A lost baggage is an experience that any frequent flyer experiences at least once in his lifetime, and I'm no exception. To be precise, I lost my baggage twice, one on my first business trip with Bristol-Myers Squibb; the second only few days ago.
In the first occasion, it was quite embarassing, and not a good way to start a work relationship with any company. I was in BMS since four days only, and I was going to participate into the yearly marketing&sales conference. This already implied that, as a brand new product manager, I was going to be presented to my direct colleagues; but also that all the eyes would have been on me, ready to form a first and durable impression about my person. It was therefore a very critical moment for any manager, since how a famous and appropriate American say expresses, "You never have a second best to make a good impression".
The result of lost baggage n.1 has been that I was forced to be in the plenary meeting room, among some 200 colleagues dressed in elegant suits, with the same casual dresses I weared when I took the flight. The baggage showed itself in the hotel onthe following afternoon, but the magic moment of the first presentation was lost forever.
I flew Alitalia.
Some three years after that day, I woke up in Paris at 6am of a glorious May day. I had a business meeting at 8am, strange to say in BMS again, but this time as a consultant. The day showed himself to be very positive, the interaction with the client was immediately good, the suggestions I made were judged appropriate, etc. etc. All and all, and despite the tiredness of being up since early morning, I was in that state of satisfaction that consultants experience when everything seems to snap in naturally.
When in Paris, I usually take an outbound flight from Orly, but this time my colleagues and me preferred to fly from Charles De Gaulle airport, on an Air France flight aimed to Venice, where a connection with Naples was due to wait for us.
The connection flight was an Alitalia one.
At CDG I embarked my luggage direct to Naples, unaware about what was going to happen. Notably enough, in addition to the usual contents of a businessman's luggage, this time there was Roo inside. Roo is a cartoon character, straight out the Winnie the Pooh stories, and a peluche reproduction was in the trolley aimed straight to the waiting arms of my older son.
Long waited indeed, since the last time I was in Paris one month before. In that occasion, I buyed a Buzz Lightyear for my son, and a Roo for my daughter. If you have young children, you already know what happened. My three-years-old son went immediately jealous about my two-years-old daughter's Roo, and it was then that I promised him to bring a Roo next time I would have been in Paris. Therefore, taking profit of a free time slot I run to the shop, and there it was, another Roo aimed home.
In Venice the Alitalia connection flight was three hours and half late.
My colleagues and me wandered in the terminal, waiting to be allowed to fly back home. Our flight eventually arrived, and we finally landed in Naples at 23hrs. It was there that I discovered that my trolley was lost.
The notification to the lost luggage office took time (before me in the queue there were other passengers from Rome with their own stories of lost luggages) and in was only 1am, after 19 hours from the wake up, that I finally managed to go bed.
Before to get asleep, I had a very instinctive, but very infantile reaction. I facebooked and twitted via LinkedIn all my frustration about what had happened. My post was harsh and unequivocable: "I'm flying for business since 1998, with any company. Only Alitalia managed to lose twice my suitcase. Down with Alitalia, may you to fail."
What tiredness and rage made me to forget was that: a) when you air a comment into a social medium, virtually all the world can read it; b) a former colleague, which hired me in a precedent company, had become a big shot of Alitalia, and he was among my LinkedIn contacts.
After a few days, two things happened. My luggage, and its precious Roo content was finally found. On the same day, my former colleague wrote me a message on LinkedIn, offering help and "hoping that the wish for Alitalia to fail was out of frustration".
I have to admit, and I wrote it to my colleague, I felt ashamed. After having teached and consulted about it, I personally experienced for the first time the fact that everything that finds its way to social media can be picked up at any level of audience. And that it is better to take a deep breath before airing something to the world, because you could say unintended things out of rage and frustration, as I did.
The summing up of this experience is that companies are more and more realising the importance of a single complain when expressed through the web; and that conscious behaviour is cardinal in building a digital image which is coherent to what you are.
Thank you LinkedIn, thank you Twitter, thank you Alitalia, and sorry.
Roo is aimed home.
