Nefer Parfum Prissana

A new Monday called, and off to work I went; personnel consulting. I mean, of course, personnel “consulting.” So, onto the A40, spent a bit of time parking, and then I was already in Essen. A dream city. Compared to Duisburg. Sure, I arrived 15 minutes early to catch the “office gossip” or better said, who had once again burned which client. This could happen when you let former mobile phone sellers loose on clients without training and offered specialists from the accounting field. It was here that I noticed this slightly spicy scent meandering through the halls.

I entered the sales room, and Till Brauer came towards me, self-proclaimed best consultant in the field of employee leasing. He smiled his smile with which he tried to mask the constant uncertainty, on the table was the 200ml version of Boss Bottled. Quickly, twelve more sprays were taken; after all, the new colleague across from me hadn’t noticed who the king was here. Because Till Brauer was someone. That’s why he knew how to squander his salary in online casinos alongside client acquisition.
“Till, what smells so much like caraway and a bit soapy? Did Özdogan get himself dirty again before client meetings and tried to clean up hastily?”
Samer Özdogan, “manager” of the crew, initiator of the motivation morning circle, so that the 25 phone calls would be completed daily, liked to show up with a smeared shirt. Quite pragmatically, by getting his shirt dirty with oil at the car or through food; anything was fine with him.

“No, maybe the new colleague?”
“He wasn’t it; I didn’t notice anything in the elevator; I was in there with him and the boss.”
15 minutes earlier: “Good morning, boss.” “Good morning, how are the numbers? The probation period for one, I can’t remember the names, is almost over, right? Are we throwing him out?”
“Well, I think he might make it...”
“Okay, so out.”
The elevator arrived on the fifth floor.
“Oh, the other one who went up with us in the elevator is getting out too; he didn’t even greet.”
“Must be the new one for Samer’s team.”
“Okay, then I’ll tell him he has to let him go right away. He didn’t greet.”
“He doesn’t know us at all!”
“He didn’t grüüüüüet!!!!!!”

So, I continued my search for who smelled of stale spice, strong, intense. The tangerine and the dried fruits contributed to this feeling. A hint of cinnamon joined in, which could also have come from the crumbs of Samer’s shirt. First, I had to pull the first of 15 coffees; the scent became fuller and riper. “Oh, do we have good coffee lately? Not the sludge from before because the contract was so cheap?” “No, it’s the old brew; I don’t know where this scent is coming from. It’s starting to smell like caraway too. But mild; maybe someone didn’t clean up their food again.”
“At nine o’clock?”
“Some colleagues consume their first counter-wine then.”
“True.”

So, I went to my place, still unable to locate the olfactory center of my interest. First, I gathered feedback from interviews with my candidates; my specialization was freelancers. I received the approval, and as was customary, I walked to the bell and rang it so everyone knew I had placed someone and the money was coming in. Everyone cheered, I high-fived a few hands and shouted: “Yeah, 500 euros profit a day, I’m going to fill my pockets nicely!”
Shortly after, the client called; I had forgotten to hang up and had to renegotiate the price. No problem, right after that, I lowered the daily rate of the candidate. After all, I needed the bonus for perfumes. Speaking of which, since my daily quota was done and I had nothing left to do except manager meetings and sweetening the day with employees’ witty comments about their communication skills on the phone, I set out to find the scent.

By now, it smelled creamy-spicy. Frankincense enveloped an amber-balsamic spiced panorama. The saffron added some color, pepper for a slight sharpness, and ginger was also present. But rather faint. For a moment, I suspected the colleague from the permanent placement, but then I remembered he was on leave. He caused a drunk driving accident. That’s of course semi-intelligent with a company car. Equally unwise was it to simply drive home afterward and not notice for 30 minutes that the victims were following behind and then called the police when they arrived home together.

I couldn’t figure it out, and so the day drifted along with the scent. I almost felt incapable of solving the riddle when my weekly conversation with one of my employees brought clarity. Autistic Alex, so named because he was not very empathetic and liked to demonstrate this, sat there as always: shirt tucked into yellow underpants, matching mustard-colored socks, with his hair sticking out in a confused manner. He had been there longer than anyone else and was also more successful. In any case, the man smelled (“I only remember the names of new colleagues after the probation period,” “Hahahahaha, the stupid colleague didn’t make it,” or “unfortunately, that’s my client and assignment, I called there three years ago”) elderly.
“Alex, what did you put on today? Grandpa’s pine needle bath as perfume?”
In reality, I felt reminded of the characteristically earthy Nagarmotha scent, but Alex wouldn’t be able to associate that.
“That’s Nefer from Parfum Prissana. My ex gave it to me.”
“The one who kicked you out after her trip to India or the one you met on that single catamaran trip for teachers, without you being a teacher?”
“The first one.”
“Quite an intriguing scent; now it seems resinous to me with fine elements of sandalwood. This gives the cardamom a whole different depth, making it appear more multifaceted. In any case, your numbers are still not right as always, and your now two calls a day are not enough. Could you please stop ordering garden tools like chainsaws to the office and taking sawing courses during your working hours?”
Suddenly, the door swung open: “Alex, your client is calling; almost everyone has quit, and you need to send five people.”
“Forget what I said, Alex...bring the money home!”