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Hi Reader, Last weekend, I went back to my hometown for the 25th anniversary of high school graduation. I prepared by reading old letters I found in a dusty box, handwritten by friends in 1995. I was terrified. Thrown back to an old version of myself: Puberty-me, who was definitely not too cool for school, who wanted to impress others by smoking too young and drinking too much. Nothing to be proud of, really. But when we finally met and hugged and chatted and laughed, I noticed that the people I was most afraid of at 16 were the ones I could be most honest with at 43. Everyone was genuinely curious, present and warm. The gathering felt like a warm bubble bath that wouldn't cool down. I realised that since we have known each other at our worst, there was suddenly nothing left to prove. As if judgement was a finite resource, we had spent it all during those painful high school years. All that was left was curiosity for each other. It makes me think about how much energy we spend at work managing the impression of ourselves, careful not to overshare or be inappropriate. How long have I waited before coming out. Many wait to share something personal until it's safe. But what the 25th anniversary taught me is that safety arrives after the risk, not before it. It was exactly the shared history of having been a mess together that made that full honesty possible. 🎤 Waiting for you on the Unprofessionalism podcast:Benjamin Taylor was once brought in to help eleven chief executives navigate a merger that would cost the job of some. Before the meeting, a more senior colleague on his team pushed back on touching that topic. It would embarrass them, he said. It was better to keep things “professional”. Benjamin thought the opposite. That staying professional in that room was going to make it impossible for anyone to have an honest conversation. What happened next? An awkward silence and the topic remained untouched for the rest of the that meeting. He has spent his career walking into rooms like that one. And what he keeps finding is that most people just don't know there's another option. Sometimes it takes someone breaking the rule in front of you for you to realise that you’ve been following one all this time. We talked about where professional norms come from and why they're so hard to name, what it costs to break them and what it costs not to. 🎧 Click here to listen to the interview📥 Download my 1-page summary🎧 The workshops work Podcast ClubThe workshops work podcast has retired and I am devoted to preventing the old episodes from gathering digital dust in the archives. The podcast Club keeps the conversations alive. This month, we gather around the question: Who Holds the Pen? Inspired by my conversations with Judy Rees on Clean Language and Ole Qvist-Sørensen on Visual Language. Click here to find out more about the next gathering. That's it from my side. I hope to see you next week! Myriam
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I write about the gap between who we are at work and who we are when we put down the professional mask. Every week, I share one personal story from my life and a podcast conversation with someone who dared to write their own script, choosing authenticity over performance. The podcast is called Unprofessionalism. Each episode comes with a 1-page summary, in case you'd rather read than listen.
Hi Reader, I'm just returning from a retreat with Paula Short, who has been on the workshops work podcast. A facilitator I deeply respect. By the end of day two, a sudden insight made me almost laugh out loud. I am actually here. In the past — at workshops, retreats, anything that overlapped with my professional world — I would have had my facilitator hat glued on. I'd be observing the design, taking notes on the process, reading the room at the meta level. From a safe distance, carefully...
Hi Reader, Do you speak to yourself as you speak to your best friend? I often don't. I noticed how I would get upset with myself when I don't perform as I want to, when tasks take longer or when I don't show up as the person I want to be. I call myself names that I wouldn't use for my friend. You might recognise it: pondering over something we said, an email we maybe shouldn't have sent, a moment we keep replaying. Voices debating in our heads. It's no news. But this week, I am trying...
Hi Reader, I was supposed to be back in Amsterdam a week ago. Our flight was cancelled due to the war; then, rerouting via the US, we were refused boarding: apparently you need a visa to transit. One of the most expensive lessons I've learned. If I had been told I could extend my time in sunny Australia by a week, I might have been happy to arrange more "last times": one more beach, more friends, more gelato. But once my trip was extended by circumstances I didn't choose, it became difficult...