Love Is Pink!

Underneath those words hung a stainless-steel sign:



D. R. Architectural Office

Keep. Renew. Reinvigorate.



We walked into a big lobby, in the middle of which was a huge rug featuring the same company motto. Behind a stylish glass table sat a chic but simply clad older woman typing with two fingers while eating a Christmas cookie.

“There you are, David. Finally!” she said, not sounding upset. “Dr. Stieglitz is already getting restless. He has that very special look in his eye—you know what I mean.”

David smiled apologetically. “Perhaps he’ll forgive me one more time.”

With that, it became clear. David was obviously the janitor. He was well-liked, people found him endearing, and he was allowed to get away with certain things.

“Oh, I’m being rude,” David continued. “Michelle, may I introduce you to Marianne? Marianne is . . .” David turned to her. “What exactly do you do here?”

“You can see what I do, all right—I eat Christmas cookies!” She got up, wiped off some crumbs, and extended her hand. “David has already told me about you.”

“Really?” I said. I wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing.

“Marianne, could we leave the dog here up front, do you think?” David asked.

I added, “We even have his blanket with us. He’ll lie on it, and I’m sure he won’t move from his spot. We’ll take him with us when we leave, obviously.”

“Of course,” Marianne said. “I couldn’t deny David anything around Christmas, now could I? But the dog doesn’t bite—or have fleas?”

I had to laugh, especially because Marianne, while talking, started to pet Baby and feed him cookies. I spread out the blanket. Baby took his place and wagged his tail at Marianne, who unceremoniously emptied the whole bag of cookies in front of him.

The three of us went down a short hallway and wound up in an open-plan office. Black ornamental pillars held up the vaulted ceilings. The entire room was brightly lit. Drawing boards, models of buildings, plans. In between was a seemingly endless sea of glass-and-stainless-steel desks with computers on them. Next to a professionally decorated Christmas tree, approximately three dozen employees stood around an older man in a custom-made Italian suit.

As the man noticed David, Marianne, and me approaching, he gave us a harsh look, coughed indignantly, and then took the microphone. “Now that we’re finally all here, I would like to take the opportunity to open this year’s Christmas party.”

“Dr. Stieglitz is really in a bad mood,” David whispered to Marianne. Even though he spoke softly, at least a few colleagues standing next to us heard him. They smiled stealthily.

Again, Dr. Stieglitz gave us a punishing look and cleared his throat. I secretly planned on personally apologizing to David’s boss during the course of the evening. I’d also accept all of the blame for our delay. I didn’t want the sourpuss to strike the few extra peanuts that David would receive in Christmas money.

“We can look back on a good year,” he said. “In the past twelve years we’ve planned, attacked, and completed many important and demanding large projects throughout all of Europe—and not just projects concerned with landmark preservation. Our profits have nearly doubled. This calendar year was the most successful one in our company’s history. And we owe it all to one man. Our boss, David Rottmann. Dear David, even though you arrived late—as always—I ask that you come over here and say a few words.”

Dr. Stieglitz raised the microphone and tipped it in our direction. I turned around to check if someone standing behind us was, by chance, also called David Rottmann. There was no one. I could see Baby on his blanket in the reception area. He’d probably devoured his Christmas cookies and was now sleeping soundly.

The audience applauded. David smiled, and, to my great surprise, he moved toward Dr. Stieglitz and took the microphone. He put his free arm over Dr. Stieglitz’s shoulders. The latter looked pleased.

“It’s true. I’m late as usual, and our own Dr. Stieglitz—our dear Andreas—is too modest, as always. As he does every year, he’s made a tremendous effort in planning this year’s party. And, for that reason, I don’t want to speak too long. It’s because of this that we’ve been so successful. You’ve all given more than your best, in all endeavors. I think it’s cool to work in a community of such talented and creative coworkers. For that, I thank each and every one of you. And before we start kicking up our heels: the buffet is open. And your work assignment for today is: no leftovers and not a word about business.”

Again, thunderous applause. The employees encircled David. Everyone seemed to want to shake his hand, hug him, or kiss him on the cheek.

I turned to Marianne. “David is the boss here?”

“What did you think?