14/11/2014

“Casual fashion for a casual life”. There’s something not quite right about Tom Tailor’s former slogan. As with most of its campaigns, it’s written in English, promoting the broader American feel about the company. Most Germans think Tom Tailor is based in the US, a perception supported by its thoroughly un-German name – few would suspect that its head office is in the sleepy Hamburg suburb of Niendorf, characterised by its predominance of elderly people and startlingly nondescript architecture.

Bleak is chic in Niendorf Market

The majority of people here speak English – indeed, most of them slip it into their everyday speech without thinking. Words like “service”, “show” and “download” are liable to crop up in otherwise purely German sentences, just as “I don’t know” is a perfectly legitimate German response to questions. But though bilingualism is impressively prevalent here, few speak English to a level of fluency and linguistic confidence to recognise the many minor oddities in English language advertising here.

Let’s take a look at “casual fashion for a casual life”. If it were “casual fashion for a casual lifestyle”, it’d be beyond criticism (barring appraisal of the actual effectiveness of the message). But a “casual life” isn’t a thing. It sounds like a life of not being bothered. A life you only show up to when nothing else is on. If your eulogy featured a reference to the “casual life” you’d led, your legacy would be in pretty dire straits. Of course, it’d be a great campaign for a company targeting the existentially noncommittal – but after six weeks of working with the company, I’m pleased to say that our customer base isn’t quite so narrowly definable. Accordingly, my native English-speaking boss killed the campaign as quickly as he could.

But he might just as well have spared himself the effort. German consumers capable of this sort of hair-splitting are few and far between; most will see “casual + fashion + life”, and run with the gist of the message. Even those who harbour doubts about the formulation are likely to shrug their shoulders and accept it – after all, who are they to correct the Americans at Tom Tailor?

This I think allows for an interesting linguistic phenomenon to develop in commercial advertising: the license to sound foreign. It doesn’t matter if the sentences are stilted from the perspective of a native English speaker – the targeted German consumers will have much less of an appetite for criticism.  As long as you strike the right buzzwords or catchphrases, the ideas will come through even if the phrasing is patchy. 

The phenomenon can be witnessed all over this city. Tom Tailor provides another specimen with our “You better believe (kn)it” campaign, in which we exhort customers to cast their doubts aside and affirm their faith in textile manufacture. At least, that’s what the message literally implies. The benchmark standard of puns drops significantly when you permit yourself to sound foreign – your claims can be unapologetically nonsensical, as long as they’re more or less familiar-sounding.

Now I'm a beweaver.

A Marlboro ad on my route to work is another good example. It displays a biker in the middle of the desert on the left side, then on the right a couple of packs of cigarettes and the message “Maybe I will do it my way”. With “maybe” struck out. As if the biker opened his diary one afternoon, wrote the sentence complete with the “maybe”, then reconsidered, and in a devil-may-care act of brazen defiance drew a red cross over it.

Scorching intransigence from the smokers

Or my HanseNet mouse pad from Customer Services at the Alsterhaus. The more I look at this one, the less I understand it. Is it meant to be a play on words? 

Get it?

No one says “high speedy”, because it doesn’t mean anything. No one talks about their "casual life". And no one writes “maybe I will do it my way”, least of all leather-clad desert trekking bikers. But once you leave a native English-speaking market, this stuff becomes pure gold. English is a very different beast here – it’s fizzy and it's glamorous, and faintly intoxicating. And even when it’s wrong, it’s oh so right. 

05/11/2014

Fashion spam reworked.

As briefly summarised in the previous article, I’ve been working at a German clothing retailer for the last month. I’m at the lowest rung in the strategic marketing team hierarchy, and as such, one of my primary responsibilities is to face all the spam that gets sent our way. Some of this is spam which I actually have to do something about – if Frau Naujoks of Interactive Digital Marketing insists on speaking with my boss about developing branded trinkets as customer giveaways, it’s my job to tell her that, while we’re very impressed by her idea of printing the company logo onto a USB stick, we’re either a) already well supported by partner firms in this area, or b) unable to modify budget allocations for the year. Sometimes both, if the Frau or Herr in question is really struggling to get the message.

