Mrs. Schröder says goodbye to her shop

When I meet Ms. Schröder, she is sitting in her usual place. In a small corner of the university store, where files are lined up and pens in transparent cups are waiting for customers. Surrounded by shelves full of office supplies, rulers, loose-leaf binders and well-stocked stationery.

"If the whole world was like the students here ... there would be no wars"

Behind her: white perforated metal hooks with stencils, next to a large plant that brings a little greenery into the functional space. It smells of paper, plastic and a hint of the past. Now, at 90 years old, she quietly says "goodbye". With a wink, a smile and the conviction that work can be more than just a duty: "You shouldn't stop working at 67," she says. "Work keeps your mind fresh and is good for the soul."

Mrs. Schröder has been behind the counter for almost three decades, with a keen eye and a dry sense of humor. "I was always there - except when there was ice and snow," she says with a shrug. She always reliably parked her silver BMW diagonally in front of the store, officially authorized by the university, as she proudly claims. Calculator or cell phone? Not a thing. "I calculated everything in my head. That works."

Ms. Schröder had already experienced a lot before she came to campus: positions as chief accountant, jobs in Switzerland and the USA, her own silk flower store in Kassel-Bettenhausen. But the university store was different. "A friend told me at the time that the store was becoming vacant. And I grabbed it. Luckily!" Here she met people she would probably never have met otherwise. And she approached them with curiosity, openness and genuine interest. "The exchange with the students was the best thing for me."

"Mom, you work at the hub of the world"

And I believe her immediately. Ms. Schröder is a woman of many words and a clear attitude. For her, contact with people was never just a sale, but an encounter. "If the whole world were like the students here ... there would be no wars." She never saw herself as a penny-pincher. "It was important to me that the prices were such that the students felt good about buying them." Over the years, she became a permanent fixture on campus. She also allowed closeness - well-dosed, but honest: one architecture student cut the trees in her garden, another laid bricks. Most customers remained within the university world, but there was always mutual respect.

Of course, the changes on campus did not go unnoticed by her. "People used to be more sociable. Today, many just walk past you with their cell phone in their hand without even noticing their surroundings." And then there's the change in fashion, which is still a mystery to her: "Why does every second man have to wear a beard these days? It didn't used to be like that. I don't think it's so chic," she says dryly and laughs. At the same time, the 90-year-old proves with her alert, agile manner that age is no obstacle to development: she regularly uses ChatGPT to find out about healthy lifestyles. "It's a great tool," she says in a matter-of-fact way.

When she first started at the university store, it was mainly architectural supplies that were in demand. Back then, students were still queuing up for drawing paper, ink and technical equipment. Of course, that's no longer the case today: "Online shopping has changed a lot of things." She was particularly fascinated by the international nature of the university right from the start. "I was able to learn a lot from talking to international students or professors. Things that you would never have heard from the media," she says. Her children often said: "Mom, you're working at the hub of the world." And indeed, for Ms. Schröder, the small store was a window into a wide variety of worlds. "You can't travel to every country, but I got to know a lot of cultures here." She was particularly impressed by how young people have changed in the course of their studies. "I saw how they gained self-esteem over time." Education is the be-all and end-all for her: "You don't just learn 'me, me, me' here - but how to find solutions together."

Of course, not everything was always rosy. A break-in, a broken window, delivery mishaps. And occasional attempts at fraud, such as deliberate diversionary maneuvers at the checkout. "But my eyes were everywhere," she says, with a look that leaves no doubt. Alert, clear, present.

"I can, but I don't have to" - A new start, even for the store

Ms. Schröder is not simply leaving behind an empty salesroom. She is leaving behind a piece of campus history. Her cosmopolitan presence and cheerful optimism have left their mark on generations of students and staff. Her store is closing for the time being, but Ms. Schröder? She will stay. In memories. In little anecdotes between lectures and the canteen. And in the feeling that real encounters often happen where you least expect them.

But while one chapter of Ms. Schröder's life is coming to an end, a new one is beginning for the university store: the university is taking back the store and planning a store with a stronger focus on merchandise. For Ms. Schröder herself, saying goodbye is also a departure - into a new phase of life with more time for what she enjoys: "I want to continue making silk flowers like I used to and sell them to florists - at special prices. And finally just be able to say: I can, but I don't have to."

This article appeared in the university magazine publik 2025/3. Text: Bastian Puchmüller.