Chapter:

The Miraculous Hand

An Excerpt

When I still held the position of Director of Human Resources in Paris, I had a large office on the tenth floor to myself in a modern building in the 7th arrondissement of Paris, near the Champ-de-Mars. This office had a view of the Eiffel Tower and I was proud to stand in front of the huge glazed window from which I watched tourists from all over the world visit this historical monument built in 1889 by Gustave Eiffel at the time when France was celebrating the hundredth anniversary of its revolution. What other Parisian office could have been better located than mine? So I had to live up to this privilege. As such, I was always dressed in a suit and tie, with polished shoes and short-trimmed hair. I had a black leather briefcase in my hands and was weighed down by the files that I started processing from my car. My driver would hasten to open the door and say, "Have a good day at work, Mr. Director," as soon as I got out. Read More

When I still held the position of Director of Human Resources in Paris, I had a large office on the tenth floor to myself in a modern building in the 7th arrondissement of Paris, near the Champ-de-Mars. This office had a view of the Eiffel Tower and I was proud to stand in front of the huge glazed window from which I watched tourists from all over the world visit this historical monument built in 1889 by Gustave Eiffel at the time when France was celebrating the hundredth anniversary of its revolution. What other Parisian office could have been better located than mine? So I had to live up to this privilege. As such, I was always dressed in a suit and tie, with polished shoes and short-trimmed hair. I had a black leather briefcase in my hands and was weighed down by the files that I started processing from my car. My driver would hasten to open the door and say, "Have a good day at work, Mr. Director," as soon as I got out. As soon as I entered the hall of the building of our company, I was also greeted with deference, and I nodded my head slightly and offered a faint smile. Then I pressed the elevator button, which led me up to the tenth floor. Then I walked down a huge hallway, greeting my colleagues and stopping for a few minutes at the reception to view the list of my appointments before entering my office to discuss with my secretaries, two French people whom I had recruited as soon as they had completed their Master's in Public Relations. Ultimately, if I had chosen them, it was also because they came out of the University of Paris-Dauphine, in the 16th arrondissement where I, myself, was a student twenty years earlier. I was really one of the most respected people in my field. People were intimidated as soon as they crossed the threshold of my office, perhaps because of the red carpet that covered the 150 square metres of space that was designated exclusively for me. The walls were painted sky blue—which lightened the rigorousness of my job because it is not an easy profession to hire the required people for the required position, but also to be the one who announces to fathers or mothers of families that they will no longer be a part of the company and that a termination procedure has been initiated against them. In either case, a Director of Human Resources will be looked upon poorly every time. They will blame him, on the one hand, for not having hired a candidate who was the best; and on the other, they will have it in for him because he fired such and such individual who has children to feed, a burial fee to pay, a mortgage to repay, and whatever else... Close