Bringing People Together
When I look back today on my entire professional life, I realize that I was never only a salesperson in the traditional sense. Of course, I sold products. Coffee machines. Ceramic tiles. New concepts. Software. But to me, a product was never an end in itself. It was often an opportunity to bring people together. That was my true way of doing business.
When an Italian manufacturer had a question or technical problem, I immediately thought of someone in Belgium who might know the answer. When an architect was looking for a very specific material, I tried to connect that person with the right manufacturer. When a tile dealer told me about the difficulties he faced every day, I carried his concerns to my next meeting in Italy.
And when Marco developed a new idea, I immediately looked for someone willing to test it in practice. Everywhere, I saw possible connections. Between a question and an answer. Between a problem and a solution. Between an idea and the person who needed it.
Perhaps that was my greatest gift. Perhaps it was also why my thoughts rarely found rest. I did not look only at what already existed. I constantly thought about what might come into being if the right people met. Dorina sometimes smiled and said:
"Renato... even at the dinner table, you're still working."
And to be honest... she was right. When I met new people, I listened attentively. Not only to understand what they did, but especially to discover what concerned them. What did they dream about? What were they struggling with? What did they need in order to take another step? Very often, between the lines, I detected a problem for which they had not yet found a solution. That fascinated me.
I asked questions. Many questions. Not out of simple curiosity, but because I truly wanted to understand. Only by trying to understand someone can we genuinely help them. That applied to customers. Manufacturers. Friends. And also our colleagues. I never believed a company grew because people simply obeyed orders. A company grows when people feel they are being heard.
Perhaps that was one of the things that made Piramedia so special. Everyone there had the opportunity to express themselves. When a young colleague had an idea, he or she could explain it. When a customer voiced criticism, we first tried to understand where it came from.
When a manufacturer had doubts, we took the time to search for an answer together. It took time. Sometimes an enormous amount of time. But I never considered those hours wasted. Anyone who invests time in people builds something that can last far longer than an order or a contract. I remember an Italian manufacturer taking me aside after a long meeting. He placed his hand on my shoulder and said:
"Renato... you don't sell our tiles."
I looked at him in surprise. He smiled.
"You sell our trust."
I have never forgotten those words. Perhaps because they sum up exactly the way I tried to work throughout my life. Not with impressive sales pitches, but with sincerity. That also meant I could not always say what someone wanted to hear. When I was not convinced by a collection, I said so.
When I thought a manufacturer risked making a bad decision, I told him frankly. And when a customer made a justified comment, I did not blindly defend the factory I represented. I took the concern seriously. Anyone who wants to bring people closer together carries a responsibility toward both sides. Honesty is indispensable for that. I represented not only a factory. I also represented my own name. And I never wanted to dishonor that name.
When I see how much the world has changed today, I often think about that. Everything moves faster. In seconds, emails reach the other side of the world. Through a video conference, people in different countries can speak with one another immediately. Today, artificial intelligence helps us find answers that once took us several days. It is an extraordinary development.
But speed alone does not truly bring people closer together. Technology can reduce distance. It can share information. It can connect people. But it cannot sincerely listen in our place. It cannot keep our word for us. And it cannot treat another person with respect on our behalf.
That is why, with every new technology, I still ask the same question again and again:
"Does it help people understand one another better?"
If the answer is yes, I believe in its value. If the answer is no, then even the most impressive invention loses much of its meaning to me. Perhaps that is the simplest summary of my entire professional life. I sold coffee machines, ceramic tiles, concepts, and software.
But what I was truly trying to build were relationships. If anything of my work remains today, I therefore do not hope people remember how many products I sold. I hope they remember that I listened to them. That I kept my word. And that I tried to bring human beings closer together. In the end, what we possessed does not remain. What truly remains is what we meant to one another.
That is the wealth I still carry in my heart today. And it is the wealth I hope to pass on to those who come after me.