a christ-mess carol
(this is a reconstruction of true events that occurred in germany in december 2008. names have been invented as the real identities were not known at the time of writing.)
~~~
once upon a time in the busy pre-christmas season, there were two men who worked for a large courier company in frankfurt. their names were hans and franz. they were colleagues, and together had made many many deliveries all over frankfurt. after work they often hung out and had a beer or two in their favourite kneipe around the corner.
in the days before christmas, the 2 couriers delivered dozens of stollen every day to lucky people all over the city. stollen wrapped in large parcels and small, some home-made, some fresh from the town of dresden, home of the original stollen. this made hans and franz very hungry. mmmm, the lovely aroma of raisins and powder sugar that wafted out of the parcels! one day, hans did not have time to eat the lunch that his wife would make for him every work day for him to heat up in the canteen microwave. it had been a busy morning, and just returned from a delivery run, he quickly left the depot again with his colleague franz and six parcels to deliver. his evil boss would give him a hard time and call him lazy otherwise - the ultimate insult for a german courier. one of the parcels had the unmistakable and irresistible smell of a stollen. the slightly burnt raisins, the candied orange and lemon peel, the moist dough that was embraced by powder sugar like a blanket of snow... hans felt the big hole in his tummy.
*i'm starving!*, he squealed.
he looked at franz, whose nostrils had also been teased by the stollen. (franz had eaten about six leberwurst sandwiches for lunch, but his expandable gut was never satisfied.) the two couriers looked at each other, then at the stollen parcel... then everything happened really quickly. a quiet side street was found. cardboard was ripped, paper was torn, and an innocent stollen brutally ravaged.
when they woke up from their feeding frenzy after a felt eternity (but which was only about 10 minutes) they each stared into glaring eyes and an open mouth laced with white sugar. franz belched, slinging them back to the here and now, fast.
*what have we done*, hans whispered in a toneless voice. it was not so much a question as a statement.
*well, we were hungry, wasn't we?* franz's attempt at justifying the unjustifiable sounded hollow. but hans was not listening. guilt crept in. and panic.
*that was an properly wrapped parcel with a valid address and customer account number, and we destroyed it. WE! DESTROYED! IT!*, hans' voice went supersonic. as he screamed, treacherous powder sugar droplets flew from the corners of his mouth, cruelly reminding him of the offence he just committed.
*stop panicking!*, franz demanded, though his eyes betrayed his own fear. he took a deep breath. *way i see it, there is only one thing we can do.*
hans laughed out loud. the laugh sounded hard and bitter. *turn ourselves in you mean?*
now it was franz's turn to loose his composure. *turn ourselves in? are you out of your mind, verdammt?? we'll never work as couriers again!* he grabbed hans by his shaking shoulders. his stare fixated hans' face: *listen to me, mein freund. we have to make it look like the parcel got lost.* hans slowly moved his head to return his colleague's gaze. *don't be daft, franz! no-one will believe the parcel got lost. this is germany. things do not get lost in the post here.*
franz slumped back into his seat, deflated, resigned. they were silent for about a minute, each consumed by their own dark thoughts. suddenly, franz jumped up, jumped out of the car and ran towards the back of the van. confused, hans followed. franz opened the winged back door. they stared at the five remaining parcels. then at each other. (hans and franz stared at one another rather a lot, they really liked the look of each other.) in an instant, they both knew what to do.
hans grabbed the parcel nearest to him. he figured it was about the same size as the stollen. franz went back to the front seats to retrieve the remains of the stollen packaging. he had to overcome a considerable unease to even look at the card board box, or what was left of it. when he returned to the back of the van, hans had already removed the address label and delivery note from the other parcel. replacing them with the stollen label and papers was a matter of seconds. they had done this many times before, and their expertise now came to their rescue. they looked at the relabelled parcel, nodded at each other, and closed the van door.
like nothing happened, they drove to the next address on their list: the office of the franfurter rundschau (FR), one of the largest regional papers. when they unloaded the parcel, franz padded hans' back and gave him a wink of encouragement. the receptionist at the FR saw them and fixed her eyes on the parcel.
*this must be the stollen from the dresden colleagues!* she yelled into her headset.
the sun shone beautifully red behind the commerzbank tower when the two couriers got back into their van to complete their delivery run. hans looked at franz:
*i'm thirsty, mann!* their laughter rocked the van as it drove along the brightly lit streets of frankfurt into the sunset.
it had been a good day after all.
THE END
~~~
(and this was the story of how millions of highly confidential and unencrypted customer data sets of the berlin landesbank ended up at a newspaper office, and how the german police launched its biggest-ever investigation into stollen theft. the couriers admitted everything.)
