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By Janet Lewis Matricciani 

If I had a dollar for every time someone, on hearing of my plans or goals, said, “You will never be able to do that” and yet I did it, I would have a large stack of dollar bills in front of me. Don’t tell me I can’t do something because I will prove you wrong.

Actually, please do, because that gives me an added incentive to make it happen. When I was 8, my mother decided I would be vegan. I was the only kid in my entire school who needed a packed lunch, so I got used to all the questions and to standing out as being different.

Unfortunately, the macrobiotic bread my mother baked for me was quite tasty, so I was lucky if I managed to keep half a sandwich away from the other girls. I skipped a year at elementary school when I was 9 and discovered this by going into school one morning mid-year and being told, “No, you’re in that other classroom over there.”

Suddenly I had to make new friends and catch up on a year’s worth of every subject, as well as find out that, in another month, exams for secondary school entrance would begin. When doing A-Level selections (final high school classes), I picked both physics and Russian (a combination no one else in the entire country was doing) because both subjects really interested me.

My school said it was not possible as the classes clashed on the schedule. My mother said, “If you really want something, you will make it happen.” Fortunately, my friends in my Russian class of the last two years were more amenable, and by me giving up a netball practice for Russian oral lessons so that my fellow students could go home early on Fridays, they agreed to move the other clashing Russian class out of my physics time slot, so I was sorted.

This taught me two important lessons (aside from those I was learning in class). Firstly, people always do what’s best for them, so if you can find their winning proposition and adapt your needs to it, you will be fine. Secondly, I was never going to be “normal” or part of the in-crowd. I have never cared.

I have hitch-hiked around Lake Victoria in central Africa by myself, moved countries alone for jobs – to France and to Germany and to the U.S., and learned languages from scratch just so I could get transfers overseas (such as German so as to go to Munich). I teach my kids that if they want an adventurous life, they have to be willing to do things alone.

And what other kind of life is possibly worth living? After university, through a bit of wheeling and dealing, I managed to finagle the opportunity to work in Moscow. I was almost 21. I have been told I am the first British woman in history to work in Russia who was not a diplomat.

If asked, I would describe my job responsibilities as: expansion of our major joint venture which built major plastic plants in the Soviet Republics through discussions with Soviet business men and officials; formation of work plans for the machining industry business in Latvia; general technical translating and interpreting; and representing the company during trade shows and exhibitions. Really, my main job was to take phone calls and reorganize the telex and filing system in the office. This was bunches of paper telegrams that came through from London in triplicate giving instructions on upcoming visits by dignitaries, or other bits and pieces of information to help our office do the right thing as decided by corporate.

I also got to go on several interesting trips. On one occasion, I walked into the almost-empty business class lounge at Domodedovo Airport (the domestic airport in Moscow), to wait for my Aeroflot flight out to Kazan, the capital of Old Tartary. Two Englishmen were talking in loud voices. They were the only two people in the lounge.

“Where is he?” said one. “Stop worrying, we are half an hour early”, said the other. “Yes, but he needs to show up because he must represent the deal with us,” said the first chap.

I walked over to them. “I believe I am the man you are looking for!” I said loudly. Their jaws dropped when they realized I was indeed the rep from the engineering company with which they had partnered. The trip went well, with many adventures. I was even required to use the CEO’s loo at the petrochemical plant as the workers’ toilets were deemed unacceptable for me.

I didn’t mind that but had to be a bit careful not to fall over as it was still just a French-style hole in the ground. I was more disconcerted by the fact that each time I had to go, the executive assistant handed me a ration of seven sheets of toilet paper.

I have often found myself in the line of fire. At one financial services institution where I was running a multi-billion-dollar asset business, I had got a new boss, “Mike”. He was responsible for several business lines. He asked each of his direct reports to put together a presentation about their business.

