Günther Frey (68) has been a pensioner for almost three years. Actually. For fear of poverty in old age, he is out and about with the bottle fishing rod every day. And faces increasingly unfriendly competition.
A few years ago, I imagined my life in old age to be something like this: sleeping in, having a leisurely breakfast, going for a walk. Maybe even go on vacation. It doesn’t have to be Mallorca, the Steigerwald or Erzgebirge would also be okay. I haven’t been away for almost 20 years and when you’re old, if you’ve worked for almost 50 years, you should be able to afford something like that. I thought.
Next year I’ll be 69 and on a normal weekday I’ll often be out by seven. Sometimes by bike, sometimes on foot, across Karlsruhe. I always have the bottle fishing rod with me, not just so that I don’t have to put my hands in the trash can. It also gives me better access to bottles behind fences and in bushes. Containers are no longer an option, they have been redesigned for some time: You would have to pull the bottles out vertically with a fishing rod, so to speak, you could do it horizontally in the past. No one can do it vertically.
When the change came and the city transitioned to the new system, some of us got nervous. I as well. How should this continue? I was told by others that I would not be starving myself. On the one hand that’s true. And yet I feel relieved with every beer bottle I find for 8 cents, with every yoghurt or milk glass for 15 cents and with disposable cans and bottles for even 25 cents. It makes a difference whether you always get the bread packaged from the discount store. Or sometimes at the bakery. With all the stresses that are coming, I also know that if the old washing machine gives up the ghost now of all times, a new one can come along.
First Corona, then the war in Ukraine: Everything is getting more expensive. I still treat myself to something here and there. Liver sausage from the butcher, sometimes a coffee out. I can still get by with my pension of around 1100 euros, at least most of the time. But there are already months when I have to go to my reserve. I always try to have 500 euros on the side, if it is less, I sleep badly. Because what if electricity costs and food prices keep going up at this rate? And what if, for example, the rent is increased or the car breaks down? Or all at once? Man, that’s a truism, but that’s exactly what drives me: If you have 100 euros, you can only spend 99. Woe you spend 101. This can be the beginning of the end. You just have to look around. You can find examples everywhere.
And everywhere there are people who know everything better: it’s not worth it, for only three to five euros to spend a whole morning in the dirt, they say. Yes it does. I should rather look for something else, I often hear that too. As if it were that easy! Sometimes I go to markets on the weekends, selling wicker and cleaning supplies. But with a space fee of eight euros per meter, that’s a risk. And if Corona comes across again, you’re stuck with the goods.
Porter at the hotel, I would like that! And they’re always looking for people. But as soon as I introduced myself, I felt: They won’t give you a chance. Why? Because I’m too fat? Too old? I don’t know, people are full of prejudices. The stain on the T-shirt is perhaps the smaller problem. I’m uneducated, that’s enough for many below. When I recently volunteered for the referendum, it was similar. They wouldn’t need anyone anymore, it said in the rejection letter. After that they kept looking.
Of course it hurts. On the other hand, there have been many disappointments in my life. As an illegitimate child, I was considered the eyesore of the family. My stepfather was violent, but stepfathers often are. And mothers who become unemployed are not uncommon either. I’m not the only one – I keep telling myself that. The world is against me? You have to be careful with that! I know enough people who are like that. Who at some point just hang around and drink. Poverty in old age is much more common than you might think.
After school I did an apprenticeship as a baker and was still plagued by bad luck: in the last year of my apprenticeship, hot apricot jam ran down my arm, of all things. I was ill for three months, and that was the end of my degree. Later I worked as a laborer in a factory. And then as a barracks man. Even then, the many carelessly thrown away bottles and cans bothered me. At first you just put the stuff away, at some point it has become a leisure activity. When my mother died, with whom I continued to live, it felt good to have a purpose.
Collecting bottles brings not only money, but also structure. For the time after I was no longer needed as a barracks attendant, that was a blessing. I’m not one of those people who enjoy staring at the wall for 80 percent of the original salary! I’m further out every morning. Fresh air, exercise. I never had any major health problems, and loneliness was never an issue either. I get around, start a conversation, would that be the case otherwise? For example, there is Renate, an elderly lady, she has the castle garden. Or the Romanian, whose name I don’t know, who’s doing the area next to it. After a few bars of small talk, everyone goes their separate ways. Ways that work according to unspoken rules, no one wants to get in the way of the other. At least none of us.
All in all, the climate has recently become noticeably rougher and especially after warm nights when there were parties, it becomes clear how the gap between rich and poor is widening. Bottles everywhere. Abandoned carelessly by those who obviously don’t need it. And eagerly picked up by others who recently felt like turtles crawling out of the holes, old people, young people, pensioners, college dropouts maybe… never before have there been so many. Everyone wants to be first these days. What do you want there? is it [called. Or: leave me alone. I didn’t do anything to them. I hate arguments, hate competition, which is why I start even earlier than usual. I often go to the suburbs, it’s quieter there. Bottles are everywhere. In wealthy cities like Munich, you can even find them at tram stops.
I was there the other day, my cousin had died. As usual, I had my bottle fishing rod with me. Munich is a rich city, there is a lot on offer, but there is also a correspondingly high demand. I was careful, everywhere people finally have to share the cake that has become smaller. Don’t stress, I said to myself, you didn’t come to work. The day was correspondingly relaxed. Especially at the end when I went to a discount store where nobody knew me. A dream.
The fear of the shop ban always resonates, something like this has happened to many. I’ve been lucky so far. In order not to let it come to that, I make sure that I don’t block the vending machine, I let the other customers through. The most I had was €150. Sure, you stand there for a while. Lidl has made provisions in the meantime, so the note comes out automatically at 15 €. Because I don’t want to go to the checkout with several slips of paper, I prefer to drop off the empties in different shops. Kaufland. mix market. Better to make the way to the outskirts than risk the evil eye. Or, what is almost worse: pity.
If people want to hand me money, I refuse. Being needy is the last thing I want. But I was happy to take the trolley that a friend gave me the other day. Before the bottles came in a shoulder bag, now I pull them. As is the case with soon to be 69, you have your little ailments and lately the shoulder has reported more often.
Yes, I do believe that I can go on like this for quite a while, with the little cart and other things. You always have to see what you have. Mallorca will probably stay far away and even the Steigerwald. In return I have health, enough to eat and evenings when I can go to bed relatively carefree.
