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«Hi mum, wonderfully. Yourselves there, is everything okay? What are you doing today?»
«All is well here. Nothing major: I am making the pizza dough for tonight’s celebrations, your father has gone to the canal. He went out at 7:30 this morning and I haven’t seen him since.»
«You mean, nothing major for your standards but, just out of curiosity, what celebrations are on tonight?»
«Here in Alberbhüttel it’s the Patron Saint’s Day. Last year we went there and found out that everyone cooks something and brings it to the square to share with the fellow villagers. We didn’t know and went down bare-handed. Between one tankard and another, at the end of the evening, they got us to promise to make pizza for everybody for the following year.»
«That explains it all» I add. «I didn’t know anything about this lovely German celebration; it reminds me of San Faustino’s Day, with the difference that here we don’t share homemade food and knock it down less beer»
«Yes, Brando, it is similar to San Faustino’s celebration. Here on the Kiel canal each town has its own annual festival and everyone puts in a lot of energy preparing their own festival. They are spread out through the months and the inhabitants of the neighbouring towns, come to other people’s celebrations, so the town square is overflooded with people coming from three or four towns. Beer flows in large quantities for sure.»
«Some sort of an alcoholic exchange» I interrupt.
«Just think that our neighbours, those who live in the other town at ten km from here, Beringfeld, have designed some sort of a beer distribution system to go with the pizza. Something done properly: they dug five metres deep and they run the pipes under the cobblestone. Every three metres they placed some kind of a yellow hydrant, which is a real tap as an actual fact.»
«These Teutonic traditions don’t seem bad at all: I didn’t know that. Anyway, after one year, do these people still remember this, which was furthermore agreed upon after gulping down a few litres of beer?»
«I told you: they care about that a lot. I have been asked more or less the same question for the last year or so by everybody I was bumping into. “Are you making pizza with pepperoni and frankfurters, right?“»
«I see. So, the hype is virtually sky-high. Anyway, how many pizzas do you have to make? Isn’t dad helping you?»
«Of course, he is!» she said. «Well, we are going to make some. We talked about that last night, to recap all the ingredients: we decided to make thirty-six.»
«It sounds like a fair amount, bearing in mind that everybody else will bring something, I would say that thirty-six pizzas are enough» I reply. «It is hard work, though.»
«I meant thirty-six metres, Brando.»
«Woh» I reply a bit confused. «Is pizza measured by the metre in northern Germany?»
«Yes, it seems to be. Even if you go to a pizzeria, the waiters consider it as a unit of measurement: if you ask for two capricciosa pizzas, they will bring you two metres of it, you don’t need to say anything else. So last night dad organized some bonfires in the garden. He marked six areas measuring 1m high and 7m length and put some big rocks he got at the canal all along their perimeters. At each corner, he drove a steel pole with a hole on top into the ground; then he got Birger to make some trays which are 6m long and 60cm wide. The trays have two steel bars at the far end which are slotted in the poles.»
«Yes, mum, I am starting to get a better picture of the situation and I do realize that nothing much is happening there, today too. Sorry but how long are the poles? What are you going to put then on the six areas?» I ask staring at the wall beyond the screen. Then all of a sudden I felt enlightened. «Yes, of course! Six areas measuring six metres each equal to thirty-six metres of pizza: got it!»
«Yes Brando, it is like military operations: everything is organized down to a tee. The poles are fifty centimetre high and the ovens will be overflowing with charcoal.»
«Charcoal pizza. I see...» I can’t conceal my bewilderment. «You are going to need loads.»
«Not too much, actually: we went to get it yesterday. We got one hundred ten-kilo bags.»
«I guess all the ingredients have already been bought...»
«Yesterday we bought flour, yeast and buffalo mozzarella cheese. Dad and Birger are going to buy Pepperoni, frankfurters and chili peppers on their way back.»
«Right. Who is this guy, Birger?»