But some of the spam is, I’m pleased to say, entirely harmless. I’d go a step further – some of it is positively delightful. It’s always a relief when an unexpected email turns out to be an Italian fashion newsletter or photographer’s portfolio, clearly sent to thousands of addresses at once. There’s something very uplifting about reading these messages – they are almost always upbeat and friendly, and yet they expect nothing in return for their cheering buoyancy. It only felt right to honour them as best I could, with verbatim inclusion on this blog. Though with some of my own edits added in – they’re rough diamonds, to be sure, and as this one captured my imagination, I couldn't help myself from embellishing. Below I give you my rework of a piece from Shotview Berlin (everything in navy is from the original email).

-----

A few minutes with… CLAUDIA HOFMANN! And her muscular boyfriend, Jarryd.

Interviewer: Claudia, you are well-known for your intensive cooperation with high fashion magazines. Is there one particular work of yours that stands representative for your style?

Claudia: I would describe my style myself as sleek/glamoures but always with a twist of coolness.

Jarryd: Oh come on, she’s being modest. A ‘twist’ of coolness? More like a whole bloody saucepan of it. She pisses cool, is what she does.

I: You collaborated with photographers like Peter Lindbergh, Joachim Baldauf or Markus Pritzi. As well as with celebrities like Karl Lagerfeld or Naomi Campbell. Is there someone or somebody´s œuvre that you would call your muse?

[J coughs loudly]

C: I very much like to work with different photographers and teams because it is always nice to get different amazing input and my style is getting also a different look.

J: Well put Claud. I think “muse” is a pretty serious word to start throwing around, but I mean I help out with her diet and shit.

I: Fashion brands such as Escada, Toni Gard, St. Emile and Adidas love to work with you. From classic-chic to avant-garde to sporty – you are familiar with the diverse concepts of styling. Is there any style on your wish list that you haven´t realised yet?

C: I almost did all kind of styles, but to look into the future, realize the look of the year 3000 would be amazing.

J: Hey yeah, you could be wearing like space boots and an astronaut suit. And riding a purple hovercraft! Yeah, it’s a great idea. But absolutely, she almost did do all kind of styles. This close… [gestures with thumb and forefinger]

I: Your work as creative consultant for TV shows as fashion editor, stylist and creative consultant demonstrate the confidence in your work also in this field. Is there an anecdote that can tell us more about the method and give us an insight behind the scenes of your work?

C: I was responsible to bring Naomi Campbell into the show of GNTM.  The whole idea, which scenario would fit perfectly to her to be in the show and how to translate it into a nice and sensitive content was quite interesting since the TV world is so much different for fashion people.

J: Hahah yeah that story always gets me! It’s just, like, totally different! Like you wouldn’t believe! [wipes eyes amid jerks of laughter]

I: Originally you have studied fashion design. You are the co-founder of stylebop.com and established the portal as creative director. Your work for the exclusive porcelain manufacturer Meissen shows another side and variety of your competence. You got the exhibition going and launched the catalogue. Besides styling, your skills in concept, curating and production were also highly appreciated. You are without doubt a multi-talented person. [C blushes at the flattering words, J sees this and shoots a cold stare at the interviewer] What do you do to get inspired?

J: You watch what you say mate.

C: Since I´m traveling al lot in different countries I got most of my inspiration from there and from daily situations when I´m walking on the streets.

J: She’s pretty much being inspired all the time, when she’s not having to deal with wanker interviewers. Isn’t that right babe?

I: Currently, you convince as Editor-at-large Beauty at Harper´s Bazaar. Do you have a particular kind of woman in mind while creating your styles?

C: For Harper´s Bazaar I see a strong independent woman but still with a feminine sense.

