Dancing in the Dark

The autumn exam season was over, and there were only withdrawals in my bank account. The situation was unbearable. While partying with Italian students, I had gotten to know Giancarlo, a true Italian, who did cleaning jobs for Servi Systems. Could that be the solution? The Christmas break was approaching rapidly.

– So, you live in Tapiola? Yeah. Ahertajantie Shell station has an immediate need. Next Monday. Right. Reception at 8 o’clock. Area supervisor Mari will give you more information. Overalls will be provided by the company. Welcome to Servi.

This time, the job would be within walking distance. The Shell service workshop was close to my old Opintie co-ed school. I could reach work in ten minutes. Good thing, I thought. I went to check out the place in advance, even though I knew exactly where the workshop was. Safety first…

The job orientation seemed to be professional this time. They explained to me what my tasks would be and showed me around the building. A big advantage was the workshop cafeteria, where I could have meals without extra charge. The setup was simple. Whenever a mechanic finished with a car, he would drive it out. That’s when I would go clean the respective bay and empty the waste bin filled with scraps and packaging materials into the garbage compactor in the yard.

The car has been serviced. The mechanic starts the engine and moves the vehicle to the wash bay at the other end of the service station. I’m ready with my mop and brushes. The floor of the bay is slippery from oil and chemicals. I first spray a solvent detergent over the entire area. I brush the surface until all the dirt has loosened. Now I need pressurized hot water to wash away the oil-soaked mixture into the floor drain. I point the hose towards the floor and turn the knob on the wall. No water comes out. I turn another knob. Still nothing. I turn both knobs all the way open. Not even a sound… There’s loud shouting and then a tremendous crash. The car on the adjacent hydraulic lift has slid nose-first from the ceiling to the ground. The terrified mechanic gasps for air on the floor, a meter away from the crushed grille and hood of the Volkswagen. It quickly turns out that instead of turning the water hose knobs I had activated the hydraulic lift. The mechanic from the neighboring service bay rushes to stop the hydraulics. The entire staff from the downstairs area, including the workshop manager, gathers to watch and wonder. The manager hurries to get a camera and takes a few photos for the insurance company.

– Phew! That was lucky. Just a couple of seconds more, and Jari would have been in serious trouble. Now it’s luckily only scrap metal.

I watched the strange spectacle without fully understanding what had happened. The situation was quickly explained to me. Quite a promising start… I assumed I would be fired right away. To the credit of the workshop manager, I must say that he took the blame. No one had shown me the knobs for the water hose, which were right next to the lift controls. The insurance covered the damage to the car. The rest of my workdays went without any mishaps. I even got a photograph as a memento. Mari also found humor in the incident.

In mid-January, my studies continued in the same – wrong – career path. Someone should have lifted the tonearm and changed the record. I was quite satisfied after completing nearly all the outstanding requirements for cum laude in Finnish and general history. A couple of exams would be left for the summer. Then I could finally bid farewell to the history department. Even the cum laude in English was nearly finished.

This time, I was awake as the end of spring term approached. Now, it was absolutely necessary to find a new summer job. I happened to be on the same bus with Pekka’s father, Kai, again. Their family lived in the neighboring building. Kai worked as an auditor in the Bank of Finland. I had always gotten along well with this mischievous character hidden behind the gray bureaucratic appearance. He was a music enthusiast too. We had plenty to talk about. He was also interested in my studies. When I mentioned that I was looking for a new job, Kai immediately said he could arrange one. This was great news. I sent in my application with Kai’s endorsement. I prepared for the spring exam frenzy with a light heart – and for some well-deserved relaxation between exam days. The disappointment was immense when I received a rejection letter in the mail: ”Due to various reasons, we cannot offer you a summer substitute position in the Bank of Finland archives.” I thought that Kai must have been aware of the decision. So, I didn’t bother him any further about it. I shifted my focus elsewhere. Time was running out, as it was already the beginning of May.

– Hey Robert! Are we going to the bank together now?

– Hello. No, I’m afraid, I received a negative response from them on Monday.

– What on earth! Well, I’ll take care of this. What’s your phone number? I’ll call you this week.

Kai’s word carries weight. I get an invitation to come for lunch to discuss future tasks. Of course, it happens to be on the same day as an important exam. The bus is also late. I rush to Porthania building. The coat check area is chaotic, as the audience of the two large halls waits for their coats. My luck… There’s no time to wait. I leave my leather jacket in the self-service section and stride up the stairs to the fourth-floor lecture hall. The lecturer looks at his watch questioningly as I enter the door.

– I’m sorry. My bus was late, and there’s a terrible rush at the cloakroom.

