Morgan Miele, Madame Figaro Matias Injic
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It was quite a hot summer morning. Phase meetings. Articles for review. Extended loop. Everything was intertwined in my head in a disorganized jumble, and I saw with concern that lunchtime was approaching. I was supposed to be on the other side of the Seine by 1 p.m., and this project was looking more and more in jeopardy. They buried him in the afternoon. I was ashamed. I had to find a well-known executive coach who was used to advising big names on a much tighter schedule than mine. Being the modest person that I am, even if this was all very serious after all, I was going to cancel our interview an hour early, on the spur of the moment. Opposite manners. Embarrassment guaranteed. Taking my courage in both hands, I sent a convoluted SMS explaining the why and how of such a late cancellation and asking him to forgive me. His answer was not long in coming. “Morgan, no problem moving our lunch.” I was breathing. “However, I am disappointed. Your…
Source: Le Figaro
