She's a lady

I met Milva for the first time a few years after the Swedes took us over. It was one of those chance encounters you won't soon forget - and not necessarily in a good way. A colleague and I were traveling with our Swedish colleague Bosse to visit some of the company's sites in southern Sweden that I had never seen before.

Milva, a lady estimated to be between 50 and 60, was an apparition in her own right. Her skin bore witness to her many visits to the tanning salon, and her long blonde hair, which she always touched every few minutes, betrayed a certain vanity. She moved her hand to her hair, tilted her head slightly to the side, and swept her hair forward jerky. She did this very often, almost like an unconscious ritual.

She immediately overwhelmed us with a very long monologue when we met her. At first, we didn't understand what she wanted. She talked like a waterfall, without a dot or a comma, and it wasn't easy to follow her. I quickly realized that she had fully absorbed the DNA of this Swedish company. Much of what she said came from the yellow book.

Milva started by complaining about the artificial friendliness of the Americans after I told her how much I would like to travel to North America. She had just returned from a trip to New York and had a lot to say. Her words just gushed out, and she could hardly catch her breath. Milva was an opinionated woman; you could tell that straight away.

"The Americans," she began in a snide tone, "they smile in your face, but it's all a facade. It's all so exaggerated, so artificial." She shook her head as if trying to shake off an unpleasant memory. "In New York, all these hypocritical pleasantries everywhere.

'How are you?', 'Have a nice day' - but nobody means it."

Her gestures were just as lively as her words. She waved her hands as if to grab the words out of the air and hold them before us. 

"This American way of smiling all the time is simply dishonest," she continued.

Milva saw her cultural values as superior. She spoke of Sweden as the last bastion of honesty in a world of false kindnesses.

It was clear that Milva had strong opinions and was not afraid to express them. Her conviction that the Swedish way was the best was unshakeable. She was a woman who knew what she wanted and had the means to get it - thanks to her connections and influence within the company. She had the best wiring to "above" and was aware of this.

She told us that she would soon be coming to our part of the company to train the employees - in terms of customer friendliness. That sounded ironic, considering the way she spoke to us. Her voice had more of a commanding tone than the gentle persuasion commonly associated with customer friendliness. She spoke of "necessary changes" and "adjustments" that she wanted to make as if she were a general preparing her troops for battle.

She constantly named any supposedly identified problems and then produced solutions to them. She had some sixth sense for finding weaknesses - or at least claiming to find them because I suspected it was more a kind of constant justification for her job, which might have been obsolete.

As she spoke, I couldn't help but wonder how someone who so obviously lived in their world would train us in customer friendliness. Her communication was anything but friendly; she left little room for dissent. Her monologue was a mixture of self-congratulation and criticism of everything and everyone. She talked about her successes, travels, and views on the right way to do business without pausing to ask our opinion. And when she did ask, she liked to answer. "Don't you think that's wrong (or right)?" she wanted to know someone. She tried to manipulatively impose her opinion on the other person, which worked very well in Sweden, which is always polite because she wanted to know everything.

Harmony could only be maintained if the participants had a broad consensus.

When she finally paused to catch her breath, Bosse began to steer the conversation differently. But Milva was not someone who was quickly interrupted. She grabbed the topic of conversation like a dog grabbed a bone and didn't let go.

Her flow of words was so overwhelming that my colleague and I could only give each other looks of incomprehension. It was as if we were immersed in another world in which Milva was the undisputed queen and were mere subjects who had to bend to her will.

Reviewing the day later, we couldn't help but laugh at the whole situation. Milva was like a character from a bad movie, so exaggerated and unrealistic that it was almost funny again.

The days leading up to Milva's arrival in our company's part flew by. The idea that this woman, who lived in her world of overconfidence, was supposed to train us in customer friendliness was almost absurd.

