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From test-driving delivery gigs to scoring work with corona and delving into the Nazi history of modern management, it’s all in a day’s work for Exberliner. Our latest issue explores jobs and jobbing in the city. FREE TO OBEY – A historian explains how an SS Oberführer shaped modern management THE CORONA GIG – A new job market grows out of testing and vaccinating – but how long will it last? COVID CAREER SHIFTS – Four hustlers find themselves at a professional crossroads SECURE IN THE SADDLE – Exberliner takes delivery app employers on a test drive “I’M A RIDER MYSELF!” – Gorillas start-up founder Kağan Sümer on how it all began COWORKING GOES CORPORATE – How big brands are warming to the idea of sharing an office THE HOMEOFFICE DEBATE – As the novelty wears off, we hear four different takes on working from home POLITICAL NOTEBOOK – Business as usual with Israel BEST OF BERLIN – A fashion Plattenbau, wine in a can and home-cooked grub to order BOOKS – The absurdity of Heimat, East German diaries and paperback picks BERLIN BITES – Four puffy-crusted gems of the pizza-demic SHORT ESCAPES – Venturing out to the sandy shores of the Müritz

From test-driving delivery gigs to scoring work with corona and delving into the Nazi history of modern management, it’s all in a day’s work for Exberliner. Our latest issue explores jobs and jobbing in the city.

FREE TO OBEY – A historian explains how an SS Oberführer shaped modern management
THE CORONA GIG – A new job market grows out of testing and vaccinating – but how long will it last?
COVID CAREER SHIFTS – Four hustlers find themselves at a professional crossroads
SECURE IN THE SADDLE – Exberliner takes delivery app employers on a test drive
“I’M A RIDER MYSELF!” – Gorillas start-up founder Kağan Sümer on how it all began
COWORKING GOES CORPORATE – How big brands are warming to the idea of sharing an office
THE HOMEOFFICE DEBATE – As the novelty wears off, we hear four different takes on working from home
POLITICAL NOTEBOOK – Business as usual with Israel
BEST OF BERLIN – A fashion Plattenbau, wine in a can and home-cooked grub to order
BOOKS – The absurdity of Heimat, East German diaries and paperback picks
BERLIN BITES – Four puffy-crusted gems of the pizza-demic
SHORT ESCAPES – Venturing out to the sandy shores of the Müritz

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BERLIN AT WORK<br />

Paula Ragucci<br />

DORIAN PAIC<br />

FROM JET-SETTING DJ TO DESK-BOUND AGENT<br />

Last July, Dorian Paic found himself<br />

alone in Munich Airport, tired and<br />

sweaty. As he scanned the overhead<br />

displays for his departure gate, clutching a<br />

boarding pass for a Lufthansa flight back<br />

to Berlin, the weight of 15kg of house and<br />

techno vinyl cut into his shoulder. It grew<br />

heavier as he weaved between passengers<br />

on the way to the plane, exhausted but<br />

pumped full of adrenalin at the familiar<br />

prospect of a missed flight. He was on his<br />

way home from his first DJ gig since the<br />

pandemic shut the world down in March<br />

2020, and one of just a handful of dates he<br />

would play in the uneasy period between<br />

Europe’s first and second coronavirus<br />

waves. “I couldn’t believe I’d been doing<br />

that every weekend for more than 10<br />

years,” Paic said over coffee in a quiet<br />

Prenzlauer Berg park, almost one year later.<br />

“It seemed completely nuts.”<br />

Like the rest of Berlin’s DJs, the pandemic<br />

changed the Frankfurt-born Paic’s life<br />

almost overnight. The months leading up<br />

to March last year were some of the busiest<br />

of his career, thanks to a six-week South<br />

American tour that took him to countries<br />

like Brazil, Argentina and Peru. But with<br />

a stream of cancellation emails from his<br />

booking agent, it became clear that the<br />

South American jaunt would be his last<br />

tour for a while. “All my gigs until October<br />

disappeared,” Paic remembers. “From one<br />

week to the next, I was out of work.”<br />

More than 40 job applications later,<br />

Paic started his training on April 20 as a<br />

customer service agent for a well-known US<br />

e-commerce company with several offices<br />

in Berlin. He’d left an industry on its knees<br />

for one of the pandemic’s biggest winners:<br />

online shopping. Amazon and eBay are<br />

Germany’s most-visited internet retailers,<br />

accounting for 40 percent of online<br />

revenues. Both companies announced<br />

record sales during the pandemic.<br />

(Datenschutz rules mean he’s unable to<br />

name his employer.)<br />

It’s Paic’s first desk job in over 30 years,<br />

a period that was full of constant touring,<br />

digging for records and managing his label,<br />

raum...musik. He now works from home<br />

at the desk that once housed his home<br />

studio; his modest MIDI and drum machine<br />

collection replaced by his new work tools:<br />

a keyboard, monitor and headset. “In the<br />

first three months, I really wanted to die,”<br />

Paic says. “It was so hard. To be able to<br />

really work independently took around three<br />

months, which is when you start to see the<br />

same situations repeat themselves. Until<br />

then, everything was new.”<br />

The transition from DJ to office worker<br />

isn’t a common one. Most of the music<br />

scene’s casualties, whether DJs, booking<br />

agents or bar workers, have ridden out<br />

the pandemic on unemployment benefits,<br />

scraping by on Arbeitslosengeld II and<br />

Soforthilfe. But that wasn’t an option for<br />

Paic, whose pre-corona booking fee ranged<br />

between a few hundred euros and €3000.<br />

You could describe his life as comfortably<br />

middle class, paying €850 per month<br />

for his Prenzlauer Berg apartment with<br />

enough money to spare for savings and<br />

a few nice meals per week. He wasn’t a<br />

millionaire by the time corona hit, but he<br />

was no starving artist. “I have savings, so I<br />

wasn’t completely broke, but it didn’t make<br />

sense to just sit around eating kebabs,”<br />

Paic says. “I had it good before, so if life<br />

is a bit stressful at the moment, or I don’t<br />

have time to myself, then that’s just the<br />

way it is – you have to adapt.” In his case,<br />

adapting means five nine-hour shifts per<br />

week, during which he often fields calls<br />

from German-speaking customers deep into<br />

the night. He works in a small team of eight,<br />

all based remotely. And while he hasn’t<br />

caught up with any new workmates socially,<br />

at least one of them is a house music fan. “A<br />

colleague recognised my name,” Paic laughs.<br />

“He spent about an hour asking me about<br />

DJing and my label.”<br />

The last time Paic worked regular hours<br />

was behind the booth in 2008, slinging<br />

records to local DJs at Freebase, Frankfurt’s<br />

former temple of house and techno vinyl.<br />

Like standing behind the counter at that<br />

record shop, DJing provided the buzz that<br />

came with connecting with new cultures and<br />

young music geeks, the things Paic misses<br />

most about the touring life. But he says it’s<br />

nice to be finished with the constant travel<br />

– at least until his customer service contract<br />

expires next April. “Before corona, I’d been<br />

living off DJing for 12 years,” Paic says, “and<br />

living off music for 30 years. I don’t know<br />

many people who managed it over such a<br />

long period.” T — Matthew Unicomb<br />

In the first three<br />

months, I really<br />

wanted to die. It<br />

was so hard.<br />

JUNE 2021<br />

17

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