When the Wind Slowly Began to Turn
You do not always notice a storm approaching when you are completely absorbed in your work. That is how I experienced that period. We were so busy building the future that we barely took the time to look behind us. Every day brought new meetings. New customers. New demonstrations. New projects. And each time, we felt we were still only beginning.
Yet there were signs. Small signs. Almost imperceptible. Some manufacturers began investing more cautiously. Decisions that had once been made during a single meeting now remained unresolved for weeks. Sometimes even months. More and more often, I heard the same words:
"Let's wait a little longer."
"In the present situation, it's better to be cautious."
"We'll discuss it again next quarter."
Taken separately, those signs did not seem very important. Every entrepreneur knows periods when decisions take more time. But together, they slowly began to reveal a trend. The confidence with which people had once looked toward the future disappeared. Hesitation took its place. I noticed the same change among our customers. Architects remained enthusiastic. They still saw the possibilities offered by our systems and presentations.
But their own customers were becoming more cautious. Projects were postponed. Budgets decreased. Plans were simplified. No one spoke openly about a crisis. Yet everyone sensed that the confidence of previous years could no longer be taken for granted. The word we heard with increasing frequency was:
"Later." For a company in constant development, that postponement became a new problem. We could not keep suspending our own projects. Technology continued to change. Market expectations continued to rise. And anyone who wanted to develop something new had to keep investing. In those changes, Marco saw above all a reason to innovate even more.
"Dad," he often said, "if we keep innovating, we'll keep mattering."
I admired his conviction. It was the same conviction that had driven me in my youth. And to be honest, I still believed it too. How can we move forward if we are not willing to continue innovating? But every innovation also had a price. New computers. New software. New training. New colleagues. Every step forward demanded time, energy, and financial resources.
At the very moment when the market was becoming more cautious, we had to decide how much we could still invest in the future. That was the difficult balance I constantly sought. Those who stand still will sooner or later be overtaken. But those who move too quickly risk losing their balance. I did not want fear to make me slow down.
But neither could I forget how many people depended on our decisions. Every month, our colleagues counted on receiving their salaries. Their families depended on them. Manufacturers relied on our representation. Customers expected us to keep our promises. Every decision therefore concerned far more than a new project. I carried that responsibility with me every day.
Perhaps that was also why I slept less and less during that period. Not because I worried only about myself, but because I wondered whether I could continue providing enough security to everyone who relied on us. I did not easily show that burden to others.
When I entered the Pyramid, I tried to inspire calm and confidence. I continued making plans. I continued searching for solutions. And I continued believing that hope had to be stronger than fear. Today, I sometimes wonder whether I was too optimistic then. Perhaps I underestimated certain risks.
Perhaps for too long I believed that every difficulty could be overcome, as long as we continued working hard enough. But I do not blame the man I was then for continuing to believe. Without belief, no company comes into being. Without trust, no dream has the opportunity to become reality. What I understood only later was that conviction and caution do not exclude each other. An entrepreneur needs courage.
But also limits. He must dare to look forward. But he must also be willing to recognize that circumstances have changed. We acted from conviction. With honesty. And with the sincere desire to build something that would last. The fact that circumstances later took a different direction from the one we hoped for does not diminish the purity of our intentions.
But good intentions are not enough to protect a company from every storm. When I think back on those months today, I see a ship calmly continuing on its course. From the outside, the sea still appears calm. The crew does its work as always. People laugh. They make plans.
But at the helm, one feels the wind slowly changing direction. One does not yet know where the storm will come from. Nor how violent it will be. But deep inside, one senses that a new season is beginning. That was how I felt then. I could not foresee the future.
But I knew one thing with certainty: whatever happened, I would not simply give up. I had already learned that lesson after the crisis of 1981. A human being can lose a great deal. But as long as he retains the courage to rise again, he has not lost everything. I carried that conviction with me every day. Not because I thought I would never fall again.
But because I knew I would always try to find the strength to rise again. What I could not yet suspect was just how much strength the trials awaiting us would truly demand from me.