J: I should just help explain this a bit, because most people we meet find it hard to figure out the whole “strong independent woman with a feminine sense” thing. They’re just like, “do you mean masculine sense?” For ages I assumed Claud meant “masculine sense” too. But I’ve thought about it, and I think what she means is, being a woman, and being strong and independent at the same time. Still trying to nut it out though.

I: As fashion director you always established the upcoming trends. In a few words how would you describe the fashion stories that you tell in your work?

C: I always play with fashion and create my own style. It is very important for me that my work shows  an idea for readers or clients to get a new view/perspective for them on fashion.

J: I’ll answer your question with another question. What is fashion? [glances back and forth between the interviewer and Claudia, with a glint in his eye] Hm? That gets you thinking, doesn’t it? Fashion is basically whatever Claud decides to put on in the morning. Because she’s a natural. Would you ask a forest where it gets its trees from? Like, would you ask a mountain how it makes its caves? No. And this is totally the same thing. Totally. Sorry, what was the question?

I: Is there a key piece that you would recommend every woman to have in her wardrobe? What is a must-have and must-do in fashion? 

C: White blouse. It could be a very elegant, basic or oversized one. With a white blouse you are always nice dressed for every situation and it is easy to break a formal look down with leather pants or more dressed up with a pencil skirt.

Be your self.

J: You heard my girl. Be yourself in a white blouse. It’s that easy, just get a bloody blouse and the rest takes care of itself. Though I’ll add a “must do” here, which is like, once you’ve bought the blouse, wear it. Don’t just let it sit there, you know? Cause that’s a pretty easy mistake to make.

I: Which style should we be in the lookout for this autumn?

C: Leather jackets with shearling and knitwear as an all over look.

J: But keep your eyes open, they could be lurking anywhere.

31/10/2014

Right, where were we? The Alsterhaus? Well, not anymore we’re not. For the last month, I’ve been working away at my second internship – in marketing at TOM TAILOR, a German clothing retailer. TOM TAILOR, not Tom Tailor, by the way. Don’t make that mistake. Making that mistake in the TT marketing department is less ‘beginner’s error’ and more ‘grounds for immediate dismissal’.

It isn’t, obviously. German job protection laws mean that you can get away with a hell of a lot more than failing to make the company title sufficiently shouty, for which fact I’ll remain indebted to the Bundestag forever. And that’s not all I have to thank Merkel for – she’s generously waited until the end of my contract before sounding the death knell for German internships. But perhaps more on that later. 

For now, a quick review of the plummeting TOM TAILOR Holding AG share price, and why I’m entirely responsible for it.

The red zone represents the time I've spent with the company.

01/10/2014

First day: Office is beautiful, everyone’s nice, a lot of Anglophones to fall back onto.

I call a coworker the wrong name by accident. Share price drops 51c.

06/10/2014

Settling in. Slowly figuring out my responsibilities in the department. Loving the 1.50€ all-you-can-eat lunches.

I fumble a phone connection. The caller ends up waiting over ten seconds on hold. Share price drops 9c.

08/10/2014

There’s a lunch for interns working at TT. Only four of us turn up, but it’s nice enough.

I spill coffee on the CEO’s desk. Share price drops 13c.

09/10/2014

The work comes in short, intense bursts. It’s challenging getting used to the erratic rhythm, but I like being kept on my toes.

I spill coffee on the CEO’s face. Share price drops 68c.

 10/10/2014

My boss speaks at a hundred miles an hour. Just trying to keep up is forcing me to process information faster, and communicate more efficiently.

I flood the boardroom with coffee. The directors are disgruntled. Share price drops 39c.

 13/10/2014

Starting to use the many emails I receive as a basis for learning helpful new phrases, like “bei Fragen komm gern auf mich zu”.

I incorrectly separate an inseparable verb. Share price drops 43c.

 16/10/2014

A colleague and I discuss Hanseatic culture, and changes in Northern Germany’s political patterns in recent decades.

I cycle to work instead of taking the bus, shaving ten minutes off my commute. Share price jumps 39c.