The grammar exam has required a lot of studying and some memorization. It’s one of those academic tasks that just needs to be done sooner rather than later. My pulse is racing at over one hundred beats per minute, and my sweaty back sticks to the chair. I take calm breaths and focus on the tasks. Gradually, the information that has been stuffed into my head transfers onto the paper. My heart rate decreases. Tricky multiple-choice questions. Ugh, they all seem correct. Focus, focus. Remember the exceptions. Gerund? Oh, right!

– Time’s up. Please, return your papers.

What time is it? Eleven forty-five. Just in time for lunch. I only need to grab my coat from the cloakroom and hurry to the Bank of Finland. The elevator is too slow. I quickly down the stairs to the lobby. Thank goodness my coat isn’t on the guarded side. A terrible crowd again. But… Where is my coat? Here’s my scarf. Where are my jacket and gloves? Oh, damn it! They’ve been stolen! I wrap the scarf around my neck and sprint to the interview. A suspicious guard marches towards me. I pant in the grand lobby of the Bank of Finland, with a red face and a sweaty shirt, only wearing a scarf…

Kai and his colleagues come to the rescue before the guard throws me out. The situation clearly amused Kai. In another moment, I would have appreciated his sense of humor, but not now. I freshen up in the restroom and head to the staff cafeteria for lunch. The menu of the day is vegetable soup. I start to suspect that all of this is some cosmic prank. Nonetheless, the interview goes well. I mention that during my history studies, I had worked on assignments at both the university library and the parliament archives. That seemed to convince the present officials that I am suitable for employment at the Bank of Finland. Would it be alright for me to come for a photo session for my employee ID card tomorrow and also get acquainted with the future work environment? Of course. Losing my leather jacket would be a small price to pay for such a good job opportunity.

I dragged myself back to Porthania. The familiar cloakroom attendant ladies were upset for my sake. An abandoned, shabby trench coat would do. The sleeves were too short, but without a coat, I would surely have caught cold. I couldn’t afford to get sick now. The next day, I bought a college jacket from Seppälä clothing store and made a police report for the sake of formality. Then, I headed towards the Bank of Finland. This time, I wasn’t panting and I had clothes on. A photo was taken for my employee ID. I waited in the hallway, feeling content. What a great workplace compared to Valistus and Suomen Väri! The archivist came up to me. We introduced ourselves and took the elevator down a few floors. The space was enormous, and everything seemed to be in tip-top order. The basement would be pleasantly cool during the summer heat. Maybe a bit too cool? The AC pushed fresh air from several ceiling vents, causing the papers on the desk to flutter.

– This is your workstation. Your task will be transferring the information from these archive cards into the electronic system.

I held my throbbing neck with my hand and looked at the shelves along the wall, which seemed to reach the stratosphere.

– The card information is transferred with this computer. It’s easy. Just like working on a typewriter…

The next day, I called Kai from a university phone booth and explained the reason why I couldn’t accept the position – my chronic tension neck couldn’t handle the constant pounding of the typewriter in a drafty basement. I was very sorry. After thinking it over, he said he understood and wished me luck in my job search. I truly needed it.

Beggars can’t be choosers, as the saying goes. I took matters into my own hands and dialed the number for Servi Systems’ job desk right away. I wondered if I was on their blacklist before someone picked up the handset on the other end. But no, they were eager to know when I could start. There was an immediate need for me at Rank Xerox in Mankkaa. Two marks were well spent. One for quitting and one for new recruitment. A fast process, if any… 

In cleaning jobs, at least, I didn’t need to use a typewriter. And I could ride my bike to Mankkaa; I would save on transportation money too. Starting a new job is never easy. It feels approximately the same as beginning winter swimming. Regardless, there was work. People do manual labor for money – everything else is a bonus. I looked at the map to find the location of Rank Xerox and took an evening bike ride near my upcoming workplace on my bi-gear Nopsa bike. It was a standard concrete building, but this time it wasn’t in Vantaa.

My first work partner was a 17-year-old boy who listened to rockabilly and rode to work on a Honda motorbike. Through his hobby, we found a common topic of conversation. Jere’s interest was in the classic artists of the late 50s and early 60s, such as Carl Perkins, Buddy Holly, Eddie Cochran, and others. Additionally, he had a good command of the English language due to his hobby. I got to hear interesting details about the lives and music of early rockers on a daily basis. Sometimes he brought literature on the subject to the break room. His dedication sparked an enthusiasm for early rock’n’roll music in me, which I had previously somewhat overlooked. This was bonus number one.