«He is our new neighbour, didn’t I tell you about him? He bought the farmhouse just before ours: the one that had been up for sale for quite some time, at the entrance to the dirt road which leads to grandad’s farmhouse.»
«I don’t recall you telling me» I answer deep in my thoughts. «Anyway, this Birger guy too has decided to withdraw from the world and isolate himself in that piece of German country land?»
«We are not that isolated, Bra. Birger is working as a blacksmith and he does some lovely creations, like the trays for pizzas. I even brought him the iron maiden that I found in the lodge: he said he will get something beautiful out of it. Your father and I did not isolate ourselves from the world: we just need to get grandad’s house all set so that we can sell it.»
«Sure, I know very well that you are not completely isolated, but the only thing is that grandad is dead two and a half years now. I am starting to think that you want to live there.»
«That’s right. Bra, the house is hard to manage» my mum says softly.
«Sorry… did you say the iron maiden?» I reply puzzled, thinking back about my mum’s words.
«That’s right, grandad Bastian had loads of weird things down in the shed, did I not tell you?»
«Yes, you did mention something about that but I did not realize that he had torture devices.
«Who knows what went on in here... Uh, your daddy and Birger are back: they have just driven into the driveway. The pickup truck is loaded with ingredients: I must go and help them» she said a bit agitated.
«Right, I’ll leave you to do your nothing much» I reply quickly. «Sorry for one sec mum, one last question.»
«Tell me quickly Bra, I have to go!»
«How do you take the thirty-six metres of pizza to the town?»
«About fifty people come by tonight at 7.00 and we all walk to the town with the trays on our heads and torches in our hands in a real torchlight procession.»
«Sure, it will get cold! It must be four kilometres to the square and the trays must be hot.»
«Come on, Bra I have to go, all these silly questions: we bought a hundred pairs of gloves to hold the pizzas. Also, each table in the square has a power outlet for the burner: this way anyone can heat up the dishes they brought from home.»
«I am really silly, you are right. Enjoy the evening and say hi to dad for me.»
«Yes, sure, I’ll tell him that you were asking for him. I’m off. Bye» my mum mumbled. «Brando, I nearly forgot: I spoke to Marlon and he told me to tell you to contact him because he can never get you.»
«Yes, sure, I’ll do that. See you, mum.»
«See you, Bra, love you.»
Tofu, tofu, tofu; Tofu and seitan; and chicken; and rice: a spoonful and I start eating, while I am thinking about fifty people walking in the middle of the countryside with carrying pizzas on their heads, holding a torch in their hands; actually, thirty-six metres of pizzas on their heads and those who are not holding a torch, are holding a one-litre tankard of beer in their hands. I am thinking about how energetic my two parents are and I state that my level of energy, considering that I am a good bit younger than them, has nothing to do with their levels. Lately my level of energy seems nearly asleep, even though it has reached a level of respectable normality not too long ago.
Taking part in this kind of German festival, could be a healthy and liberating experience which would make my parents happy that I could take up their invitation to go there at least for a weekend and stay in the extension in their property in Germany. Huge property that my mum inherited from my grandad Bastian virtually three years ago. Last summer I was there for a few days but after that, I could not accept their regular invitation because I always had something urgent to take care of.
I feel a little confused thinking about the things that I need to take care of and I am mulling over the mental and physical benefits that I could get from being off work for a week. I would also have the chance to carry out a further investigation about all the weird things that my parents keep on telling me, like metre-long pizzas and torture devices. Surely Bastian must have been weird: he gave life to my mother, with the joint participation of my grandma, and then he went back to Germany, God knows why, probably to torture people in the basement.
I start to imagine 1.300 kilometres of German motorway, free from annoying speed limits for long stretches of the road. With a few stops, I would get there approximately slightly over twelve hours. One day’s journey and five or six days off staying in the extension, located on that huge far-away piece of German land; travelling by car with a blue glow sitting beside me, able to shake me off from that deadness that Alessandro feels it is coming from me. Unattainable idea, I state right away, wiping out the motorway and the German countryside and bring my organs of vision back on the screen in front of me: it is quite possible that the blue glow is already going out steadily with somebody else from the opposite sex and may also have a few children.