I was excited. I spent a long time with my team writing up our results, our opportunities, issues we had and how we planned to solve them, and our expected future path. Then I was ready. I skipped happily to my meeting with Mike, excited to share with him my thoughts. I presented in my usual fun, happy, and enthusiastic manner. When I had finished, Mike looked at me piercingly and said, “You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” he said witheringly.

I was speechless. “What?” “You think you know the answer to everything,” he added, even more rudely. I couldn’t believe it. I had tried to present exactly what we had been asked. Was I supposed to sound confused and clueless about the business line I ran? Things just got worse with Mike. He was openly antagonistic towards me and not interested in my views on anything.

I went to a female leader I had met, Sarah, one of the two women at the entire company of 16,000 employees who was more senior to me. I explained to her my problems with Mike. “Oh, you poor darling, give me a hug!” she exclaimed. And then added, “Nice yellow purse!” I thought, “I don’t want a hug, I want some advice and help here.”

But she provided neither. The meeting was a waste of time. I asked my executive coach, Mary, to talk to Mike to see where he thought I needed to improve. She called me after her conversation, very despondent. “There’s nothing there, Janet,” she said, “He doesn’t want to help you and has no interest in you. You’re going to have to do something else.”

Normally, Mary had solutions so I knew if she was saying this, then there was no hope. So I went to Alejandro, who had become a mentor to me at the company. He told me I would never get anywhere with Mike, and that what I should suggest is that Mike gives me three months to find another position in the company.

I had only been working for Mike for two months, but the situation was untenable, so I felt I had no other choice. At the end of the group meeting the next day, during which Mike had been offhand with me as usual, I said, “Mike, please can I talk to you for a few minutes?” Mike said, “Oh yes. Absolutely. I would love to talk to you. Absolutely love it,” hyper-enthusiastically.

When he called, I did what Alejandro suggested. “I agree with you,” Mike said, “But my timing is different to yours. I want you off the team in two weeks.” I was absolutely shocked and freaked out. It hit me so hard that I almost drove my car through a red light later that day, slamming on the brakes just in time. I was the bread-winner and only source of income for our family of four.

I had to get a new job fast. Luckily, I did. At another financial institution, I was leading expansion into Mexico. We had all the terms of our planned joint venture agreed, and then I flew out to visit a major supplier, along with the 25 folks from our company who would be moving there. When we entered the room, you could see confusion on the face of the director of the supplier. He looked around the room. I was the only woman present.

“Can you pour the tea?” he asked me. “Yes, of course,” I replied. I turned to one of my team members. “Konrad, can you pour the tea?” He did so with alacrity. The director was surprised, but we began the meeting as tea was poured, not by me.

“Who is in charge of the marketing component?” he asked one attendee. “That’s Michael, over there,” I replied. The director then looked around at all the new faces. He chose the one with the most grey hair. “How is this deal structured in terms of profit payments?” he asked Paul. “I think you should ask Janet that,” said Paul.

He was, after all, just the statistician. I mean, he was the lead statistician, but he had nothing to do with deal finance. I explained the profit structure. The director finally looked at the cards in his lap and worked out that, yes, really, the woman was the team leader. Things moved much more smoothly after that. In my CEO life, at meetings with bankers, I am presumed to be a wife or secretary of one of them more often than not.

Misunderstandings abound. I find it hilarious (if you can’t change it, laugh at it). When I ran a billion-dollar public company, whenever my CFO and I attended meetings, participants would assume that I was his wife. This did not make me angry as all they were doing is guessing intelligently by statistical probabilities. The CFO would always say, “No, no, she runs the company, I work for her, she is the CEO,” to get the point home.

In the words of my guru, Taylor Swift, “I’m so sick of running as fast as I can, wondering if I would get there quicker if I was a man,” That’s not real wondering, because she knows. And I know. As Winston Churchill so wisely and pithily said, “Keep going.”

  - Janet Lewis Matricciani is a two-time CEO who has worked all over the world and is multilingual, now sharing her business lessons publicly. She can be reached at [email protected].