Our work area was the large warehouse and service workshop of Xerox. We did two general cleaning rounds per day. In addition to those, there were various random tasks: initially assigned by the area supervisor, later taken on independently. Transporting empty packaging boxes to the compactor was also a daily task. I had thought that cleaning work in a workshop like this involved running around with carts from one place to another. At least at Xerox, the pace was relaxed and the work reasonably enjoyable. Only cleaning the heavily used men’s restrooms and vacuuming the cleaning room for photocopiers with a high-powered industrial vacuum were unpleasant. There was plenty of free time. Although our break room was just a windowless box, it provided some peace and quiet. We had pagers, and when they beeped, we were supposed to go to the nearest phone to receive instructions from the warehouse manager. However, the pager didn’t work because the walls were so thick. The warehouse manager came to see for himself. He shrugged his shoulders and left us alone. He was also so busy that he didn’t have time to watch over us. We soon realized that appearing regularly in the warehouse space was the key to the whole thing. Besides, polishing the floors and cleaning the windows provided a pleasant change to sometimes dull days. I set a goal to read all of the Shakespeare’s annotated works mentioned in the qualification requirements during the summer. I easily achieved and even surpassed this goal. This was bonus number two.

Jere left in the middle of summer to start his mandatory military service. As a farewell gift, he gave me a rockabilly mixtape he had compiled. I was touched. I missed him a bit, especially when I had to do the rounds alone for a few days. There was plenty of work for one person. I complained about this to Mari towards the end of the week, who wasn’t even aware of Jere’s departure. I would be getting a new coworker on Monday. And so it happened. Red-haired and -eyed, lively, and of indeterminate age, Jutta arrived, clearly coming straight to work from a slightly extended weekend. Wrinkled clothes and smudged eyeliner spoke of fast-paced leisure time. She enjoyed sparkling water and sleep as well. I wished her a good rest and went on the rounds alone, as cleaning the toilets in a 100% male-dominated basement wouldn’t have been possible anyway. In the afternoon, we did the rounds together, at least. Jutta followed behind the cart, visibly unenthusiastic, yawning and occasionally picking up trash from the floor. The same pattern repeated on Tuesday. My work partner, slightly smelling of alcohol again, took another nap on the floor of the break room on a tarp. And then we went on the rounds. The maintenance guys whistled at us and shouted those typical jabs of a group of guys. Suddenly, my partner stopped in her tracks and unleashed such a stream of insults and curses that the entire basement echoed. The whistling stopped abruptly. For the rest of the week, we were able to do our work in peace – or at least the afternoon portion of it. Friday came, and I was also heading to Tim’s island to spend the weekend, so my mood was good. Jutta took the added excitement from a bottle of sparkling water that smelled suspiciously like raw Koskenkorva vodka.

”Go ahead, take a swig, Rob. You’re a cool guy for letting me rest in the mornings. Yours truly is about to go to a party. See you on Monday, right?”

I didn’t take a swig, and Jutta didn’t show up on Monday. I began to understand why there was a high turnover of employees in cleaning work. Once again, I had something to talk to Mari about. On Tuesday, a new candidate arrived for Xerox. This time, it worked out. Tuomas was studying literature at the University of Helsinki and came from northern Tapiola. We clicked together excellently, even though we both might have been a bit out of tune on Mondays. Our conversations never ran out of topics, and the late summer focused heavily on literature. The most fun was our own Mauri Sariola club, which consisted of two members. I became enthusiastic about Sariola’s production as perfect summer reading with a strong touch of humor. I could also appreciate the author’s autobiographical early works.

The highlights of the summer were undoubtedly the visits to my friend’s, Tim’s, island. The conversations focused on literature, poetry, and other arts – including movies and music. The island, on the outskirts of the Porvoo archipelago, had no electricity, so every guest knew that the best gift was a package of batteries and oil for the lamps. Lighting was taken care of by oil lamps, and a fire burned in the open fireplace to provide warmth. They created a unique atmosphere. It felt like stepping into another century. We read aloud the best parts of books and recited poems. The debates sometimes got heated. Only the soundtracks were clearly from the 20th century. Although most of the songs flowing from the small Phillips cassette player were classics from musicals on both sides of World War II. The peace of the island transferred to the visitors as well. The lights of passing tankers out at sea flashed messages to us from afar. There were also fierce storms, especially in late summer. That’s when everyone sat on the enclosed porch with a wine glass within reach, enjoying – perhaps with a slight fear in their hearts – the magnificent natural spectacle above the boiling sea.

Summer came to an end even too quickly, accompanied by undeserved praises from the warehouse manager at Xerox. When meeting Tuomas at the university, our secret code word was ”Wasp Summer”, the title of one of the books by Mauri Sariola. That was the third bonus.

