Hi Reader,

We've spent the last three months travelling through Australia, sleeping in other people's Airbnb spaces. Now that we're heading back home, we looked back and noticed a pattern that had nothing to do with the luxury of the places or their price tag.

Some places felt like home. Others felt like hotel rooms dressed up as home.

I can put the places in two categories. The perfectly "Instagrammable" ones: beautiful interiors, cold drinks waiting in the fridge, hosts having thought of things we didn't know we needed. And yet something was slightly off. Two of everything. No kitchen equipment beyond what you'd need to fry eggs. Generous in all the visible ways, protective in all the invisible ones. The implicit message: enjoy this, but don't get too comfortable, don't leave a mark.

The others felt like family homes. Some even announced upfront that they weren't for guests looking for a pitch-perfect hotel experience. We could feel that people lived there. We arrived expecting exactly that and found ourselves genuinely surprised by how much ease and comfort they gave us. The small joy of snuggling on the couch or putting your feet on the table :-)

The chocolate bar is what stays with me. One host had left bread and a chocolate bar in the fridge which was a genuine welcome gesture. But they'd also left us without a table, without salt and pepper, without a knife to cut a tomato. They knew what hospitality looks like. Keeping the space pristine just mattered more.

Which brings me to professionalism. When we book a hotel, we expect professional service and know that price determines comfort. But on Airbnb it's different. Some hosts perform professionalism: it looks like a hotel and feels like one. Others are professional in their actions: delivering on the promise of a home away from home, not a hotel.

This maps directly onto the work we do. It's very easy to over-invest in looking competent and underinvest in actually listening. To make sure everything reads well, sounds polished, lands professionally - while the other person is working out whether we're really there for them or mostly for ourselves (and the LinkedIn post after the fact).

🎤 Waiting for you on the Unprofessionalism podcast:

Leanne Hughes wrote the name of a podcast she didn't have on a blue Post-it note, dropped it in a hat, and when her name was called — walked on stage and described the show as if it existed. It didn't. A few months later, she launched it. That's how First Time Facilitator began. That's also how she landed a Wiley publishing deal, and sold out a 50-person consulting conference in eight days.

The pattern is always the same: claim it first, build it second. Not because the details don't matter — but because resourcefulness shows up after commitment, not before it. Waiting until you're ready is the riskier move.

In this episode: why tight deadlines are a gift, what happens when you fuse your identity with your work, and why disliking failure and fearing it are two very different things.

🎧 Click here to listen to the interview

📥 Download my 1-page summary

​UP_011_Summary.pdf​

🎧 The workshops work Podcast Club

The workshops work podcast may be gone, but once a month a small group of facilitators gathers to keep the conversation going around a shared theme without recording and without script. To join us, join me on Substack: https://myriamhadnes.substack.com/​

​You can find more information and sign up here​

That's it from my side. I hope to see you next week!

Myriam