In the first occasion, it was quite embarassing, and not a good way to start a work relationship with any company. I was in BMS since four days only, and I was going to participate into the yearly marketing&sales conference. This already implied that, as a brand new product manager, I was going to be presented to my direct colleagues; but also that all the eyes would have been on me, ready to form a first and durable impression about my person. It was therefore a very critical moment for any manager, since how a famous and appropriate American say expresses, "You never have a second best to make a good impression".
The result of lost baggage n.1 has been that I was forced to be in the plenary meeting room, among some 200 colleagues dressed in elegant suits, with the same casual dresses I weared when I took the flight. The baggage showed itself in the hotel onthe following afternoon, but the magic moment of the first presentation was lost forever.
I flew Alitalia.
Some three years after that day, I woke up in Paris at 6am of a glorious May day. I had a business meeting at 8am, strange to say in BMS again, but this time as a consultant. The day showed himself to be very positive, the interaction with the client was immediately good, the suggestions I made were judged appropriate, etc. etc. All and all, and despite the tiredness of being up since early morning, I was in that state of satisfaction that consultants experience when everything seems to snap in naturally.
When in Paris, I usually take an outbound flight from Orly, but this time my colleagues and me preferred to fly from Charles De Gaulle airport, on an Air France flight aimed to Venice, where a connection with Naples was due to wait for us.
The connection flight was an Alitalia one.
At CDG I embarked my luggage direct to Naples, unaware about what was going to happen. Notably enough, in addition to the usual contents of a businessman's luggage, this time there was Roo inside. Roo is a cartoon character, straight out the Winnie the Pooh stories, and a peluche reproduction was in the trolley aimed straight to the waiting arms of my older son.
Long waited indeed, since the last time I was in Paris one month before. In that occasion, I buyed a Buzz Lightyear for my son, and a Roo for my daughter. If you have young children, you already know what happened. My three-years-old son went immediately jealous about my two-years-old daughter's Roo, and it was then that I promised him to bring a Roo next time I would have been in Paris. Therefore, taking profit of a free time slot I run to the shop, and there it was, another Roo aimed home.
In Venice the Alitalia connection flight was three hours and half late.
My colleagues and me wandered in the terminal, waiting to be allowed to fly back home. Our flight eventually arrived, and we finally landed in Naples at 23hrs. It was there that I discovered that my trolley was lost.
The notification to the lost luggage office took time (before me in the queue there were other passengers from Rome with their own stories of lost luggages) and in was only 1am, after 19 hours from the wake up, that I finally managed to go bed.
Before to get asleep, I had a very instinctive, but very infantile reaction. I facebooked and twitted via LinkedIn all my frustration about what had happened. My post was harsh and unequivocable: "I'm flying for business since 1998, with any company. Only Alitalia managed to lose twice my suitcase. Down with Alitalia, may you to fail."
What tiredness and rage made me to forget was that: a) when you air a comment into a social medium, virtually all the world can read it; b) a former colleague, which hired me in a precedent company, had become a big shot of Alitalia, and he was among my LinkedIn contacts.
After a few days, two things happened. My luggage, and its precious Roo content was finally found. On the same day, my former colleague wrote me a message on LinkedIn, offering help and "hoping that the wish for Alitalia to fail was out of frustration".
I have to admit, and I wrote it to my colleague, I felt ashamed. After having teached and consulted about it, I personally experienced for the first time the fact that everything that finds its way to social media can be picked up at any level of audience. And that it is better to take a deep breath before airing something to the world, because you could say unintended things out of rage and frustration, as I did.
The summing up of this experience is that companies are more and more realising the importance of a single complain when expressed through the web; and that conscious behaviour is cardinal in building a digital image which is coherent to what you are.
Thank you LinkedIn, thank you Twitter, thank you Alitalia, and sorry.
Roo is aimed home.
nice story. Did you ever think to write some novels for kids? I would like to do it!
RispondiEliminaFlavio
Thank you for your comment...I would like to write novels for kids indeed, and having two young children helps me a lot to imagine new stories.
RispondiEliminaWhat I feel important is making kids to develop a strong imagination...indeed to maintain their own. Much of my current personality, and even some skills I apply on the job, are deriving from the fact that I never forgot what being a child is like. Imagination helps you in difficult circumstances, when you need to find a mind place where to hide. It also helps you when you are requested, as it happens to me on the job, to imagine new way of doing things.