Please, just let me work in peace.
This article first appeared on Substack at https://jacoporomei.substack.com/p/please-just-let-me-work-in-peace.
A few years ago, a friend connected me with a company that needed help with their internal processes.
I received an email from someone in HR—kind, professional, and curious. We scheduled an introductory call.
They explained their needs, I walked them through my approach, and we agreed to meet the key players next—the stakeholders, the decision-makers, whatever you want to call them.
Then came the day of the meeting.
I joined the call. There was the HR contact, as lovely as ever, and two new faces.
From that moment on, it was pure chaos.
As I introduced myself, I could tell something was off.
One of the two new people came in aggressively: an overbearing tone, zero listening skills, acting like a four-star general.
The other person tried to speak but was immediately shut down with dismissive remarks and outright insults—things like, “What the f*ck are you talking about?”
The tension was through the roof, but I tried to stay grounded.
At one point, the dominant person turned to me and asked: “So, how exactly would you organize this workshop?”
Before I could finish my first sentence, they cut me off: “Can we make sure this workshop has a real impact on the process? Can we actually change it in that half-day during the corporate event? We’re talking about 200 people.”
In other words, they wanted me to solve systemic problems for 200 people in a couple of hours.
Internal monologue: What am I, Houdini?
Still, I tried to stay professional and said: “I can facilitate an initial workshop to surface problems, opportunities, and tensions. But we can’t expect people to change their behaviors in a single two-hour event. You need continuity. You need to weave the work into day-to-day operations.”
Silence.
The bossy one stared straight into the camera and asked: “Jacopo, how old do you think I am?”
I froze.
I had no idea where this was going. I knew it was a trap. Say too much—wrong. Say too little—still wrong.
So I said: “I think we’re about the same age. I’m 46.”
Visibly annoyed, they snapped: “Actually, I’m 49.”
The subtext was: Do you really think I don’t know that people don’t change in a single workshop?
But they were the same person who, seconds earlier, had demanded a two-hour miracle. Now they wanted to dismiss my answer by pointing to an age gap that didn’t even exist.
Finally, they muttered irritably: “Fine. Just send us a proposal.”
And the call ended.
I just sat there, drained.
For the next 30 minutes, I felt awful—emotionally drained.
I kept asking myself: Why do I have to endure this on a Tuesday morning? Why am I being bullied by someone who treats their team terribly, demands the impossible, and then lashes out when I explain it can’t be done?
I had a knot in my throat. I felt like crying.
I called the friend who had made the intro and asked: “How am I supposed to handle this? What do I do?”
I didn’t want to be the guy who said he could help and then just disappeared. You know how it is when other people’s professional relationships are on the line, right?
At the same time, the atmosphere of that call was incredibly toxic—especially considering I’d only known these people for five minutes.
Over the next few days, out of respect for the person who got me involved, I prepared a proposal anyway. I presented it in a second meeting.
This time, the call was even shorter.
The moment we said hello, the two bickering colleagues started right back up with the sharp tones, the contradictions, the infighting.
I sat there for a couple of minutes listening to them argue, feeling embarrassed and, this time, a bit annoyed. After all, this was my time and energy I was giving to two strangers.
After five minutes, the aggressive one snapped: “Fine, you guys figure it out.”
And they left the meeting.
I was left with the HR manager and the other person, who asked: “So... can we continue?”
That’s when I unmuted my mic and said clearly: “No. We can’t continue. The conditions for us to work together aren’t there. I haven’t signed anything yet—this was an evaluation phase, and my evaluation is negative.”
“Oh, come on.”
“Think about it.”
“We’re so sorry.”
No. I ended the call.
For me, that episode was a turning point.
It really marked me.
It made me rethink the entire purpose of my career.
When I was younger, back in school, I started doing some acting and was in a few films. I loved it. I seriously considered pursuing it as a career.
But I didn’t want to spend my life depending on the judgment of a director, a casting director, or a production company.
I chose engineering instead. Because I believed—perhaps naively—that it was a world where merit mattered. Where value was objective. (Spoiler: it’s not).
Then you find yourself twenty-five years later doing consulting.
And you realize that merit matters, but it’s not enough.
Because you run into people who ask for Agile but think it means hugging trees. They ask for processes but really mean team-building. They ask to change the way 200 people work, but they want it done in two hours.
And if you dare say it can’t be done, the theater starts: “Do it anyway,” “Then give us a discount,” “We don’t see eye to eye,” “How old do you think I am?”, etc., etc.
In the meantime, you’re the punching bag for the client’s frustrations, you’re dealing with messy procurement offices, trap-laden contracts, and veiled insults (sometimes not even veiled).
And that day, that Tuesday morning, I thought: Enough.
I just want to work. And I want to do it well.
I want to bring value. I want to improve the lives of the people I work with.
“I do X, in way Y. Are you interested in X done in way Y? Great, let’s work together. Not interested? No problem. We’re still friends.”
I dream of a way of working where you don’t always have to have a knife between your teeth. Where you aren’t constantly measuring each other to see who’s more alpha.
I love that, at , our clients renew their subscriptions every month. Or they leave the service peacefully—though fortunately, that’s rare.
Our client base is growing. And it’s growing because people see the value. They recognize it. They pay for it. And we get to actually WORK.
When I go to the supermarket and buy eggs, I don’t argue with the cashier because I want them bigger, or yellower, or more organic, or at a discount. I don’t ask for their age to decide if they’re experienced enough to sell me eggs.
I either buy them or I don’t.
That’s it.
That is my goal today. With Scaling Tales, with my life, with everything I do: to work with those who are aligned.
To listen to those who aren’t, sure. To always understand feedback. To actively seek out feedback! To change, when necessary.
But then, to get to work.
To all the people who are always on the warpath, I say:
Please, just let me work in peace.
Best,
Jacopo Romei