After I left school I looked in vain for an apprenticeship. I would have liked to train to be a cook, baker or confectioner, because then I would finally have had enough to eat. But there was nothing. The master craftsmen already had enough “Aryan” applicants. And they were probably afraid of conflicts with their own Trade Chambers if they started training non-Aryans. But they didn't tell me that; they just invented other excuses. If I'd known the real reasons for the rejections I would have understood them better. But I wouldn't have been any less angry.

Finally, after knocking on many doors, I found a place. The Hotel Excelsior was prepared to take me on as a bellboy, with a monthly salary the same as the other bellboys. The salary wasn't high and I had to hand all of it over to the ben Ahmeds. But there were also the tips I got from the guests. And so I had money of my own for the first time. I was expected to hand that over too, so they could “save” it for me. But my foster parents didn't know how much I was earning in tips. I always kept something back to buy books or sweets – as long as they were to be had.

The Hotel Excelsior in Berlin had an international reputation. It was in the Saarland Strasse opposite the Anhalter Bahnhof, and was linked to the station by a pedestrian tunnel. It advertised itself as “the biggest hotel on the continent”. That was surely true, for along with more than 600 rooms it had several restaurants, each with its own kitchen, including a Bavarian beer restaurant, the Thomas Cellar with seating for 1500, various salons with fine furniture, gleaming lamps and chandeliers, several elevators served by elevator operators, and a large reception area with expensive carpets. The hotel is long gone. It burnt down in the last days of the war, when Berlin was already surrounded by Soviet troops, and the ruins were demolished after the war. I was given a uniform that generations of bellboys before me had worn.