On this occasion, once again a photo of the week. Light fare for in between, so to speak. Looking back over the last, let's say, 25 years, I can think of quite a few people from my environment who have had, how do I put it best? Let's call it cautiously "disagreements" with the justice system. I don't claim to be one iota better. But maybe I didn't get caught.
I would be inclined to say that it was only my business environment, but that would be a lie. Besides, the boundaries are rather fluid for me. And what relationships have developed from many a business partnership. I wouldn't want to miss any of them.
I worked with Alfons Schuhbeck around the turn of the century, I guess. Probably at the end of the nineties, because that was definitely still with my second company before I gradually left. Shit, I'm old. Originally a rental company for event technology, it quickly became a company that managed entire events for thousands of guests or events lasting several weeks. On tour every weekend from Friday noon to Monday morning. In between, when the event is on, standing at the bar in the Irish Pub / Steak House - at that time I was not yet living vegan, on the contrary. Greetings go out to Dani & Axel, thanks for a great time in my life and valuable experiences - working in the computer shop during the week - which I was allowed to take over as commissioner for half a year due to a terrible accident of the manager - slash what alternative would there have been back then? Nobody knew anything about the stuff. The countless black sheep fell on their faces one after the other and the few good ones had their own flourishing business. My girlfriend at the time lived in Munich, I lived in Herzogenaurach, 200 km to the north, where I also hosted a cooking show on local TV. You don't think so? Well, take a look here. Spoiler, it's twenty years ago, no 4k and all that. It's probably better that way, when I look at the clothes I wore back then. Wink smiley.
Oh, that's right, there were also two degree programmes. I dropped out of my computer science degree at the FAU in Erlangen after my intermediate diploma because it didn't interest me. If I ever went to university at all, I probably spent more time in the café than in the lecture hall. I win that bet. My event management company also organised university parties. I later graduated with a degree in business studies. Because, yes, I have no idea why I studied again. Because I expected it to be expected. The only training I actually need for my job is to become a TÜVSüd-certified data protection officer (DSB). Not because I couldn't do without it, but because I wasn't allowed to. But I already had ALS when I started that. Material for another story.
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I remember one event with rather mixed feelings. First, the sound pressure of our PA system was too high for the ceiling elements in the cafeteria. Such a big thing came down and, of course, party guests were standing underneath it. Imagine dancing there unsuspectingly and suddenly the ceiling falls down. One of the guests had to receive emergency medical treatment. Unfortunately, I can't say that everyone got off lightly. But it could have been worse. Sick performance. Small consolation for us, we always did continuous sound pressure measurements at such events. It was close, but we were never louder than the university's structural engineer specified. It was probably just bad luck for everyone. And seriously, the university is not necessarily the newest and most modern building. Who knows when the ceiling elements were last inspected. In my gym, a part like that came down once. Not during a theatre performance, though, but at night. And we had whole phallanxes of spotlights screwed to them at performance times. They had to go somewhere. It was almost as glorious as drilling into a power line that supplied the auditorium with electricity. So long, at least. That wasn't me, by the way. I was only told that we shouldn't smoke the joint in the school building, but outside. Yeah, no, it was planned anyway, otherwise everyone would want some and there would be nothing left for us.
In contrast, the second story of the evening was almost funny again. Well, at least from today's perspective. What junk trucks we had back then. On the one hand, I love to drive anything that is fast and/or big. On the other hand, I find it more sexy when I don't have the feeling that the boat is about to fall apart. But what are you going to do? We didn't have any money, we were always at the limit. Our first PA cost DM 21,000 at the time. Which we didn't have. But we needed the system for a job. Sound reinforcement for a football field. Open air. With a lot of persuasion, I was able to convince my banker to increase my overdraft facility and my credit card limit with my personal promise that the charge would not be cancelled. The plan was actually really ingenious. We bought the equipment on credit with my personal credit card. After the event, we returned the equipment as part of the accommodating right of return granted by the dealer included in the plan. Just in time for the credit to post on the credit card just before the monthly credit card statement. A week later, that was the deal with the seller, we bought "our" system as a return, "B-goods", because it was second-hand. We would never have been able to afford such a purchase at the list price. Nor would the seller have been able to sell it at the list price. It's a bit like cars today. The car dealer makes a one-day registration, drives around the block twice and the S4 costs only 75 instead of 88k. Isn't it beautiful? As far as I know, it's the only one that can be completely manoeuvred with your hands.