Milva entered the conference room with our assembled staff like a whirlwind, her blonde hair flying around as she repeated her theatrical gesture of throwing her hair forward. Her training was a firework display of self-praise and anecdotes that said more about her than customer friendliness. The staff sat there, partly amused, partly confused by what they heard. Milva was in her world and seemed oblivious to the reactions around her. She was in her element, and nothing could stop her from delivering her message.

But our employees were no longer small children; they didn't come from Sweden. Milva couldn't score points with them.

When the course was finally over, everyone breathed a sigh of relief. It had been an experience that none of us would soon forget. Milva left the office just as she had arrived - as a whirlwind that swept everything in its path.

In the days that followed, Milva's visit was the main topic of conversation on our part of the company. No one found her entertaining; many found her exhausting and overwhelming. Her way of asserting herself and expressing her opinions left a lasting impression. Employees shared in small groups, often shaking their heads or sighing when talking about their experiences with Milva.

"She's like a tornado," said one of the colleagues. "She comes in, whirls everything around, and then leaves us behind." This description hit the nail on the head. Milva had a way of entering rooms and immediately taking complete control.

To attract attention - not necessarily in a positive way.

The discussions about Milva continued long after she left us because from now on, she wanted to appear regularly, she had said at the end of her presentation. She left a lasting impression each time - not necessarily a good one. Milva was undoubtedly a polarizing figure in our company, but her methods and personality were met with resistance and incomprehension. However, despite the many challenges and conflicts she brought with her, I have to give her credit for being a source of ideas and innovation. She was bursting with creativity, and her energy seemed inexhaustible.

This ability to constantly develop new concepts and strategies set Milva apart from many others in the company. She was not content with the status quo. Instead, she always looked for ways to improve or change things, even if her methods were questionable. Her ideas ranged from radical restructuring to unconventional marketing strategies, and she was unafraid to implement them.

Many of her projects were ambitious, and she often overestimated what was realistically achievable. This led to situations where plans had to be revised or projects had to be abandoned altogether, often after considerable resources had already been invested. But despite these setbacks, Milva showed remarkable resilience. She refused to be discouraged. On the other hand, it was clear that Milva had significant knowledge gaps in many areas. There were moments when it became apparent that she had only a superficial or even no understanding of specific topics she was dealing with. This realization was particularly striking, considering her position and influence within the company.

Even more worrying was her seeming unwillingness to acquire the necessary knowledge. Milva seemed to rely on her intuition and personal beliefs rather than sound knowledge or expertise. This often led to decisions not based on solid facts or thorough analysis but on her beliefs or what she thought was right.

The discrepancy between their self-confidence and their actual competence led to frustration within the team. Employees more familiar with the subject matter often found it challenging to work with someone who showed a lack of understanding of the details and a reluctance to upskill. This undermined the effectiveness of her projects and affected the team's morale and commitment.

Once, a few years after her first "training" of our employees, an almost cinematic scene occurred. Milva pulled me aside to pour her heart out to me - or rather, to lament. With dramatic flair, she complained about my employees, who - oh, shock - didn't exactly respond to her with open arms and smiles on their lips.

"They're all so unfriendly to me," she sighed while she was probably already recruiting an army of friendlier Swedish employees in her mind.

Her words were laced with the aversion you usually only find in lousy soap operas. I realized that Milva had turned into a nemesis of our still predominantly non-Swedish part of the company. But I didn't realize at the time - and I should have known this if I had followed the many episodes of "Game of Thrones" more closely - that Milva was pulling her strings in the background. She fought us incessantly and with a dedication usually only seen in superhero movie villains. We were a thorn in her side, and I am firmly convinced that the reason was our 'otherness.'

Looking back, I admit that it was almost funny how I unsuspectingly fell into the trap she had laid for us with the skill of an experienced spy. It was as if I had taken on the leading role in a tragicomedy in which the audience already knew how the play would end while I was still reciting my lines, hoping for a happy ending.

If you're intrigued by my entertaining account of spending a decade in Sweden and want to delve deeper into my experiences, please click the link to discover more about my book.

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