I Came all the Way to Berlin for a Job Interview
Train to Berlin
It’s Sunday, 9am, and I’m on the train to Berlin. Five hours ahead of me, which I fill with eating, studying, and music. “Help me learn the basics of business in one hour,” I asked the AI.
After a while I give up on concentrating and drift into a state somewhere between dozing and relaxed wakefulness.
When the train finally pulls into Berlin Ostbahnhof, I reach for my suitcase and step off.
The sun shines warm on my face and I walk past people sleeping on the street. Trash lying around shamelessly at every corner. Crowds streaming toward me and I let the different languages and colorful clothing styles wash over me.
Slowly, I got curious — what would it be like to live here?
I think back to a conversation with a delivery guy from Cologne I shadowed last week for a few hours.
B, early twenties, currently looking for an apprenticeship.
Grew up in Berlin, moved to Cologne a few years ago. When I asked what he missed most about Berlin, he gave three things:
- The parks — and the fact that they’re lit up at night.
- Good, cozy bars.
- Taking the U-Bahn (German underground).
Taking the U-Bahn? I asked in disbelief.
Yeah man. The U7 or U8. Something’s always going on. Never gets boring.
He grinned mischievously.
Berlin is a city full of paradoxes, wrapped in a thousand different narratives.
What draws me most is the motto live and let live.
The city is big enough for every subculture, every niche interest, no matter how small.
Do people come here to find something — or to run away from something?
Can you arrive here without losing yourself?
Or do you have to lose yourself in order to arrive?
Interview Day
My interview is at 1 pm.
After a solid night’s sleep at the hostel, I’m up early, eagerly going through a few interview questions one more time.
An hour before I have to leave, I jump in the shower and get ready.
Although the office vibe was described as a t-shirt culture, I brought my grey blazer — it enhances the whole look with the blue jeans and white sneakers.
Better slightly overdressed than underdressed for a first impression.
My shoes are still a little damp from cleaning them the day before. I hastily sit in the sun in the park for a bit to dry them off.
When I arrive, two employees are just entering the building and I follow them into the elevator as if I belong there. Upstairs, I suddenly got shy about asking for directions — thankfully one of them asks me first (the blazer gave me away) whether I’m here for a job interview.
I say yes, relieved — and as if on cue, my recruiter walks past at that exact moment and welcomes me warmly. She shows me to the meeting room where I’ll spend the next three hours.
Two team leads are already waiting, two friendly-looking women, probably only a little older than me. After a quick office tour and some snacks and water, we get started.
The first hour was personality questions and a task: explain an unfamiliar topic in three minutes to the room — I improvised something about handstands.
After the break, it continued with technical questions and smaller case studies, where my thought process was noted down. I gave everything. My brain was running at full speed, while I tried hard to read from their faces how close I am to the right answers.
It felt like dancing through a minefield — always careful not to show too much doubt or uncertainty when I didn’t know anything, while still following their cues with confidence.
At some point my brain started struggling to process the flood of information at full efficiency. The questions were framed in a way that kept throwing me off. I could feel the potentially right answers forming as a kind of pipeline in my brain — and too often they just wouldn’t come out the way I wanted them to.
With some distance, I’m taking a lot away from this: mostly that I’m allowed to take more time with my answers — and that even when the atmosphere feels relaxed, I can’t actually relax. It was and remains an interview situation.
During the breaks we chatted casually about company culture and I asked them about their own wellbeing at work. There was a lot of laughing. I’m pretty sure I won them over on a human level. Whether the technical side landed just as well — remains to be seen.
We said our goodbyes warmly. They wished me safe travels home tomorrow.
After the interview I feel completely high. Like the world stood still while I was inside that focus vacuum.
The sun is still hanging full in the sky when I leave the office, and I decide to walk an hour to a park.
To slowly come back to myself and process what just happened.
Sovereignty was my word for the day. And I gave 100% to live up to it.
You know that feeling of emptiness and bliss — after an intense training session, after a presentation where you gave everything, where you know you can be proud of yourself and for a moment you’re just floating?
I came all the way to Berlin for this interview, prepared for days — and even though it wasn’t perfect, all I feel is pride, and I let it flood through me.
An unfamiliar kind of beautiful after months of existential dread.
Where I was running up to five application processes at once and so many unknown variables swirkling around.
My energy was completely scattered.
This hard focusing on a single purpose — even just for a short time — gives me so much energy.
I’ve played my part. The rest I leave to the universe.
At the park, I call Dad quickly and give him an update, then answer a few messages.
R had wished me luck the evening before. I send a short thank you and ask how her day is going. We only met recently at training and eventually have been meeting up to train together. I really appreciate her thoughtfulness — it’s what I miss so much with distant friendships and surface-level acquaintances: that someone remembers the small everyday things and actually reaches out.
I let the evening wind down with a halloumi wrap and a yin yoga and gong session, during which I slept for about 80% of the time.
Probably the whole point.
Day 2
The next morning I decide to make a detour to a calisthenics park by the river before my midday departure.
When I arrive at 8:30, it’s already fully bright and the fresh air is being warmed by the first rays of sun. Three guys are already training and don’t look up when I set my things down.
I warm up properly and test my right shoulder — I landed badly on it during trampolining last week. Better to let it heal than stretch a mild strain into something worse.
I discovered this park almost exactly a year ago on my last short trip to Berlin. Back then I’d been exploring web3 and blockchain as part of a career pivot and used the Blockchain Events Week as an excuse to network. The scene was interesting but getting in as a newcomer was nearly impossible — and after running through every alternative I could think of (English/German/yoga teacher in Asia, fitness influencer, freelancer, movement teacher) I went back to looking for a traditional, stable job.
Anyway — at a session in this park I met M, half-German, half-Indonesian, movement coach, who gave me a lot of good handstand tips.
We trained, talked, and walked along the river for hours.
His passion for movement and spirituality fit with mine. We connected on Instagram and apart from the occasional story like, we stayed out of touch.
He doesn’t show up today. Since I deleted my account, there’s no way to reach him.
That feels strangely comforting — in a world of permanent connectivity, to be allowed to carry a special encounter in your heart without a second chapter having to be written.
After a while I have the whole place to myself. I imagine what a timelapse of this park might look like — hundreds of people showing up every day, training alone or together.
Strangers becoming acquaintances, maybe even friends.
While the trees and plants change colours and the animals watch us between building nests and finding food.
I watch the joggers and cyclists getting their rounds in before work.
The park isn’t far from the office.
I could absolutely see myself coming here regularly before work.
But I’m not letting myself dream too much about arriving yet.
Us humans are masters at filling gaps with fantasies.
I’ve dreamed too much this past year and have been confronted again and again with a completely different reality.
I bring my attention back to the here and now — the rustling of leaves, the birds, the cool breeze.
I breathe in, wrap my hands around the bar above me with a smile, brace my body, and start my next set.
unlike my other pieces, this one was originally written in german. ai was used for translation, although i made sure it sounds less polished, and still like me.