 23/10/2014

My capacity to make the fill colour of textboxes semi-transparent in PowerPoint impresses a colleague.

I top my group in a TOM TAILOR Young Talent minigolf tournament. Share price jumps 11c.

 29/10/2014

The team heads out at midday to debrief on plans for our expansion into India. We discuss Bollywood-themed teaser campaigns over pizza.

I use a Microsoft Word template to spruce up an otherwise unremarkable memo. Applause ensues. Share price jumps 40c.

 ---

So after a classic 25%-drop-in-market-cap start I’m beginning to get my act together, and the company is reaping the rewards. Weiter so!

11/10/2014

“Bist du farbenblind oder einfach blöd?”

Die Frage klang laut und bedrohend in meinen Ohren. Ein weiterer Beweis dafür, dass die Deutschen zutiefst begabt sind, farbige Ausdrücke leicht von der Zunge gehen zu lassen. Auch wenn das Thema monochrom ist. Ich sagte nichts, hielt die Ohren steif, und überfuhr die rote Fußgängerampel auf meinem Fahrrad.

Die Worte meines redegewandten Gesprächpartners sind mir aber geblieben. Einige Minuten suchte ich eine pfiffige Antwort, wie immer wenn ich plötzlich konfrontiert mit einer Frage oder Aussage bin, die mich ins Scheudern bringt. Ich arbeitete Retourkutsche nach Retourkutsche in meinem Kopf aus, aber ich konnte das faustische Gespenst dieses gesetzestreuen Fußgängers nicht überlisten. ‘Ja, ich bin farbenblind” schien mir auf den ersten Blick furchtbar schlau – eine kurze Überlegung reichte zu sehen, wie blöd (und deshalb ironisch) dieses Antwort gewesen wäre. Letzten Endes hat die Wahrheit mir gedämmert – er hatte Recht.

Das heißt nicht, dass ich nie mehr rote Ampeln überfahren werde. Es ist allerdings schwer, eine Position mündlich zu verteidigen, wenn es offensichtlich und zu Recht illegal ist. Das war nicht ein flegelhafter Spott seitens eines besoffenen Passant, sondern Empörung über ein Schwerverbrechen, und ich war der Schuldiger. Aber inwiefern? Diese Empörung hatte seinen Ursprung in reiner Autoritätshörigkeit, statt in einem echten moralischen Grund. Es war spät und die Straße war leer – vielleicht ist es genauso blöd gegen das Gesetz zu verstoßen wie eine Regel blind und einsichtslos anzuwenden. Weil es klar ist, dass die schwarz-weiße Handlung meines farbebegierigen Freundes an der bunteren Realität vorbeigeht. (Da habe ich endlich meine Retourkutsche!)

In einzigartiger Weise in der Welt sind Fußgängerampeln ein wichtiges Teil des nationalen Dialogs hier in Deutschland. Die Deutschen weisen oft auf die merkwürdige Entscheidung der Ostdeutschen hin, nach dem Mauerfall ihre alten Ampelmännchen zu behalten. Die östliche Ampel dient als eine Ahnung, dass die Erinnerung der Lebensordnung unter Kommunismus nie auszulöschen ist. Aber was für mich noch merkwürdiger ist, ist etwas, das aus meiner Erfahrung überall in Deutschland gilt: es gibt immer zwei rote Ampeln, und nur eine grüne. 

Das duldet keinen Widerspruch.

Getreu diesem visuellen Hinweis findet man die gehorsamste Fußgänger der Welt in Deutschland. Egal ob es keine Autos für fünfhundert Meter gibt: wenn die Ampel rot ist, geht man nicht. Oder vielmehr: wenn die Ampeln rot sind. Weil die Deutschen wissen, was noch stärker als eine rote Ampel ist, ist zwei rote Ampeln. Jedenfalls ist diese bemerkenswerte Gehorsamkeit Wasser auf Heinrich Manns “Untertan” Mühle und leichte Beute für so einen unwissenden Teilzeitsoziowissenschaftler wie mich.