In the fall, my financial situation is better than usual, thanks to my perseverance at Xerox for over three months. I invest a few hundred marks in clothes, with the most expensive purchase being Levi’s 501 jeans. The early autumn is unusually warm. We often sit on the outdoor terrace of Porthania, eating or having coffee. Sometimes our lunch break stretches into several hours. I think my personal record was six hours. Whenever I’m about to leave, some new familiar faces sit at my table with their trays. I see more and more of Tommi and his companion, who even has a name, Heidi. I find myself seeking Tommi and Heidi’s company whenever possible. I really want to unravel the mystery called Heidi.

October 21st is approaching. I haven’t celebrated my birthday in any way for a long time. Now I have enough money to offer beer and snacks. The only thing missing is a venue for the party. While eating lunch at Porthania, I ponder the problem out loud. Tommi straightforwardly suggests that we can have the party at their two-room apartment in Koskela. It has enough space for about twenty guests and a large balcony where smokers can go. Right then and there, I invite everyone sitting at the table to the party. I want to invite all my close friends: Dean, Maria, Iida, Orvokki, Markus, Paul, Outi… and of course, the hosts Tommi and Heidi. The guest list quickly fills up.

Three days before the agreed date, I am at home with a fever. I have just recovered somewhat on the 21st. I still have a nasty cough and feel partially unwell. If the party were to be postponed, it would mean canceling it, so I carry a cough medicine bottle in my bag along with two bottles of wine. In the afternoon, we start getting in the mood at Pam Pam, the pub close to the university, listening to the cost-free jukebox and sipping beer. I offer rounds to the table. The atmosphere is merry indeed. Only my constant coughing disturbs. Tommi has taken the food and drinks intended for the evening in advance, so it’s not until seven o’clock that the rowdy bunch squeezes into a bus and the party takes off with a flying start.

My illness and the serious conversation I had with Maria the previous week about our relationship – practically ending it – weigh heavily on my mood. I make the classic mistake of trying to compensate for the lack of genuine joy with excessive drinking. The pounding cough doesn’t give me a moment’s peace. I can’t think clearly. Everything is uncontrollable chaos. Koskela’s two-room apartment is overflowing with people and the music is playing at an ear-splitting volume. ”They got me on milk and alcohol! They got me on milk and alcohol!”

Alcohol only worsens my coughing. I can’t say a word without horrible coughing fits. Seeing Maria overwhelms me with emotions. I start to cry. Almost no one notices. Suddenly, Heidi stands next to me. She guides me to the bedroom and strokes my head. I cough and cry inconsolably. Through the closed door of the bedroom, I hear Heidi commanding the music to stop and driving the rowdy crowd out. Even Dean humbles himself and leaves, shouting about continuing the party at Kluuvi’s pub. Heidi comes to my side with a glass of water. I swallow the pill she gives me. Gradually, the asthma medication eases my cough. Heavy fatigue takes over my mind. In the morning, I wake up in the hallway, on a mattress. The apartment is empty. I feel weak, but my mind is clear. I notice a note on the mattress written by Heidi. ”I hope you feel better. Have some breakfast. With love, your Heidi.”

I grab the note and head out. I take a bus to the city center and then another one to Tapiola. I have a shower and change my clothes. The cough is completely gone. Overall, I feel good and calm for the first time in a while. I’m a bit disappointed about the abrupt end to last night’s party. My relationship with Maria was never more than friendship with some added spices. I was too sick and too drunk. I look at the note I stuffed in my pocket. ”With love, your Heidi.” My Heidi… It’s just a polite way of saying it, I think. Or is it? 

Something motivates me to move, even though it’s Friday night and I have nothing to do at the university. I leave for the bus stop and get on bus 194. It goes through Munkkiniemi, but I have no rush to get anywhere. I could even go to the movies. I look out the bus window into the darkening evening. My mind fills with melancholy and uncertainty. What am I really doing with my life? Everything is scattered. Studies, work, relationships… The military question is still unresolved, even though I’m 27. I still live at home, even though I’m 27. I don’t even have a bachelor’s degree, even though I’m 27. 27. 27. 27. 27. And I’m drifting. I don’t want to join that club.

I snap out of my thoughts in Kamppi when the passengers start to exit. I’m already outside when I realize I left my bag inside the bus. The driver gets up from his seat. I quickly rush back in, apologizing, grab my bag, and jump out into the rush hour traffic. I walk over the platforms towards the corner of the Lasipalatsi building. I raise my gaze. There’s something familiar on the pedestrian crossing. Heidi’s jacket! Symmetric brown and gray patterns on a light background. It’s Heidi!

– Heidi! Wait! Hey!

– Hey! Rob! Are you okay?

– Yeah, I am. Where are you heading? Do you have a moment?