Chapter 401: The Disappearing Iron Rice Bowl

The crowd below had fallen silent.

Werner walked to the edge of the stage, lit a cigarette, and took a deep drag. “I know you hate the West Germans. But hate won’t solve anything. The West Germans have money, technology, and market channels. We need those things now. Instead of letting them carve us up like a colony, it’s better to let someone like me, who knows the rules, negotiate a decent deal for you.”

“I’ve worked in Berlin for nearly thirty years. I’ve seen all sorts of people and been through all sorts of things.” He smiled. “But I’ve never forgotten that I’m an East German too. I know what you’re thinking, and I know what you’re afraid of. That’s why I came—to shield you from some of the fallout.”

Someone in the crowd shouted, “So what’s in it for you?”

Werner didn’t sidestep the question. “A fifteen percent stake, plus the distribution rights for the parts.”

A stir went through the crowd. Some people started cursing under their breath.

“But let me tell you,” Werner raised his voice, “I’m not taking this to get rich. I’m taking this stake because I need that money to build the charitable foundation and to run the kindergarten and the clinic. I’m taking the distribution rights because I’m going to use my channels in East Germany to help you laid-off workers find new jobs.”

He stubbed out his cigarette. “You don’t have to believe me. But do you believe the trust agency? Do you believe those West German bureaucrats? They’ll just run the numbers on their calculators, and when they’re done, they’ll wash their hands of this place and walk away. Do they care if you live or die?”

“I’m different.” Werner looked out at the crowd. “I’m going to stay in East Germany. I’m going to keep doing business here. If I screw you over today, how am I supposed to get by here tomorrow? Who would dare work with me then?”

The crowd fell silent again.

An older worker stood up, his voice trembling slightly. “Comrade Betelich… I’ve worked at this plant for thirty-two years. My son was born in the company kindergarten, my wife is a nurse at the company clinic. I’ve never left this plant my whole life. Can you really save the kindergarten and the clinic?”

Werner looked at him and nodded gravely. “I guarantee it. As soon as I get that fifteen percent stake, the very first funds will be used to take over these facilities.”

“Then… then I believe you.” The old worker sat down, wiping the corner of his eye.

A few more people stood up.

“Comrade Werner, that training program… is the government really paying for it?”

“It is,” Werner said. “The Federal Labor Office will provide the funding. I’m just in charge of organizing and implementing it.”

“What can we learn?”

“Computer skills, bookkeeping, sales techniques, forklift operation, home appliance repair—whatever’s practical,” Werner said. “Supermarkets, factories, and service industries over in West Germany are all hiring. Once you learn a new skill, you won’t have to worry about finding a job in the future.”

The atmosphere in the hall had clearly eased.

Werner struck while the iron was hot. “Comrades, I won’t lie to you. When the West Germans come, life definitely won’t be as comfortable as before. It used to be an iron rice bowl—you got paid the same whether you worked hard or not. Now, you’ll have to rely on your own skills to make a living. The factory used to take care of everything, but now you’ll have to worry about a lot of things yourselves.”

“But,” he paused, “before, we earned East German Marks. Three hundred, five hundred a month. It took years of saving just to buy a television. Now, you’ll get West German Marks, exchanged one-to-one. Prices have gone up, sure, but the supermarkets have everything. No queues, no ration tickets. If you want to buy something, you just buy it.”

“Before, if we wanted to go see West Berlin, we had to risk getting shot by the Border Guard while climbing the wall,” Werner said. “And now? You just take the subway over and wander around as you please.”

“The world has changed, Comrades.” He looked at the silent faces in the crowd. “We have to change with it.”

Someone from the crowd shouted, “So what exactly do you want us to do?”

Werner took a deep breath. “My recommendation is to accept the acquisition by Volkswagen. But not unconditionally. Accept it based on the three conditions I just outlined.”

“As for the union, I’ll talk to them and get them to agree to this proposal. The trust agency is already settled. Volkswagen has also agreed.” He scanned the entire hall. “Now it’s up to you.”

“If you agree, I’ll go sign the papers tomorrow and start the layoff and placement procedures immediately. If you don’t agree, I’ll walk out of here right now. You can negotiate with the West Germans yourselves, or just wait for the factory to go bankrupt.”

A commotion broke out in the audience.

Someone yelled, “Let the union vote!”

“Yeah! A vote! He can’t be the only one to decide!”

Werner nodded. “Fine. A union vote it is. All those in favor of accepting the acquisition under the terms I’ve negotiated, raise your hands.”

The crowd was silent for a few seconds.

The air seemed to freeze.

Then, a few hands went up, scattered here and there.

Then more hands went up.

In the end, most of the people in the auditorium had raised their hands. Although some still sat with grim faces, their arms crossed, the matter was settled.

Werner breathed a sigh of relief and nodded. “Good. Then it’s settled. I’ll sign the contract tomorrow, and we’ll start implementation the day after.”

He paused, then added, “In the next few days, the union will release the list of laid-off personnel, as well as the registration process for the ABM program. If you have any problems, you can go to the union, or you can come to me. I’ll be staying at the Leipzig Grand Hotel for three days. I’ll be in the lobby from 2 to 5 p.m. every afternoon. Anyone with questions can come find me.”

“Meeting adjourned.”

***************

It was already after five in the afternoon when he walked out of the auditorium.

The April weather in Leipzig was still a bit chilly. The setting sun stained the factory smokestacks a dark red.

Werner stood at the factory gate and lit a cigarette.

An old worker with graying hair walked over and patted him on the shoulder. “Comrade Betelich, thank you.”

Werner smiled. “Don’t thank me. Just work hard. Don’t let my guarantee go to waste.”

The old worker nodded, turned, and walked away, his back slightly hunched.

Werner watched his retreating figure and slowly exhaled a puff of smoke.

He knew this was just the beginning.

After the Leipzig Automobile Plant, there would be more factories, more negotiations, more deals.

The big corporations from West Germany were all eyeing this juicy piece of meat that was East Germany, but they didn’t understand the rules here. They didn’t understand the people, or the tangled web of personal relationships and emotional baggage.

They needed a foot in the door.

And he, Werner, was the most useful foot in the door they could find—

He understood the ways of East Germany, had a background in the Department of Commercial Coordination, and had a reputation for “helping dissidents,” which earned him the trust of the East German workers. At the same time, he had connections in West Germany, understood the rules of the market economy, and could speak the language of the West German corporations.

Most importantly, he stood in the middle. Neither side trusted him completely, but both sides needed him.

He stubbed out his cigarette and got into the car.

The driver asked, “Where to, Mr. Werner?”

“Back to the hotel,” Werner said. “I have meetings with two more West German companies tonight. One is Opel, which wants to acquire the automobile plant in Eisenach. The other is Unilever, which wants to buy the soap factory in Dresden.”

The driver started the car. “You’re a busy man.”

“Can’t be helped.” Werner leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. “The time is now. It’s an opportunity that won’t come again.”

The car drove out of the factory complex and into the gray twilight of Leipzig.

The billboards along the road were already covered in ads for West German products—Coca-Cola, McDonald’s, Procter & Gamble, Siemens.

Those once-familiar East German brands—Vita Cola, Spreewald Gherkins, Rotk?ppchen sparkling wine—had either vanished or been pushed into a corner.

This was the price of reunification.

Some gained freedom and prosperity; others lost their jobs and their dignity.