Für so einen Untertan hatte ich diesen Fußgänger gehalten. Allerdings muss ich zugeben, dass ich unsicher bleibe, ob die Frage tatsächlich böse gemeint war. Die eine Person unter meinen Freunden, die teilweise farbenblind ist, ist auch deutsch – und ich habe wenige deutschen Freunde. Vielleicht ist es eine besonders häufig vorkommende Benachteiligung in diesem Land? In der Tat würde das auch die doppelte rote Ampeln erklären – die sind dann für die Millionen der Deutsche, die farbenblind sind, und wissen statt der Farben dass zwei bedeutet “halt” und eins bedeutet “geh”. Ja, jetzt bin ich überzeugt davon – die Frage wurde mit den besten Absichten gestellt, und ging nur aus seiner Neugierde hervor. Noch ein Rätsel gelöst im Land der alten Brüstungen.

08/09/2014

There’s been only one post in the last month. Sorry everyone, red faces all around here at LAP HQ. In a desperate bid to quell your justifiable outrage, I’m announcing an upcoming THREE-PART SERIES on modern German culture. I now anticipate the following breathless questions in quick succession from my readers:

Q: Can we expect these to be better, longer articles? A: No. I reserve the right to make them shorter and worse. The purpose of this exercise is to strengthen the bonds of guilt which have sustained my posting efforts thus far, infrequent and inadequate as they may have been. I figure that if I promise three articles, I might come out with at least one. As the old German saying goes: He who dreams of the Far East will one day reach Dresden*.

*This is again made up.

Q: Why on modern German culture? A: Because I’ve been pretty light on the cultural stuff, and I feel I should at least start to pretend this is a legit Year Abroad blog.

Q: Why is it three parts? A: Well it’s hardly a series if it’s one or two parts, is it. Three isn’t much better, but I’ve only had two ideas so far, and don’t want to over-commit. Baby steps.

Q: Why haven’t you been posting more often? A: Eight-hour working days. Staying with friends over weekends. And spending considerable chunks of my free time watching a wholesome mix of 30 Rock and David Mitchell’s Soapbox. Satisfied? How’s your blog doing, by the way?

Q: Are there any plans to use these instalments as the basis of a TV mini-series? A: At this stage I’m not at liberty to comment, and nor is the BBC.

Right, so get ready for an action packed and culturally electrifying journey through the Rhineland! I invite you to join me as I deftly dodge national stereotypes and delve right into the heart of the complex cultural tapestry that is modern Germany. Bring lederhosen.

Please wait patiently until the next post is available.

26/08/2014

What do the fashion house Hugo Boss and the Lernaean Hydra of Greek mythology have in common?

Well, I’m glad you asked. Not a huge amount, as it happens. One is a scaly oversized monstrosity, and the other is the Hydra. Ha! The one-two punch. Classic.

No, I’m not lazily cynical about large international fashion houses – though I’ve always found “Boss” as a brand name a little wankerish. Call me judgmental, but I can never help but attribute a few notes of swaggering overconfidence to anyone who swathes themselves in garments with the word “boss” stamped all over them. Or indeed, to those who do the stamping. I’m considering retiring this mentality for two reasons: the first is that the only lounge suit I own is from Hugo Boss (bought years ago, before I knew any better), and I’m desperate not to be hoist with my own petard (though if I keep using expressions like that, the Hugo Boss suit won’t be my biggest problem).

The second is that Hugo Boss is not the cocky fictional name I once thought it was, but actually just the name of the guy who set up the company. What’s more, he was German, so in his own language and in the original language of the company, the name was entirely unburdened by linguistic associations which for better or worse now wrap themselves around its Anglosphere operations. You can’t fault Hr. Boss for growing up in a world where the flourishing lingua franca condemned his surname to connotations of self-importance*.

Hugo Boss was born in Metzingen in 1885.

