7 March 2026

"Who are you?" When a question at a trade fair is worth more than a business plan

At the Puglia Region’s stand during a trade fair, a manager came up to me. She looked at me, somewhat puzzled: “Who are you?”

A fair question. Standing before her was someone with no official role, no party membership, and no regional office to back them up.

However, he had managed to persuade twenty-two municipalities in Apulia to pay a registration fee for a joint project to promote Holy Week rituals.

I thought about it for a moment. Then I smiled.

From ‘just Molfetta’ to the whole of Puglia

From the BIT in Milan to the Molfetta information point, and in the aisles of trade fairs, the question was always the same: "It's lovely… but is it just Molfetta? Isn't there anything else in Puglia?"

Those who had experienced the processions in the dark, the drums, and the silence that weighs like a stone, wanted more. And that ‘more’ did exist.

From the Gargano to Salento, every town had its own Easter traditions, its own processions, and its own communities that came together every year.

But no one told their stories together. Each village went its own way, like islands in an uncharted archipelago.

In 2008, I started making phone calls.

Initial sign-ups: ten local councils. Then word of mouth and meetings. Ten became twenty-two.

A regional network has been established, organised into themed routes: Gargano and Daunia, Imperial Apulia, Bari and the Trulli Coast, Salento, and Magna Graecia.

Councillor Guglielmo Minervini puts me in touch with Massimo Ostillio, the councillor for tourism.

We like the idea. The project is taking on a regional dimension.

The work that goes unseen

Behind every procession lies the work of skilled craftsmen. Research, analysis and a set of quality standards to ensure a warm welcome and basic services.

Then there are the tools: a bilingual guide, a website, a presence at trade fairs, and a stand at Bari Airport to engage with arriving and departing passengers.

The aim was clear: to spread tourism throughout the year. To use Holy Week in Puglia as a catalyst for travel, rather than the usual summer beach season.

Roots instead of a parasol. An opportunity to discover the region’s beauty through its landscapes, art and food and wine.

The best ideas don’t come from the office. They come from listening to tourists and travellers who ask questions and seek ‘authenticity’,

That question – "But only Molfetta?" – was already the answer. We just had to take it seriously.

And when a manager asks you, "Who are you, anyway?", perhaps that’s a sign that the invisible work has started to show itself.

If you work in cultural or tourism promotion and would like to tell me about your project, please get in touch.

9 February 2026

A Cardboard Suitcase to Tell the Story of the Enterprise

At a public meeting held in Molfetta, my city, I bring a cardboard suitcase instead of slides: inside, forty-five years of business told through images, memories and the choice to stay.

Hand luggage

When I was invited to speak at a public meeting organised by several civic movements in Molfetta on the value of enterprise, the first thing I did was to discard the idea of a written report.

I could have done it. Neat slides, data, graphs. All correct. All useless. I would have been the first to get bored.

So I took a cardboard suitcase. The old, ivory-coloured one that I have been carrying around with me for years. Not as a metaphor: just a suitcase.

I filled it with images and went on stage in front of a packed hall. Without any notes to read.

Freewheeling.

The suitcase doesn't lie

I began by saying that suitcase wasn't about the past. It was about a choice. The same choice that, in these parts, sooner or later everyone faces: to leave or to stay.

Inside that suitcase was my beginning. Eighteen years old, a diploma, no job. A group of young people who, instead of waiting, decided to invent one.

No business plan, no sophisticated strategy. Just the urgency to do something, here.

We didn't know what to expect. And that's probably why we had the courage to start.

Years of work, mistakes, adjustments, doors closing and others suddenly opening. I have described what it really means to stay: making mistakes on your doorstep, meeting the same looks even when you fail, not being able to leave when things get complicated.

Staying is not a pose. It is a continuous exposure.

The room listened in silence. I spoke about territory, identity, responsibility. About entrepreneurship as a concrete alternative to resignation.

Not as a promise, but as a possibility.

Value is demonstrated, not explained.

The next day, the messages arrived. Someone wrote: 'Genius and recklessness that conveyed the spirit of the entrepreneur.'

I smiled. Because there was no genius. There was only a suitcase full of memories and the choice not to filter them.

That evening, I realised something simple: the value of a business cannot be explained. It must be demonstrated.

You don't need perfect slides. You need real objects, moments you can touch with your eyes. You need the courage to open a suitcase and say: this is what we were, this is what we have become, with all the imperfections of the journey.

Because, ultimately, this is what doing business is all about: not offering certainties, but demonstrating that choice is still possible.

Even if the choice is to stay.

If you would like to bring a business story to your area (school, association, etc.), let's discuss it.

5 February 2026

"The Customer Always Calls Twice"

Customer crisis management in packaging: how a mistake during an inauguration turned into a 30-year partnership. A true story of customer care that works.

When the error comes at the wrong time

1990 - "Gaetano, Dr Milo called: the labels are coming off the bottles."

Francesca rushed into the Sala dei Templari in Molfetta just as I was shaking hands with the mayor in front of a painting from the Brera Academy.