I push away the bowl with the airtight lid with my lunch in it, moving it towards the screen, I stand up and I go to the windows, holding my smartphone in my hands and looking at the landscape, which is now too bright.
I stare at the hills in the distance and I think about my brother, who is missing, according to the latest news, in some weird African State, with his association of volunteers. Considering that he is convinced that 4G is not among the most spread-out illness in the places he goes to and despite I unsuccessfully tried on many occasions to get him over the phone or on VoIP, I always notice his funny habit to blame me for his faults, whether unintentional or malicious. I hit the little green button and I write: “How are you doing? Are you in a civilized place? Have you been infected by 4G yet? I would be grateful if you could not spread fake information about my availability to our parent! Bye“
1.2 LIFE - FOUR
«Excuse me Brando, are you still on your lunch break?» I hear Domenica say behind me.
«I’d say that I am enjoying the last minutes of my break. Have you trouble with the real estate deeds?»
«Well, not exactly trouble. Yesterday I mentioned to you about the deed of sale that is on this afternoon, you know those rental office units that keep going around.»
«Sure, the usual.»
«Correct, that one. I thought that the land registry extracts and maps were still valid from the last deed. I realized that fifteen months have gone by so it would be better to do them all over again.»
«Fifteen months under the ownership of the same individual? I reckon it is some sort of record. Shall we celebrate?» I ask playfully.
«Yes, I think it is possession primacy» Domenica replies while placing a coffee pod in the coffee machine, after putting a cup under the nozzle.
«So do you need land registry extracts of the whole property?»
«That’s right, we ought to check that the situation is the same as it was in the last deed. I am quite sure that nothing has changed, however it is better to check.»
«Alright, I’ll get an extract of the whole thing then. I strongly fear something: what is the name of the new company that owns it?» I ask.
Domenica grabs the coffee cup, she looks at me sorrowfully while sipping her coffee and she confirms my doubts: «The rental office units goes back to Ciapper Ltd».
«Right, I would have never said that! These businessmen are so enlightened that you can predict their moves months in advance» I say harshly. «Anyway, just give me five minutes and I’ll start my surveying: everything will be ready by 3 o’clock.»
«Thank you, Brando, the deed is on at 4:00, so it is great.»
I go off with my cup and get back to my desk. I just listen to the news for a couple of minutes, before getting the extracts done: spread exceeds share 200; the stock exchange is down by 2.2%. The usual, I say, opening another website on Chrome.
Alberbhüttel patronal festival, search. Images of a square with many tables and several people come up. The last photo shows a man with a long grey moustache and red cheeks, busy lifting a large tankard of beer, almost empty.
She surely has a name, I am talking to myself while opening another page. I look for Sbandofin on Linkedin. Melissa. No. No. It’s not her. What kind of name is Melissa? Nice though. Elisabetta. Not even that one. The blue glow does not have such dreadful name. I decide to put a stop to my silly search and go back to work.
I open the Ciapper ltd folder, I click on Banano commercial rental estate subfolder and I read the titles of five deeds: the first document goes back to 2012 and the last one goes back to February 7th, 2017. Right, I say: the current one. I open the folder for the first document and I scroll down the documents related to the land registration extracts and the cadastral maps.
It is called Banano because of its shape, at least that’s what the Ciapper brothers claim. On the property website, in block letters, a call-to-action: luxurious offices in the heart of the city: book your viewing. Down on the right- hand corner, I notice a writing in small letters which I don’t recall having seen before: for rent and for sale. Considering that renting had always been considered by the brothers as the only way to make some money out of the property, I take it that this change of strategy is due to the difficulty in selling the properties.