MERRY CHRISTMAS!
~~~
once upon a time in the busy pre-christmas season, there were two men who worked for a large courier company in frankfurt. their names were hans and franz. they were colleagues, and together had made many many deliveries all over frankfurt. after work they often hung out and had a beer or two in their favourite kneipe around the corner.
in the days before christmas, the 2 couriers delivered dozens of stollen every day to lucky people all over the city. stollen wrapped in large parcels and small, some home-made, some fresh from the town of dresden, home of the original stollen. this made hans and franz very hungry. mmmm, the lovely aroma of raisins and powder sugar that wafted out of the parcels! one day, hans did not have time to eat the lunch that his wife would make for him every work day for him to heat up in the canteen microwave. it had been a busy morning, and just returned from a delivery run, he quickly left the depot again with his colleague franz and six parcels to deliver. his evil boss would give him a hard time and call him lazy otherwise - the ultimate insult for a german courier. one of the parcels had the unmistakable and irresistible smell of a stollen. the slightly burnt raisins, the candied orange and lemon peel, the moist dough that was embraced by powder sugar like a blanket of snow... hans felt the big hole in his tummy.
*i'm starving!*, he squealed.
he looked at franz, whose nostrils had also been teased by the stollen. (franz had eaten about six leberwurst sandwiches for lunch, but his expandable gut was never satisfied.) the two couriers looked at each other, then at the stollen parcel... then everything happened really quickly. a quiet side street was found. cardboard was ripped, paper was torn, and an innocent stollen brutally ravaged.
when they woke up from their feeding frenzy after a felt eternity (but which was only about 10 minutes) they each stared into glaring eyes and an open mouth laced with white sugar. franz belched, slinging them back to the here and now, fast.
*what have we done*, hans whispered in a toneless voice. it was not so much a question as a statement.
*well, we were hungry, wasn't we?* franz's attempt at justifying the unjustifiable sounded hollow. but hans was not listening. guilt crept in. and panic.
*that was an properly wrapped parcel with a valid address and customer account number, and we destroyed it. WE! DESTROYED! IT!*, hans' voice went supersonic. as he screamed, treacherous powder sugar droplets flew from the corners of his mouth, cruelly reminding him of the offence he just committed.
*stop panicking!*, franz demanded, though his eyes betrayed his own fear. he took a deep breath. *way i see it, there is only one thing we can do.*
hans laughed out loud. the laugh sounded hard and bitter. *turn ourselves in you mean?*
now it was franz's turn to loose his composure. *turn ourselves in? are you out of your mind, verdammt?? we'll never work as couriers again!* he grabbed hans by his shaking shoulders. his stare fixated hans' face: *listen to me, mein freund. we have to make it look like the parcel got lost.* hans slowly moved his head to return his colleague's gaze. *don't be daft, franz! no-one will believe the parcel got lost. this is germany. things do not get lost in the post here.*
franz slumped back into his seat, deflated, resigned. they were silent for about a minute, each consumed by their own dark thoughts. suddenly, franz jumped up, jumped out of the car and ran towards the back of the van. confused, hans followed. franz opened the winged back door. they stared at the five remaining parcels. then at each other. (hans and franz stared at one another rather a lot, they really liked the look of each other.) in an instant, they both knew what to do.
hans grabbed the parcel nearest to him. he figured it was about the same size as the stollen. franz went back to the front seats to retrieve the remains of the stollen packaging. he had to overcome a considerable unease to even look at the card board box, or what was left of it. when he returned to the back of the van, hans had already removed the address label and delivery note from the other parcel. replacing them with the stollen label and papers was a matter of seconds. they had done this many times before, and their expertise now came to their rescue. they looked at the relabelled parcel, nodded at each other, and closed the van door.
like nothing happened, they drove to the next address on their list: the office of the franfurter rundschau (FR), one of the largest regional papers. when they unloaded the parcel, franz padded hans' back and gave him a wink of encouragement. the receptionist at the FR saw them and fixed her eyes on the parcel.
*this must be the stollen from the dresden colleagues!* she yelled into her headset.
the sun shone beautifully red behind the commerzbank tower when the two couriers got back into their van to complete their delivery run. hans looked at franz:
*i'm thirsty, mann!* their laughter rocked the van as it drove along the brightly lit streets of frankfurt into the sunset.
it had been a good day after all.
THE END
~~~
(and this was the story of how millions of highly confidential and unencrypted customer data sets of the berlin landesbank ended up at a newspaper office, and how the german police launched its biggest-ever investigation into stollen theft. the couriers admitted everything.)
MERRY CHRISTMAS!
posted by SCHNUCKELCHEN at 2:05 pm
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