Back to the original question. The similarity is this: when you cut the head of the Lernaean Hydra, two more heads appear in its place. The same is true of Hugo Boss. Once the slicing starts, the unified Hugo Boss label disappears – and in its place appear ‘Hugo’ and ‘Boss’.

The latter is “traditional”, “classic”, “timeless”, where the former is “younger”, “more fashionable”, “cheaper”. To roughly quote my colleague in women's fashion. But Hugo Boss isn’t the only company to cut its own name up into horcrux-like component parts. Paul Smith have a range under the name PS; Michael Kors has Michael; and in recent years, Ralph Lauren have introduced the lines Lauren Ralph Lauren and Ralph Ralph Lauren (now known as RRL), in a speculative exercise designed to baffle and frustrate their customers. Marc Jacobs are the only ones trying to make light of all the absurdity - their website banner shifts between "Marc Jacobs (not to be confused with Marc by Marc Jacobs)", and "Marc by Marc Jacobs (not to be confused with Marc Jacobs)". Or maybe they're just genuinely concerned.

That opportunities for price discrimination and exposure to new demographic groups motivate the formation of these offshoot imprints, often cheaper than the originals, is fairly clear. What I find striking is that these companies are so keen to recycle their own names when these offshoots are created. Why do they limit their linguistic inventory to existing company titles?

Probably because the names are recognisable, and provide continuity with the original brand. But then, so does Weekend MaxMara, and Armani Jeans, and Bogner Fire + Ice. The difference is that these latter examples add new words to at least hint at what their angle is, rather than lazily grabbing a name from the pre-existing company title and repurposing it.

This is where my patience for Hugo Boss runs out. It’s not their fault that the surname of their founder corresponds letter for letter with the English word “boss”. But it is their fault that they take this surname, isolate it, and blazon it in big letters above the full title. And it’s that branding which tempts me (against my better judgement) into thinking that Boss designers and wearers alike are self-important arses. Dammit, I need a new suit.

It’s hard to keep your balance when you have such a big head.

*Though you can fault him for being a Nazi.

03/08/2014

It has occured to me that I’ve thus far dealt only with the most glamorous aspects of form processing. But beneath the glitzy themes of statistics and handwriting, there’s a whole underworld of other, equally meritorious material that passes through my hands on a daily basis. What of the unsung heroes, the men and women, the addresses and phone numbers that find themselves trampled underfoot, like serfs beneath a giant elephant? This article is dedicated to them.

A town called Groitzsch.

Only the Germans would take it to five consonants with impunity – and boy have they picked a lively bunch here. If you try to pronounce the letters “tzsch” in isolation, it produces a kind of laser sound. Yet there is something distinctly un-laser-like about the name Groitzsch. Which begs the question: what is this mysterious town, with its surfeit of consonants and its curiously counter-onomatopoeic name? What’s it all about? The answer is that I don’t know, because I just read it on a form once and didn’t enquire any further.

A street called Am klein Flottbeker Bahnhof

In the four words this street sees fit to accord itself as a title, not one of them actually means ‘street’. To translate roughly, I make it out as “beside the little train station in Flottbek”. The advantage of this street name is that if anyone ever asks you where it is, you have a ready-made answer at your fingertips. Ingenious. Why don’t we name all our streets this way? You could drive down “Near the nature strip next to the canal” street, before taking a left turn into “Between near the nature strip next to the canal street and behind the church with the green door street” street. But without the “street”s, obviously. Exciting times lie ahead for Hamburg’s city council, if only they take the plunge and extrapolate.

A woman called Frau Muckenschnabel

I haven’t really checked this. But I’m pretty sure mucken means “to chatter”, and Schnabel means “beak”. So… Miss Chatterbox? This, along with my current employment in the company of a woman named Fröhlich (“happy”) is drawing me slowly into the suspicion that Germans are named one and all after Mr. Men characters. In any case, there’s a fascinating and socially revealing history behind the formation of the name Muckenschnabel. I assume. Consult the Internet to find out more.

