When a Test Center Becomes a Sweatshop (#5 Final: The Berlin Syndrome)
This is a long story about my fellow social scientist Bjørn working at a rapid antigen test center in Berlin.
(The content has been approved by Bjørn. The information regarding concerned people’s identities has been changed to protect their privacy)
Part 1 of the story is here; Part 2 is here, Part 3 is here, and Part 4 is here.
The final days
Bjørn and Maia had to pretend that nothing had changed at the test center. They went about their days as usual, trying to earn money to survive. They knew they had to keep up appearances, even if they didn’t trust Nicolas and Daniil anymore. They also had to pretend that nothing had happened between them and Aatif.
Actually, Bjørn had bigger problems to deal with. He had just received his tuition bill for the coming semester, and he didn’t have enough money to pay it. He started to panic, wondering how he was going to get the money in time. Thankfully, Nicolas and Daniil managed to give him 200 euros as a “bonus” for his hard work at the test center. Bjørn knew it should have been much more than this amount, but he didn’t have much choice at that point. He took the money and paid his tuition fees, feeling relieved yet disgusted.
Then the test center didn’t get its license renewed, and Nicolas and Daniil had to close down. The closure was actually good timing for Bjørn because he would soon be leaving Germany for visa and funding issues (though it was a bit ironic since he had just managed to pay the fee). He packed his things and did some traveling before leaving Germany, but he felt guilty that he hadn’t met Karolina for coffee as they had promised. Part of him didn’t want to face Karolina because he knew he couldn’t hate Nicolas and Daniil 100%, which would drive her crazy.
Berlin Syndrome?
Bjørn was lucky enough to get a one-year scholarship from his university, which meant he could come back to Berlin. He didn’t text Nicolas and Daniil when he returned to the city. Instead, he went back alone to the place where the test center used to be. He was shocked that he still missed the days when he could earn his money without a scholarship or support from the university. He wondered if this was Stockholm Syndrome or “Berlin Syndrome”.
Yes, he remembered and missed the friendships he had made with Maia, Karolina, and even Aatif. He could still feel the sense of accomplishment every time he finished a long day’s work and the joy of receiving his money. He also still listened to the music that was played in that workplace, such as Voyage Voyage by Desireless and An Analog Guy In A Digital World by Martin Roth. Of course, he couldn’t ignore the fact that he was being exploited, working long hours for low pay and being treated like a machine. Karolina was absolutely right about Nicolas and Daniil’s misdeeds. But as much as Bjørn hated to admit it, they had actually helped him stay in Berlin.
“Does this mean that I am finally learning that life is not about principles and ideals, but about finding a balance between what you believe in and what you need to survive?” Bjørn asked me one day as we walked through the Tiergarten.
I didn’t know what to say.
“I guess I don’t care as much about so-called ‘social justice’ as I thought I did,” Bjørn said in a melancholic tone. “Maybe I just want to find a real job that will help me enjoy the freedom of Berlin.”
Again, I didn’t know how to respond. But I understood what he was saying. If I were him, I would probably have similar feelings toward those who employed the carrot-and-stick approach to control me. It sounds pathetic, but that is how many of us play (and suffer) in the hegemonic system of capitalism. We think we are benefiting from this project, but actually, it is more of a fantasy, a delusion.
I guess, we both get stuck in the Berlin Syndrome.
