My bosses decided to promote me to a new role in a new department. I have new colleagues who are very “cool,” each with his or her own bag of knowledge, each ready to explain to you how they resolved a difficult problem or made a smart investment. One woman goes from vain pride in her technical skill with numbers and graphs to aesthetic vanity after work, with workouts at the gym and organic food, and then to the pub to drink as much beer as she can hold. I don’t really like beer that much and also the atmosphere doesn’t exactly thrill me: getting drunk is the goal and the dominant topics are career and sex (no one talks about soccer). Often, I went for the first round of drinks, but going home my heart was uneasy because it seemed I might be missing out on that one circumstance that might be “for me.” So I began to stay as much as the reality (the pub) allowed me to and we began to tell each other our stories and to get to know one another and to joke around. Between one joke and another, I began to discover who my colleagues were and they began to discover who I was. Throwing away the masks, they began speaking openly about their lives, about what they truly desired more than money and a career. Serena revealed to me that she came to Dublin after her fiancé broke up with her a year before their wedding; Matteo talked about leaving his marriage after six months, and Mary told me that she decided to quit the university with only one exam left and now lives day to day by working in customer service without any real expectations for the future.

Thanks to the many life stories I’ve had the privilege of listening to, I’ve rediscovered the passion I have for my own destiny. One of the most surprising things that has happened is that even the work day and formality of the office have changed. Monday is no longer when everyone starts waiting for the weekend, and coffee breaks are no longer complaint sessions. Lunchtime and foosball games have become moments when we talk about ourselves and show interest in one another. Everything has a human accent and our relationships are marked by a certain curious “affectionate cordiality.” What changes us and changes reality, what strikes people, is the gratuitous gesture of caring; saying in effect, without expecting anything in return, “I am interested in you.” Just the other day, Carmen, a young woman I helped when she was in crisis over her sales and said she couldn’t stand anyone anymore, stopped me and revealed that lately she was a little happier. She is finding something positive even in those who steal her contracts, and she would like to start working “less on work performance and a little more on myself.” To think that ten years ago, I was lost and discouraged, but now I am happy even if life is a great struggle. My happiness comes from the gaze of Someone who has loved me and who loves me now and has helped me without too many speeches during the rough urgencies of the day.

Paolo, Dublin (Ireland)