over and relax. Once the Kleistpark was reached, I read a little more, and then went the rest of the way home.

Mama and J. were duly commiserating, which helped, and when Uncle Pu came in right afterwards he had brought along ice cream. Splashing cold water on the face and arms, changing sweaters, and having something nice and cool to drink helped, too. And later on Pudel went to a Vietnamese restaurant with me, and we both quietly had a big bowl of soup. Then, back at the apartment, I briefly played the piano, in my view rather badly.

Anyway, I don't want to pretend this is a great tragedy, because it isn't. But I just don't understand why this happened after all the grief I've been put through, and have put myself through, over the years. I've found a reasonable job I could do reasonably well, which would be a wholly new experience, which would prevent or at least retard my fiscal bankruptcy, and which would be exactly in the direction of what I'd like to do later in life, and somehow it all goes awry.

But I'll get over it. If the lady calls and the appointment is rescheduled, that would be superlatively great, and if she doesn't, or the interview doesn't go well, the job search will continue. Nil desperandum!