He idolised me.
One Saturday morning in May 2023, he accused me of theft.
I was standing on the touchline of my seven-year-old son's football match. For two days after that, I could not think clearly. In the middle of a crisis where every decision counted.
What I was already carrying
I was leading a crisis mandate as CEO in the airport sector. A company on the edge of bankruptcy. Court cases. Bailiffs at the door. Staff who were angry because the previous management had cheated them.
At home, my wife had been living with postnatal depression for months. Our youngest, born the year before, slept badly. So I slept badly.
I carried all of it. At work, nobody saw a thing.
I know pressure. I always give it a place. This crisis had its place too.
Until ten o'clock that Saturday.
The man I gave a chance
The CFO was a retired man. Very intelligent. No network, no family. He was sitting at home alone, wasting away.
I gave him the chance of his life. He thanked me every day. With what that mandate paid him, he bought a brand-new German luxury car.
Then, for an additional assignment, he asked for an outrageous fee. I refused and offered a much lower amount. He did not like that.
That Saturday he called. Theft. Irregularities.
He did not stab me in the back with a knife. He used a sword.
Two days in the fog
I had been brought in to keep a cool head. For two days, I could not.
I kept deciding. Emails, calls, meetings with bailiffs, choices for the team. But he was sitting at every table. I thought I was choosing on my own. With every decision, his story chose with me.
The debts, the court, the bailiffs: I had seen that pressure coming. I had a place for it. This I had never lived through before. An uppercut out of nowhere.
And there was no room left to absorb it. Months of short nights and heavy days had used up all my margin. The blow landed on top of everything that was already there.
What got me out of that fog had nothing to do with the crisis. The debts stayed. The court stayed. The bailiffs kept coming.
What brought it back
Forgiveness.
It took me two weeks to forgive him. I did it for myself.
That was the turning point. The calm came back. I could focus fully on the mandate again, and the pressure disappeared. Every problem was still there. I simply no longer carried that one man into every decision.
Forgiving him did not mean opening the door again.
He tried every possible way to get back in touch. Through other people. Online. I blocked him everywhere. I want this kind of pressure out of my life completely. And it is a clear signal to him.
Later he tried to blacken my name in court, during the bankruptcy. The judge gave it no weight. His story did not hold.
The company restarted as a new entity. The jobs were kept.
Through others, I know he regrets what happened. That he wants to sit at the table with me again. I refuse.
My son's football match is one I will never get back.
What sustained pressure does to your judgment
Sustained pressure rarely breaks you in one go. It eats your margin.
Pressure you see coming, you give a place. That is how you stay clear, even under a heavy load. But every place you give takes room. After months, there is no room left for what you do not see coming.
Then one unexpected blow lands on top of everything that is already there. Your intelligence stays intact, your overview disappears. You keep deciding, quickly and with conviction, while the blow decides with you.
Forgiving was my way of finally giving that blow a place. Blocking him was my way of making sure he would never get a place at my table again.
Your question for this week
Which blow are you still carrying that you never gave a place?
This is what my keynote is about: keynote speaker on sustained pressure and judgment.
