Far More Than a Sales Representative
Over the years, my work slowly changed without my truly realizing it. When I began, I saw myself simply as a sales representative. I visited customers. I presented new collections. I took orders. I followed up on deliveries. That was my job. But little by little, something special began to happen. More and more often, I received calls that had nothing at all to do with an order. An architect would call because he was hesitating between two materials.
An importer wanted my opinion about a new collection. A manufacturer asked how the Benelux market was developing. A tile setter was facing a technical problem at a jobsite. Little by little, I understood that people were no longer calling me only because they wanted to buy something. They were asking me for advice.
To me, that was one of the finest compliments anyone could give me. Not because I thought I knew everything. Quite the opposite. But because people trusted that I would give them an honest answer. When I did not know something, I said so openly. Then I went in search of the right answer. I have always believed that an entrepreneur - or a sales representative - does not necessarily need to have an immediate answer to every question.
What truly matters is being willing to search for the right answer. I believe that is precisely what makes the difference. Over time, I noticed that I was increasingly putting different companies in contact with one another. One manufacturer knew an excellent adhesive producer. Another was looking for a specialist in decorative finishes. An importer wanted to combine a new collection with an existing product line.
I discovered that bringing people together gave me immense satisfaction. When such a collaboration succeeded, I was almost as happy as if I had made a fine sale myself. Perhaps that was because I never thought solely in terms of competition. Above all, I thought in terms of possibilities.
When people use their talents to help one another, everyone becomes stronger in the end. That has always been my conviction. This way of working gave rise to many friendships that lasted for years. In Italy, I was increasingly welcomed not only as a representative, but as a trusted person. When I entered a factory, the conversation rarely began with business. First, they asked how Dorina was. How Marco and Michael were doing.
How my parents were. And I did the same. Those were not empty questions of politeness. The interest was sincere. It was precisely that sincerity that allowed our relationships to extend far beyond business. I remember one evening after a long workday in Sassuolo. I was sitting outside with several factory directors. It was late. The warmth of the day still hung in the evening air. On the table were simple dishes, a bottle of wine, and an espresso.
No one was speaking about sales figures anymore. No one was talking about contracts. We spoke about our children. About the future. About our hope that perhaps they would one day have a better life than we had known. At that moment, I understood that entrepreneurship is fundamentally the same everywhere. Behind every factory, every company, and every decision are human beings. People with dreams. Worries. Responsibilities.
Perhaps that is why I have never felt at home in a business world where only numbers mattered. Numbers are important. Without healthy companies, people have no work. But numbers never tell the whole story. Behind every order is a family. Behind every factory, hundreds of workers. And behind every decision, a person carrying responsibility. I have never forgotten that.
Perhaps that is also why so many people continued to place their trust in me. Not because I was the smartest. Not because I was the biggest. But because they sensed that I treated them with respect. When I look back on my career today, I understand that my greatest achievement is not found in the companies I represented. My greatest wealth is the people who, even after so many years, can still say to me:
"Renato, it truly was a pleasure working with you."
To me, there is no finer compliment. Because, in the end, what remains from a career is not limited to what we sold. What truly endures is the feeling we left with people.
The feeling that they mattered. And that is a legacy no economic crisis can ever take away from you.