The building is quite nice: it is modern and it is made up with both metal and glass materials, it is not really located in the city centre as the website implies but it is at the entrance to the bypass road, in a place that an experienced estate agent would describe it as close to all the amenities. Twenty sparkling storeys shine on the display in front of my eyes. I stare at the picture that shows the front of the building and I wonder, as I do every time I look at a building, whether in person or virtually, about the opportunities given by the chosen name. I stare at the rendering snapshot, I open another Chrome page, I search for the picture of a banana tree and compare it to the picture of the building: I would have gone for a name like Sitting Beam or for something more appropriate like The big L.
Ciapper ltd built this property between 2008 and 2011; at the beginning of 2012, it was ready to be placed on the market. Later on, with the first deed, it was immediately sold as a whole to a different legal entity, namely the property management company owned by the holding company of the group of which Ciapper ltd, a simple construction company, was also part. The idea, as I understood at the time, was to have the property managed by Ciapper Real Estate, which would have leased the offices to third parties. Only the top floor was intended to house the offices of the parent company and other related companies, including Ciapper Real Estate ltd and also Ciapper ltd.
At the time, the story had intrigued me and for a certain and prolonged period I had taken the occasional habit of going to patrol the building, to check the progress made in the office leasing. In the evening, the lights on would be a good indication of active leasing. Days and then months went by, but the only light was coming from the big LED display placed vertically between the two floors of the building: Luxurious offices. Book your viewing. Nor have I ever seen any sign of life forms living on the top floor of the vertical building.
The building was mentioned again at the office sometime later. In order to implement the new strategy to reduce the expenses, the brothers decided to get rid of several companies which were part of Ciapper. So, the holding had been merged with the property management company. After only a few months, Banano rental estate had subsequently been turned into what the brothers had described as a luxurious residence on Lake Garda, but the notary deed seemed to conceal some unwritten agreement. As a matter of fact, in a short time, the property had gone back to its original owners: Banano rental estate had gone back again to Ciapper and the further transfer had effectively got my interest in the matter to fade away.
I go back to 2017 subfolder and I read Domenica’s notes: Ciapper Real Estate ltd settles to sell the whole estate to Ciapper ltd. I open the Chamber of Commerce reports, first the one related to one company, then the one related to the other company, which I find out they had already been saved up by Domenica and they had been done two days before: the two brothers appear as the only shareholders. I go back to my notes and I figure out that the price amounts at ten million and is paid by sixteen bank drafts. Pdf files are saved up in the same place and have been created half an hour ago: € 625.000 each, issued by six different banks. I close all the open documents and I postulate that the whole thing can look very much like the last dramatic transfer of Banano estate that went from a vegetative state to decay.
I realise that I have attached too much attention to this issue, prompted by the curiosity caused by this ill-famed property, and I get the land registry extracts from the familiar site. I compare the pdf file from fifteen months ago with the new one and I notice, scrolling down the pages, that the two documents are identical: always 42 offices, registered as category A/10 and to this day 126 parking spaces, identified as C/6 and C/7.
I click on the email icon and I press the enter button to send a new email. I select Domenica from the list of contacts and I write in the field subject: Land registry reports and in the field body: Everything unchanged. Attachments. Good luck with that.
1.2 LIFE - FIVE
At 2:40 pm there are still all the company settings up and statutory amendments to be registered, for a total of ten documents. In four hours, I should be able to complete my work, just keeping my eyes on the screen constantly, I think.
As for the company settings up, I just need to register the transfer of ownership and input all the company data, the company directors’, the statutory powers: everything. It is a hard task, not a bit creative. The modifications are quite simple: I just have to register the updated statute and input a small amount of data, let aside unfortunate circumstances that could get the company contract to be not just amended but completely altered.
I start with the settings up, I set a core of my brain on auto. I open the pdf file of the first document and I start inputting data in the document in every field of the form: name, registered office, activity and all further necessary information, according to the legal status implemented.
I have been working here at Alessandro’s firm for fourteen years now, however it is a temporary situation, as I often repeat to myself: I must do something in life, I can’t be idle, waiting to find my path. As a matter of fact, as soon as I finished university, my only goal was to start working right away.