It was our moment of glory: a contemporary art exhibition, a newly opened office in Milan, the leap into art publishing. And then there it was, reality reminding you who you really are: someone who prints labels. A blow to the heart.

Managing the crisis while everyone is watching you

While I smiled at the authorities and pretended to listen to the opening speeches, my mind was already elsewhere. Financial damage for the client. Damage for us. Reputation at risk. And that nagging little voice whispering: "You don't know where to turn, do you?"

But you already understand that at that moment you have to find the strength. You have to convince yourself before you convince the client that a solution exists, even if you can't see it at the moment. It's like bluffing in poker, except that here you can't afford to lose.

The only customer care rule that really matters

The next day, I went to Dr Milo without any defences or pre-prepared excuses. No buck-passing, no 'it's the supplier's fault', no beating about the bush. Just: 'This is what happened, it's our responsibility, this is the solution.'

Because, you see, you can tell them all about your production chains, but for the customer, you are the company. You and only you. And if at that moment you try to hide behind technicalities or blame others, you have already lost everything.

From door to door to the pasta factory that plays rock music

He was one of the first customers we acquired outside Molfetta. We needed to grow, broaden our horizons, and step outside our comfort zone. And so began my very own door-to-door tour of the province. Frustration mixed with determination. Until that oil mill in Palombaio 'fell into the net', as I say.

Today, Dr Milo is almost ninety years old. The oil mill has become an agri-food giant, thanks in part to the second generation. Giovanni, Saverio, Marida and Giuseppe, the latter a passionate U2 rocker with his own cover band. They have the same authenticity and courage as their father.

They produce pasta and baked goods that they ship all over the world.

And me? I feel a bit like family.

Over thirty years of partnership: when mistakes build trust

Since 1990, after that ill-fated phone call, I am still here. Not because we have never made mistakes again, but because when they happened, we faced up to them. Sincerity, respect, mutual trust.

These are not corporate mission slogans; they are the only thing that keeps real relationships going.

Labels still come off sometimes, metaphorically speaking. But when that happens, I know exactly what to do: introduce myself, look them in the eye, and resolve the issue.

And thank Francesca, who ruined my opening day. It was the day I truly understood what it means to run a business.

Do you work with clients who deserve the same commitment as Dr Milo?

If you are looking for a packaging partner who shows up when things go wrong (not just when everything is going well), let's talk.

PS: above, the Milo family – photo by the Yellow Agency – Bari

21 January 2026

"The Caravan of the Invisible" Milan late 1970s.

From Molfetta to the Navigli

On the one hand, neo-fascists plant bombs on trains and in public squares (that summer of 1980 – the Bologna massacre); on the other, the Red Brigades shoot and kill.

And we're in the middle.

The country seems to be sinking into a creeping civil war, but at that time we have a fixed idea and a dream to realise: to find the money to open the Cooperativa L'Immagine.

No reward trips after the state examinations.

From Molfetta, we head straight for Milan – the capital of work, aperitifs and the first baton charges.

We arrived with empty pockets and heads full of dreams. We woke up at dawn and headed down to the Navigli – not the elegant ones of today, but the rough ones, full of smoke and crumpled lives. In a crowded room, we waited for the phone to ring: drug addicts, ex-convicts and us.

The Caravan of the Invisible

Managing everything was the "Boss", a retired former officer: notebook, telephone and absolute power.

The companies called, he listened, hung up, took a quick look at the desperate people in front of him and decided who to entrust with the job.

Then he would pass you a note with the address, time and days. All strictly off the books.

And then one day, among the many humiliations, there was also that of the 'Boss' putting his hand between your thighs. Bastard. I didn't say anything.

What could I say? I was 'the one from the caravan', the non-EU citizen from the south, a nobody.

We were part of the 'caravan', a sort of early version of a temporary employment agency. We were given the worst jobs.

In businesses, they recognised us immediately: "They're the ones from the caravan." Distrust, jokes, suspicion.

We were the 'southerners in Milan', the 'non-EU citizens' of that time.

Milanese Nights

But in the evening, Milan changed its face. From the stinking canals to the smoky social centres and then the concerts by the Talking Heads, Television, Ramones, the first baton charges seen up close. We had exchanged daytime exploitation for night-time cultural education – and that, at least, we liked.

The Return Ticket

We returned to Molfetta one by one, but not defeated. We were different: we knew how much an hour of work was worth, how much a dream costs, how much Milan weighs on the shoulders of those who do not give up.

We had learnt that shitty jobs don't diminish you – they train you to be resilient.

That each shift was another brick in the cooperative's wall.

That leaving does not betray one's roots: it strengthens them. And that when I had power, I would never have used it like the Chief.

That company, founded with money from the caravan, is celebrating its 45th anniversary this year. It has weathered everything: crises, digital transformations, pandemics.

He taught us that you don't need to take everything with you: you just need to set off.

Today, I continue to connect people, territories and cultural projects between Puglia, Spain, Romania and Portugal.

If you have an idea in mind and don't know where to start, please contact me.

Perhaps it all starts with a chat – like back then in Milan, in a large room filled with smoke and hope.