Ludwig Ried & Sohn, a Frankfurt tile-laying company in its fourth generation, needs to charge E43.65, or $56.72, an hour to make ends meet, said Ried, its general manager.
But the enlargement of the European Union, which has brought to Frankfurt hundreds of Poles who are willing to work for half that, may now do what depression and war could not, he fears: put the Rieds out of business.
"I'd be happy if we could close Germany's doors right now and wait a while," Ried said.
But don't ask the Poles to apologize.
"Why shouldn't the Poles have more work than the Germans?" said Rafal Boroweic, a Polish tile-layer who came to Frankfurt in July and now lives a 10-minute walk away from the Rieds.
"They're doing good work, and the customers are happy."
Poles like Boroweic, working in Germany sooner than anticipated through an unexpected turn of events, are giving Germans a preview of the lower prices they might enjoy from their new neighbors, but also the tenacious competition they can pose.
Frankfurt had roughly 400 registered tile-layers before EU expansion but added 643 more in the subsequent eight months and 200 this year.
Over all, according to ZDH, the Berlin-based group that collects countrywide statistics, 4,441 self-employed people from the new EU countries began working in Germany last year, mostly in construction.
And in short order, Ried's business felt the heat.
After the construction boom following German unification in 1990 had turned into a bust by the end of the decade, Ried, 43, steered the company away from public contracts toward private work. Two years ago, he even negotiated a wage reduction with his 20 employees, a tight-knit group who understood the need to stay competitive.
But these days, Ried has a sheaf of papers that testify to his firm's increasingly beleaguered state. One sheet shows how his bid of E 126,000 for a job tiling a hospital lost to a competitor willing to do it for E 74,000.
"Anyone who knows this business knows this price is simply not possible," Ried said.
But for diligent Poles, used to living on less, it may be.
The EU's enlargement opened Boroweic's eyes to the idea of a better life outside Poland, and he first learned of the possibilities in Frankfurt through friends. The 30-year-old, who lives in a modest apartment with his girlfriend and child, had already earned an engineering degree from the University of Krakow after attending a technical school for the construction trades.
Yet work in Poland, which netted him £ 300 in a good month, came only in fits and starts. Around the time he was facing work as a door-to-door salesman, Boroweic left Poland, arriving in Frankfurt on July 15, 2004, and registered as a tile-layer.
"It's not much money in the beginning, but eventually you can earn very well," he said.
After distributing his mobile phone number widely, work picked up. A great month brought Boroweic E 3,000, a good one E 1,000. He is coy about how much he charges per hour, saying it depends on the job, but leaves no doubt his price is less than the E 43.65 that Ried commands. The Frankfurt trade association estimates that the Poles get roughly half what the Germans do.
But other Poles in Frankfurt feed the conviction among Germans like Ried that shenanigans are rife.
Authorities are unlikely to charge someone like Boroweic with breaking the law. He registered with the Frankfurt association, keeps paperwork to document sales taxes, and files German tax returns. He speaks excellent German, and advertises his telephone number, as one might expect an independent businessman to do.