Birgit spent her entire summer vacation in 1982 in Germany. During this time, the differences struck her particularly strongly – between the open, free life in London and the familiar, but narrow-minded, way of thinking in Waldmössingen. In London, you could be whoever you wanted, in the heart of a constantly changing city where so much was going on. In Germany, on the other hand, people were quick to gossip if someone was even slightly different – and no matter how long you were gone, nothing had ever changed in the village upon your return.
During those summer holidays, Birgit decided one morning around five o'clock to jump naked into a pond with some friends – a spontaneous moment of youthful freedom. What she hadn't considered was that the first joggers were already starting their laps at that time. No sooner were they in the water than they were spotted, chased out – and Birgit became the talk of the village for the rest of the summer.
The summer was enough for her to realize that she felt more at home in England. London had changed her. She missed the hustle and bustle, the energy, the adventure – everything that had first made her feel free, even though family and friends were behind her, supporting her, sharing in everything she had experienced, and even visiting her.
When she returned, she initially went back to London as an au pair. But this time it wasn't just an adventure, it was a plan. On her daily commute, she kept noticing a notice – a job advertisement on the bulletin board of the Ashburn Hotel 111. The elegant building was located on the main road, not far from her workplace. Every time she passed by, she paused briefly, read the advertisement, and imagined herself working there one day.
During her time as an au pair, she attended evening courses for aspiring secretarial staff – not far from her workplace. There she learned typing techniques, office organization, administration, and how to use the switchboard. After completing the seminar, she felt ready, applied to the Ashburn Hotel 111 – and was offered the position.
Before she started, she spoke with her host family, who reluctantly agreed – on the condition that Birgit spent two weeks training the new au pair. After that, she packed her bags, moved into the Ashburn Hotel 111, and settled into her own small apartment, which came with her new position.
Her boss was a man with influence but little character – calculating, pushy, strict, a real sly fox. Birgit remained professional, avoided him on bad days, and concentrated on her work. He still taught her a few things – accounting, personnel planning, guest relations – but the atmosphere remained tense.
During this time, she met the father of her first son, Philip. He was a regular guest at the hotel, like many others who stayed for weeks or months at a time for business events. He usually sat alone at the bar in the evenings—quiet, polite, reserved. That's where their conversations began, casual at first, then more intimate. A quiet, deep connection developed between them—far removed from the hustle and bustle of the hotel. It was a relationship that had a lasting impact.
She worked there for over two years. The work was demanding, but she learned a lot. Then came the incident that changed everything. The boss got into an argument with the boyfriend of a female employee. Words were exchanged, the situation escalated – it became physical and ended up in court.
Birgit was summoned as a witness – by both sides. Both her boss and her colleague wanted to win her over. She actually wanted to speak for her colleague, with whom she hadn't always gotten along well, but the fear of losing her job was greater. The pressure from both sides became unbearable. Finally, she decided not to make a statement at all.
This decision won her no friends. Trust within the company was shattered. Shortly afterward, the boss made it clear that she was "no longer acceptable" – and fired her. With that, she lost not only her job but also her small apartment, which belonged to the hotel.
Through her hairdresser, she quickly found a new apartment at Ealing Broadway 5, above a small hair salon – cramped, broken, run-down, but affordable, which she shared with another woman.
(Ealing Broadway 5, today)
A few days later, she spotted an advertisement in the Evening Standard newspaper: The Alexander Hotel Number Sixteen, Sumner Place, a luxury hotel belonging to the Alexander Hotel Group, was looking for reception staff. She applied, highlighting all her acquired skills, and was completely honest. She was hired, and two months later, she was even promoted to Assistant Manager.
The hotel was located in a Victorian townhouse in the heart of South Kensington – elegant, quiet, with that classic British atmosphere you see in old films.
One evening, Birgit was sitting in the lounge watching Wimbledon on television. Boris Becker was playing on the screen – young, slim, almost boyish. She had never seen anything like it before: the way this young man hit the balls over the net with such power, full of energy and determination. She knew nothing about tennis, had never seen him play, but something about his determination fascinated her.
The next morning, while she was working at the reception desk, the same boy appeared at the hotel. The guests whispered, "That's him—the boy from TV." Birgit recognized him immediately. He seemed polite, a little lost in the big city. She saw something of herself in him—that feeling of being new in a strange world where everything is both exciting and intimidating.
It was a very young Boris Becker. She went to him, brought him breakfast, and said in German that she thought his performance the day before had been really impressive. She started chatting with him, asking questions—curious, open, almost like a fan. Finally, with a smile, she added:
"If I'm annoying, just say fuck off."
Young Boris laughed, thanked her, and they chatted for a little while longer. Birgit remembered that moment. Afterwards, she became very interested in tennis, followed matches, and often recalled that conversation.
Birgit knew her journey wasn't over. She had settled in well, made many friends, was often out in pubs and at parties, and enjoyed life to the fullest despite the demanding work schedule. She wasn't intimidated by the big city – quite the opposite. Financially, she was managing. She lived between the world of luxury where she worked and the run-down reality of her small shared apartment. Birgit wanted more – to learn something new, to develop herself further, to build a better life. Through her work at the hotel and through the man she met around that time, she gained many insights into the business world.
Her old dream of fashion design faded more and more. It receded into the background as the hotel industry became her path. She thought perhaps she would pursue full training, work on a cruise ship, or one day even go to America. She worked for two years at the Alexander Hotel, and Philip, the reserved businessman from the hotel lounge, became her partner. Through contacts, she received invitations to small fashion shows and offers to present her designs—even a possible transfer to Monte Carlo. But she declined in order to stay in London and be with her partner.
Despite the promotion, she felt trapped – in her job, in her relationship, in a life that no longer made her feel as free as at the beginning.
One evening, an advertisement in the Evening Standard caught her eye – the Forum Hotel was looking for management. A modern high-rise, built in 1971, now known as the Holiday Inn Kensington. The salary was better, but the pressure was enormous. She had to make clear decisions, control processes, and take responsibility. She had to embrace the German management style – ruthless, as required. She applied for the position at the Forum Hotel, received an offer, and left her stable job at the Alexander Hotel, hoping this management position would help her find her way and feel better again – but it soon proved to be a mistake.
The pressure, the control, the long days—it all became too much. It just wasn't right. She knew this wasn't the life she wanted—on the contrary, it was only making everything worse. After six weeks, she was exhausted, restless, and full of doubt. One evening, tired and empty, she skimmed the Evening Standard again—this time her gaze fell on a small advertisement: Tony Roma's. Not a hotel, not a high-rise, not a power play—just a restaurant. She had never worked exclusively in a restaurant before, but she had gained enough experience in the hotel industry. For the first time in a long time, she felt curiosity instead of fear.
She applied on a whim – unaware that this marked the beginning of the next chapter in her life. There, at Tony Roma's, her path would finally begin to take shape.