Considering the historical period, I had completed my university studies, my father advised me against taking up something similar to what he was doing, building and selling properties, nor had he suggested to work with him. An opportunity that, when you think about it, I did not even take into consideration.
In the 80’s luxury properties located in winter tourist resorts in the north of Italy allowed him to achieve a considerable entrepreneurial success. So much so that our lifestyle was comfortable enough to raise two children, to own a house in the city and two winter and summer holiday homes around the province. My memories of that period, although blurred, are those of a wealthy family background: my mother looked after us kids and our father was often missing, or rather he was around construction sites. Around the mid 90’s, as I grew older, I remember that there was talk about winter tourist market saturation in mountain areas so that my father had to get some work around Lake Garda, in search of new buyers, people who loved the place so much during the summer break that they would consider buying a steady home on the lake shore: luxury homes or homes which would attract wealthy people only. Several German tourists, but also tourists coming from eastern Europe, especially from Russia, beside some Italians with huge assets to invest, no-one knew where that wealth was coming from. So, our standard of living became more than comfortable: my father was getting busier with signing deeds of sale and being less around construction sites; in the meantime, I was growing up, I completed my higher education and I enrolled on a Business Economics and Legislation course at university.
Since my teenage years, I have been always interested in the manufacturing world: to make something tangible, maybe to manufacture a mass-produced item, a real object replicable in a large number of specimen. Once I completed university I did not exactly how to start off a business. I went for a temporary job, connected to the sector I wanted to get into. A job in an established notary office could give me a good chance to keep a close eye on the business world from inside and learn to understand it, a good ground to make ideas germinate.
So here I am, lost in an endless sequence of stories concerning companies, settings up, mergers, liquidation settlements. Ideas for businesses, examples not to follow, models to draw inspiration from. Then also all the series of events which are not really concerning companies, countless stories of people and surrealistic stories, meanwhile time, my time, goes by faster and faster. Marlon goes around the world with his volunteer mates, my parents withdraw to Germany to renovate my deceased grandfather’s home, and I am still wondering what I want to do when I grow up.
I hope that some other core in my brain has finished filling in properly the form of the file, while I was getting lost in my thoughts. I check the whole thing: the data seem to be complete. Check. Amend. Check. Amend.
Almost all right.
Check. Amend. Check. Send. Filed.
I stare at the screen and I realize that if I focused a bit more instead of wandering off I could get this pain in the ass over and done with more quickly. I can’t though, I feel unfocused today.
New file, new company. Name, registered office, date of incorporation, corporate purpose, company directors, powers. Attachments.
Sign. Amend. Delete. Attach. Sign. Attach. Sign. Check. Amend. Check. Send.
In two years’ time, at least four companies out of six will already be gone. I should suggest to Alessandro to put in the liquidation fee too in the registration quotes, just to pre-empt the situation.
⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎
I can hear a light sound of rain and a quick glance out the window validates my perception.
Probably you will be able to see the rain now from the seventh floor too. Provided it will stay there, all day.
Here are now the Ciapper brothers going past my office and heading off to the deed of sale room: their faces are quite gloomy. They are tagged along by Domenica who is following them; after a few minutes I can hear the door of the room close, there beyond the wall of my burial recess.
I must file the documents, keep on filing. There are three company settings up still left. The first one I am taking care of at the moment, is a simple limit liability partnership so I should deal with that in just a few clicks.
This void, this emptiness, you can almost have it, you know; you can almost have it, you know; you don’t remember what you want1 (#ulink_964428ff-b9e2-5e9c-b7bf-da47d88d577c), a gloomy half neuronal processor pounds, in the meantime.
Received. Saved.
The one before last. This is a standard limited liability company: what a drag.
So, with two cores, I am wondering how I ended up here: stagnant, without a real reason nor any conviction about what I really wanted. With my two cores spinning fast, what is unclear is what I want now which I realize now, I just don’t know what it is. One thing is sure: I have never dreamed of having what I have in my life now.
I stare at the screen.
