You can't always get what you want

Look closely at my Berlin graph over there, the one with the 'x' axis labelled money and 'y' axis reality. See it? Now, you'll notice the graph line, declaring a gentle slope, running left to right, and downwards. Definitely down.

Since landing in Berlin about 8 weeks ago I've lived in a blissed-out state of perpetual hyper-reality, where everything through my gleeful eyes is exciting and immediate, drunkenly grinning at the shock of the new with stupid, childish awe. I've spent two months floating around the city ringed with a visceral golden glow. 

Not unlike the Ready Brek kid. In fact, exactly like the Ready Brek kid.

Me, on an average day in Berlin

But the money I begged, borrowed and saved to make the Great Escape is dwindling, pouring down the hungry drain of, mainly, booze and furniture! A cold, sharp, grey light is quickly eviscerating the fuzzy brilliance.

So, I really only had one terrible option left; find a job.

Now, my background and career (such that it is) has for the past decade been spent in political campaigning and community/union organising. So, a few weeks before moving, I emailed a bunch of excellent Berlin union and Green Party (die Grünen) folk, friends of friends, with a keen eye on seamlessly continuing my campaigning career (!) in my new, progressive home.

And there's the problem. Like someone peering over your shoulder and pointing out the black '10' on the red Queen, I feel a bit silly for only just realising. 

Whereas a lot of the British in Berlin are expanding stellar careers in online or digital technology, an industry where English is pretty much the sole, shared language, my background is in person-to-person campaigning, organising communities and engaging with the political process at a grassroots level.

And to organise people and communities, communication is pretty central; communication, ideally, without the need for confusing hand gestures and Google translate!

So, of course, my plan was completely unrealistic. Did I really think I could mooch on into Berlin, speaking not one word German, nor knowing one person, and expect a job in German politics to fall into my lap? Of course not. Well, maybe a little bit of me closed its eyes and wished really, really hard.

But, as part of the Berlin masterplan, in August 2014 I undertook a month-long intensive TEFL (teaching English as a foreign language) course, in order to give me an actual skill to exploit once here.

So I arrived in Berlin, waving this TEFL qualification, clutched tightly in my little hand, wondering which of the many English teaching colleges in the city would be the lucky one to first offer me a job. But, bewilderingly, the queue for my teaching services is as remarkable in its absence as the offers from the Berlin political world.

The teaching career, I think, is going to take a while to build...

All this is a round-the-houses way of saying that last week I started my first part-time minimum wage job since I left casual employment over 10 years ago. You know. For a 'real' job!

My wonderful flatmate took great pity on me and set me to work in the warehouse of the children's clothing company he works for – Kirondo.

It ain't a bad job – there are certainly much worse out there– and I'm certainly very grateful. And, even working just 9-3, Monday to Friday, on minimum wage, I think can pretty much live quite comfortably in this cheapest of capital cities. 

(By the way, paying minimum wage really is your boss letting you know that if they could pay you less, they definitely would!)

Working part-time will also let me, in the afternoons, evenings and weekends, build my teaching work and experience, which is very much what I eventually would like to do in Berlin. 

Brian Roberts is my role model, here.

Also, importantly, if you earn over about 450 EURO a month here then your employer is legally obliged to pay your health insurance (no NHS here!).

So, in the end, here's the upshot: I work with lovely people in a decent enough job – where, importantly, not speaking German isn't much of an issue - that lets me listen to 6 hours of new albums or podcasts every shift, working part-time that gives me over half of each day to myself to write and play, pays for my health insurance, while allowing me to fairly comfortably live and booze in Berlin with consummate elegance and depravity. Which, ultimately, was why I moved here in the first place.

Turns out Jagger was right: you can't always get what you want, but, right now, I find I've got what I need.

Take it away, Mick.