Chapter 41 40

【manager】 At ten o'clock in the evening, I caught the night train to Berlin in Düsseldorf.I've been on the bus for five hours and I won't arrive in Berlin until morning. There were five other beds in my sleeper, and it was hot and cramped.After hours in bed, I couldn't sleep anymore, so I walked over to the dining car.Although the fast food counter was closed, there was still a coffee machine, so I stayed up until dawn, drinking coffee with milk in a small plastic cup, thinking about the telegrams from Berlin, Mount Everest, Ashley.I took out my notebook and pen. □□□ September 14th City Night Train, Düsseldorf︱Berlin.

In April 1924, Inmogen was in Berlin.At least Ashley thought so.But why did she go there?How much connection did she have with Ashley, or with Eleanor and Charlotte? I'd better find clues in Berlin. It was still dark when the train pulled into the station.The sign says Berlin Central Station.I stepped out the door and looked up at the soaring glass ceiling and the white face of the platform clock.Four twenty-eight in the morning.I had breakfast in an empty dining area, and then took a shuttle bus to a hostel in an administrative district called Mitte in central Berlin.The days are cold and refreshing.After a week in the French countryside, Berlin seemed to me to be huge, sprawling: women watering potted plants on high-rise balconies, street signs in thick sans-serif, sunrise The sun shines golden on the ball of the towering TV tower.

The girl at the youth hostel took me to my room, then I dropped my backpack and took a shower.I took the underground to the main post office on Joachimstaller Strasse and leaned against the glass doors to wait for the opening time.At eight o'clock, an employee in a blue shirt and striped tie opened the door and waved me in.I embarrassedly asked if anyone could speak English.I was then passed on to several employees who told me over and over again that my problem was someone else's business or I would have to make an appointment with another post office.I was finally told to wait for a manager to come over.

A few minutes later, the gray-haired manager shuffled to the counter.His uniform was the same as the others, but with suspenders, and his shirt was wrinkled badly.He didn't look very happy when he saw me. impossible.He said in English: You can't take someone else's mail waiting. I'm not about to get mail.I'm just wondering how long mail is usually kept on hold. German mail for two weeks.One month for international mail. What if no one comes to claim it? Return to sender. What if there is no return address? That is undeliverable mail.We will destroy. Are there no exceptions?

The manager made a strange expression.I don't think so.Maybe you can tell me what you need and I'll see if I can help. I wiped my face with my hands and tried to explain it to him in a reasonable way.The manager listened to my story with a deadpan face.He opened a door behind the counter and motioned for me to enter. Come to my office.I want to talk to you. I followed him through a labyrinth of low-ceilinged corridors into his office, a windowless room filled with piles of curled paper.He sat down behind a steel desk and asked me to sit down too. My business is dealing with valuable unclaimed mail.I will also cooperate with the Postal Museum.So you are lucky to have met me.

The manager had a very serious expression on his face.He said he took the time to explain it to me because I'm a foreigner and he knows it's not handled the same way in my country.He told me that in European society, the role of public institutions is very important, and the postal service is no exception, because public office is a respected profession in Germany, and it does not just accommodate lazy and incompetent people.He understands that I am only a tourist here, but any tourist in a foreign country must respect local customs, and in this country, it is very rude to hinder the conduct of important public institutions because of their own whims.

The manager went on to say that since I seemed like a smart and reasonable young man, I should understand the situation and stop wasting his and his staff's time.Common sense alone is enough to answer my question; you don't have to harass a post office employee, let alone five clerks and a manager, to find out if unclaimed mail is kept for eighty years.In the end he explained to me that in this country, institutions like theirs have to be transparent in how they do business, so now whatever doubts I have, I can ask him. But I didn't make up that story.It's all true. The manager smiled.He took a form from a drawer, put it in front of me, apologized that there was no English form, and then instructed me to fill in the blanks.

Write the sender's name here.Here is the recipient's name.You write waiting mail here.Write your name, address, email, phone number here.Sign here. The manager handed me a ballpoint pen, leaned back in his chair, and explained to me that the services of public agencies cannot be discriminated against and must be consistent, so whether it is a legitimate inquiry or when the other party's intentions are unclear, it can be accepted. dealt with in a fair manner.Public servants are not responsible for judging.He asked me to fill out the form and while he took my query with a grain of salt he would do his best to handle it for me.

I completed the form and handed it back to the manager.He read the content with a smile on his face. Tristan.campbell.He read aloud.But Tristan, where is your Isolde? He put the form in another drawer of the desk, then swung the chair back to the computer.I left the office without saying goodbye to him. Note, Wikipedia: Tristan and Isolde (Tristan und Isolde) is Richard.An opera by Wagner, which he himself called a three-act play.The premiere took place on June 10, 1865 at the Royal Court and State Theater in Munich.This opera is Wagner and Mathilde.Wiesendonk's portrayal of love is regarded as the end of classical︱romantic music and the beginning of new music (Tristan chords).