Back then, we were neither so chic nor so safe on the road. And it was the same for our partners in the industry, without whom nothing works in the event business. No matter what kind of transport you were driving, you were lucky if you didn't lose a tyre on the way. The desire for these carts was somewhat, well, restrained.
Unfortunately, not everyone is allowed to drive 22.5 tonnes, so who's going to get stuck with it? I apologise to my old school for the rain gutter. With an additional two-axle trailer on an already overloaded truck, it's just not that easy. Overloaded, good keyword. Erlangen. University party over. In the midst of all the confusion, I stopped by at another event. As a manager, they expect to see you. And rarely did we have only one event per weekend. Anyway, back in time to dismantle. Material packed up. One load after the other was brought down in the freight lift to the delivery zone of the refectory in the basement. There stood our trucks. Full of luxury. When you drive in, it feels like you're going two metres downhill, so that when you roll backwards you think you're going to touch down with the lift at any moment. But you are rewarded with practically ground-level loading from the loading ramp directly into the truck. And in the dry, too, even though it's pouring like hell. That's worth a lot when everyone is already on the verge of exhaustion and no one really wants to do any physical work. You can't drink that much Red Bull, even if there are pallets of it next to you. And at some point you finally make it anyway. All the vans full to the ceiling. Upper edge of the lower jaw. Quite the end of the day. All that's left to do is drive to the location, take in the stock, neatly fold up kilometres of cables - especially fun with 163 A three-phase cables that feel like they weigh a tonne - and store everything neatly before you go on to the next job in a few hours.
So much for the theory. If only there weren't those damnable two metres in altitude that you not only had to come down yesterday afternoon, but stupidly had to come back up now. What can I say? I have no idea how many men, women and divers we ended up pushing. Not a chance. That's it, game over. You just can't do anything that steep uphill. So we unloaded all the shit again, pushed the shitbox up the hill, rolled the material up, loaded everything back in. Those are moments when you seriously ask yourself why you're doing this to yourself. It doesn't matter that it's your own company. You would like to pour petrol over the truck and burn everything down.
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I would not always have liked to turn up the volume. In the ominous hotel production, there was not only cooking, but also singing. While the second star guest, Michael Schanze, was quite famous for his musical interludes in the TV programme "Kinderquatsch mit Michael", which everyone knows, how can I say, Alfons, you are a gifted host, cook, creator and businessman. It is good that you have stayed on this path.
It was such a tricky job for us anyway. I happened to know the hotel manager personally since childhood through my father. The Hotel Herzogspark was previously world-famous as the adidas sports hotel. Everyone who was anyone went there. Then as now. From David Hasselhoff to the German football team. They were all there. And in the middle of it all, the little Paddy boy. It was amazing how tall David Hasselhoff was when I sat on his lap. I'll ask my parents if they can still find the pictures from back then.
It was not only the hotel chef who was well known to me. The highly paid chef was my regular in the pub. He liked to bring the best truffles or hearts that money could buy. With that, he would disappear into our tiny kitchen and work his magic. Ever since that day, I've had a soft spot for awesome truffles. All the truffle oil and stuff that is usually sold as truffles is for the bin. Honestly. Well, in any case, everything had to go smoothly because of him. And the customers in this case, and the whole constellation, took some getting used to.
If someone had told me back then that shortly afterwards I would take an incredibly fascinating woman, well actually a minor, out of her Munich boarding school for girls to rent an attic flat with her in Munich's Westendstraße, I probably wouldn't have believed them. The fact that her father is a highly respected lawyer doesn't necessarily make it easier. But maybe I would learn at some point that I had at least known her stepfather for many years. He was also known beyond the city limits. After all, he had been running the only 5-star hotel far and wide for years, where, apart from our national football team, Alfons Schuhbeck could also be found. And by underage, I didn't mean that my girlfriend had just turned 14. But maybe she had just turned 14.
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And I only came up with all this nonsense because my dad read in Bild that Alfons had to go to prison. I immediately remembered this photo, which is almost exactly five years old. That was in 2017, in October. The first symptoms of my ALS were already showing. Climbing stairs in particular caused me problems in everyday life. Nevertheless, I have fond memories of that time too.
