All Chapters of On The Verge Of Desperation: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

In contrast to the employment office for white-collar workers, everyone here was afflicted with some kind of academic title. So Mr. Doctor So-and-so, or Mr. Magister, also Mr. Diplom-Ingenieur or Ms. Diplom-Kauffrau, was called over the loudspeaker. Of course, there were no noisy children or other troublemakers and certainly not wild tattoos, at least not publicly visible, as he saw. Because he could easily imagine that the busty, slim, slim young Magistra, in her sexy shiny black leather costume, sitting across from him, somewhere on her tight body, might already have a small tattoo. The atmosphere was much better here. Everything was modern and not as neglected as in the old building where it was before.

Two days later he was with his counselor at the employment office, where he had to keep an appointment. Apparently it was very important to the consultant to get him excited about a course. In which he could refresh his IT skills and indulge in the group dynamics that are associated with it. The consultant arranged the matter so cleverly that Robert realized that further IT training might offer additional opportunities for a job. 

By pure chance during a radio broadcast, Robert once found out that a company was looking for a sales representative. He applied and then could hardly believe it, he was even hired. It was a smaller company that had been in the market for a long time. So far, however, has never been able to achieve a significant market position. The pay was average, he started with a small salary. Just a little more than he got from the employment office. But, he thought, in the future in the job through performance, he would be able to earn a lot more.

Clara's flight depressed him very much, but on the other hand he already understood the motive for it, only he wasn't sure about what? You actually ran away. About the circumstances? Before him personally? He also didn't know when he would ever see her again, there was no fixed date, just vague guesses. In the evening he sat all alone in the living room, had made tea and wanted to distract himself with a book, although he had difficulty concentrating on it at all. When suddenly, almost relievingly, the doorbell rang. At first he was shocked because, as i

It just has to be over with becoming careless and running around like the last cowhand. So, off, with the three day beards, wrinkled sweaters and only baggy jeans. Take off the expensive things, you still have enough of them in the closet. After all, he also knew that older semesters actually only score with a very well-groomed appearance, according to the motto: clothes make the man. In terms of figure, he had no problems anyway, apart from the slight affluence around his waist, he actually looked quite acceptable for his age, as he found himself very self-critical. When he compared himself with his peers, who sometimes served as models, the caricatures in some nasty drawings by contemporary caricaturists, he actually got off very well.