"Potresti avvicinarti quando hai un'attimino di tempo che ti devo chiedere una cosa?"
I've been asked this question several times over the last month and while this now strikes me as completely normal, I always found it so strange that I had to pop in and see someone so they could ask me the question that desperately needed an answer yet wasn't urgent enough to require a phone call or email.
There's no limit to the type of questions that you might be asked. This month I've been asked if I'd be interested in my cv being put forward for consideration for one of those blink-and-you'll-miss-it opportunities (hmmmm, let's think about that) and whether I'd like to get my hands on a rather lucrative teaching contract (again, I need to stop for a coffee to really think about the pros and the pros of that one).
It's in stark contrast to the way things are done in Britain. At the end of March, I wrote an article for The Times (I screamed silently - what about me?) about coming to terms with my brother's suicide and sibling survivors being the forgotten victims. I'm never really sure of effect my words have on others but I've been told it made quite a few people sob. The outcome of all that is that the Samaritans then asked me to speak at their annual conference in September though that's not confirmed.
Of course, that exchange took place over a couple of emails. Had we both been in Italy, it might have looked rather different:
Samaritans: "Hi, I'm from the Samaritans. We read your article and found it really moving. Do you think you could come to our offices?"
Me: Sure. (this causes lots of head sratching. How should I dress? Is it formal? Are we going for coffee? Am I about to get a job interview on the spot? Do they want my advice?)
On the day I imagine myself rolling up in a blend of smart-casual that nods to the 'yes, I always look this polished even when I'm running around doing errands' to be taken into the office for all of two minutes before being asked 'so, would you be up for speaking at the conference?'. You're always expected to give an answer on the spot before being uncerimoniously despatched seconds later.
These days I've come to the conclusion that Italians invite you into the office to ask you whether you'd like to accept the offer of a lifetime for no other reason than to see pure joy on your face. The more mega-Watt your smile, the happier they are.
So the first time an Italian tells you to pop by because they need to ask you a question, don't panic. Just start practising that acceptance speech.
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