Chapter 399: The Red Pen List and the ABM Plan

Chapter 399 -44: The Red Pen List and the ABM Plan

Werner pulled a document from his briefcase and pushed it to the center of the table. “First, this is a list I’ve compiled of the internal personnel at the Leipzig Automobile Plant.”

Heinz picked up the document. As he flipped through a few pages, his brow furrowed ever more tightly.

Each name on the list was followed by a detailed annotation:

“Fritz Schmidt, head of the security department. A former informant for the Ministry for State Security who specialized in monitoring ‘dissident’ workers on the shop floor. He reported seventeen people.”

“Herbert Miller, deputy plant manager. In 1987, he secretly resold the plant’s foreign trade raw material quotas, embezzling twenty-three thousand Marks.”

“Gretel Schulz, director of the personnel department. She got the job through her connections in the United Socialist Party. She can’t do any actual work and only knows how to recite newspaper editorials.”

“Erich Vogel, head of the production department. In ’88, he docked all the workers’ bonuses because production targets weren’t met, then took double for himself.”

…

There were a total of two hundred and thirty-six names marked in red on the list.

Heinz looked up, his expression complex. “These people…”

“These are the people the workers hate the most,” Werner said. “You want to make layoffs? Start with them. When the workers see the bureaucrats who lorded it over them get kicked out—while the veteran craftsmen and technical experts on the shop floor get to stay—they won’t just not hate you, they might even applaud.”

He lit another cigarette. “Besides, these people are all administrative types who got their jobs through connections. Firing them won’t affect production. As for the remaining six thousand, I have another way to deal with them.”

“What way is that?” a lawyer asked warily.

“Have you heard of the labor market measures program?” Werner asked. “ABM, for short.”

Heinz nodded. “I’ve heard of it. That’s a program the Federal Employment Agency uses in West Germany to handle short-term unemployment—”

“Correct,” Werner interrupted him. “The program was written into your Labor Promotion Act back in 1969. It was originally designed to cope with cyclical economic fluctuations—when unemployment rises, the government pays to hire the jobless for public service work, preventing them from detaching from the labor market long-term.”

He exhaled a cloud of smoke. “But in West Germany, the program’s scale was always small because your economy is stable and unemployment is low. Things are different now. Over here in East Germany, industry is collapsing. Unemployment will be in the millions. If he wants to avoid social unrest, Prime Minister Kohl’s government will have to expand the ABM program on an unprecedented scale.”

A financial advisor frowned. “But that would require enormous fiscal expenditure—”

“Prime Minister Kohl will foot the bill,” Werner said with conviction. “He promised during his campaign that he would turn East Germany into a ‘blooming landscape.’ Now that the Two Germanys have just unified, he can’t allow mass unemployment and riots in East Germany; that would destabilize the entire unification process. Trust me, the Federal Government will soon allocate an astronomical amount for ABM subsidies. I estimate that by next year, four to five hundred thousand people in East Germany will be simultaneously employed in ABM projects.”

He paused for a moment before continuing. “I’ve already spoken with the Trust Agency and the local governments. I can establish a Labor and Structural Development Company specifically to take on ABM projects. The workers laid off from the auto plant can be placed on my company’s payroll and do public service work—”

“Such as?” Heinz asked.

“Dismantling abandoned factories, cleaning up industrially contaminated sites, painting old buildings, tending to parks and green spaces, providing community elderly care, organizing local archives,” Werner listed, ticking them off. “These are all non-profit jobs that benefit society and fall under the ABM’s rules for funding.”

“And their wages?” a lawyer asked. “Where will they come from?”

“Government subsidies,” Werner said. “According to ABM regulations, the Federal Employment Agency will pay these workers eighty to ninety percent of their original wages for a period of two to three years. During that time, they can attend vocational training to learn new skills like computing, accounting, and sales, or simply wait for other job opportunities to arise. For you, six thousand people vanish from the plant’s roster, and you only have to manage the remaining two thousand. For the workers, even though they’ve left the auto plant, they’re not just thrown out onto the street. They’ll still have a position, still draw a salary, and have a buffer period.”

The conference room fell silent for a moment.

Heinz consulted with a few of his advisors in hushed tones, then asked, “What about the company’s social responsibilities? The kindergartens, clinics, convalescent homes, and so on?”

“I’ll take them over,” Werner said. “I will establish a non-profit foundation to spin these facilities off from the factory. They will either be handed over to the local government to operate or be managed by my foundation. For you, it means shedding a heavy burden. For the workers, their children can still go to kindergarten and they still have a clinic for medical care. They won’t feel like their entire lives have been destroyed.”

A lawyer, flipping through the documents, asked, “Mr. Werner, your proposal… is certainly very constructive. But, if you’ll pardon my asking, what’s in it for you?”

Werner smiled.

“A fifteen percent equity stake,” he said. “And in the future, my trading company gets priority supply of the auto parts produced by the Leipzig Plant, and I’ll be responsible for selling them in the East German market.”

The conference room fell silent again.

Heinz and his advisors exchanged glances. One of the financial advisors whispered, “Fifteen percent… that’s a bit high.”

“It’s not high,” Werner said, leaning back in his chair. “Do the math. If the workers strike and the plant shuts down for a month, how much will you lose? If the union organizes protests and you end up in *Der Spiegel* or the *World Newspaper*, how much damage will that do to your brand’s reputation? If negotiations drag on for six months and you miss your window of opportunity in the East German market, what’s the opportunity cost?”

He flicked the ash from his cigarette. “I’m saving you from all that trouble. I’m handling the workers, the union, and the local government to give you a clean plant. Fifteen percent equity is not a high price to pay.”

Heinz was silent for a moment before finally nodding. “I’ll need to report this to headquarters, but personally, I believe this plan is viable.”

“Then it’s settled,” Werner said, standing up and extending his hand.

Heinz took his hand and shook it firmly.

Werner released his hand and said, “By the way, Heinz, I suggest you don’t show your faces at the plant for the next few days.”

“Why?”

“When I go talk to the workers in a few days, it’s best if you aren’t present,” Werner said. “The moment you open your mouths, they’ll hear your West German accents. Then you’ll start talking about ‘optimizing resource allocation’ and ‘increasing labor productivity,’ and the workers will just get angry. They’ll think you’re here to exploit them. When I talk to them, they’ll at least know I’m an East German, that I worked within the system, and that I’ve even helped dissidents. They’ll feel like I’m on their side.”

Heinz hesitated. “But—”

“Trust me,” Werner said, patting his shoulder. “I’ve been working on this side for nearly thirty years. I’ve seen it all. Let me do the talking. You’ll get the plant, I guarantee it, and the workers won’t make a fuss.”