A man called Herr Mannsbart

It doesn’t get more masculine than this. This even outdoes “Mr. Men” for brute masculinity. It’s “Mr. Man’s Beard”. What did this man’s ancestor do to get a name like that? Did he stroll into the village one morning, with his proud mane bristling in the sunlight to the utter admiration of his fellow village people? Did they point at him from a distance and say: “Look! That man. His beard. That man has the beard of a man. Henceforth, he and his progeny will be known as Mansbeard.” Maybe. Again, I can’t really comment. Though I would ask you spare a thought for his female progeny – as striking as Mr. Mansbeard is as a name, it has nothing on Mrs. Mansbeard.

--------

Well, if that doesn’t provide the third dimension to my experience in customer services, I don’t know what will. And I’m afraid I’m yet to select a favourite telephone number – though I enjoyed reading that one of our clients was born on 18/14/1973. Glad I’m not the only one trying to keep things light.

"I would like a store loyalty card, please!"

30/07/2014

Bingo! Thank you, Herr Neumann. You are warmly invited to collect your congratulatory luxury food hamper from the Alsterhaus Feinschmeckender Boulevard! Actually, you’re not. We don’t sell food hampers, and if we did, I wouldn’t have the authority to offer you one. But here’s a pen with “Alsterhaus” written on it! Thanks again.

Yours sincerely,

Walter Myer

Junior Customer Services Assistant

No one will notice if one goes missing...

This is the letter (and some of the pens) I considered posting today, after an eventual, glorious triumph in my personal game of bingo. Here’s how the game works: every day, I enter the contents of about a hundred handwritten applications for Alsterhaus loyalty cards into the store’s electronic database. One of the fields I am required to enter is the customer’s date of birth, and as I do this, the history of previously entered birthdates with matching digits appears in a pre-emptive pop-up box beneath the field. So having typed “05”, the box might suggest “05.09.1973” and “05.05.1956”, if those dates have already appeared in previous forms. The aim of my game is to use this pop-up to determine whether a certain day (eg. the 5^th, the 12^th, etc) has appeared in combination with every month of the year. When I find a day that has, I have reached bingo.

I always knew it was a bit weird, but written down it looks pathological. Which makes me think, if it’s hard to explain here, how on earth will I fare in German when Herr Neumann comes to pick up his Alsterhaus branded notepad?

Well, I suspect I’ll have a shot, because the Germans seem to like their numbers. This I’ve learnt recently, with the story of five lottery balls selected in sequential order hitting national headlines. The statistical anomaly was then discussed avidly around the water cooler at work the next day*. Finally, like-minded people! Is what I would've cried if I didn’t find it all a bit boring. So I apply double standards in my passion for different statistical events, shoot me.

That's not Numberwang.

In any case, Herr Neumann may never understand exactly why he made my day. But it’s thanks to his inspired combination of being born on the 20^th March and wanting a loyalty card that my game has finally come to an end.

Only, it hasn’t. In bingo, the game ends when someone wins. The participants jealously applaud, the toupéed presenter packs up his equipment and half-baked rhymes, and everyone takes the bus home. Not so in the world of forms. Here, the game runs on long after the initial suspense has been punctured, pressing daftly into the eternal. Or more likely, until the installation of a direct customer interface registry system.

Which is kind of an important point. As much fun as I’ve been able to generate from converting handwriting to Helvetica, I have performed the role of the quintessential superfluous middleman, and even I know that I need to be cut out. It is senseless for customers to provide their details in writing, sitting three feet away from the computer at which an employee will process the information after two weeks of backlog. Give the customer the computer! Help them with it if they’re unfamiliar with the technology, and the paper forms can always be kept as a last resort. But otherwise, it’d be foolish to pass up an option which saves customer time, employee time, and paper. Heed my call, Alsterhaus, and protect the forests. I will now translate this into German and nail it to the entrance of the local church.

*Sadly, this is a proverbial water cooler – customer service annoyingly doesn’t have one. I fill my water bottle from the taps in the toilets.