The End

Thursday, 9th September 1993

First day of convention, with dense presence of top customers and media. On the phone I heard the echo of the amazing performances of Miguel and his direct staff. Vanessa's enthusiasm, open microphone at Lilly's handset, was sky-high that early afternoon, while Sam didn't waste time with useless stories and simply asked me how I was.

I answered well, he replied it wasn't true.

With the excuse of the job interview I ran away again.

He left me with a good luck, while I wasn't even able to realize where I was going.

*****

Steven was American, young, handsome and kind, professionally enviable.

His easy attitude remembered me Marco but he wasn't Marco.

He was recruiting internships at the first working experience to take part to a six-month training program, oversea, in Chicago, all already organized and paid. Once over that first challenging selection the growth path required to spend at least another couple of years in the United States, period necessary to get acquainted with the English language first, but above all to accumulated experience in the role of business strategy junior consultant. Then possibility to evolve more, becoming senior advisor and partner of the company, for sure abroad, in Italy who knows.

He liked my CV, he immediately told me.

It was enough to say yes, maximum within a week.

As Miguel taught me whatever I'd have decided for my life I'd have waited the last second to tell it to him, otherwise my already modest price would have decreased more.

But when he asked my opinion I couldn't deny I found that working proposal interesting and in line with my career expectations.

And while I was arguing with him my brain ran through all the faces met during those months; once out of that aseptic and stylish skyscraper I cried trying to wipe them away.

No real news about him.