Women Managers on the Go/ Ilaria Bertizzolo: The Tricks of the Trade? A Trolley Case and FaceTime

We live in an era in which you can wake up in Milan, get to the office in London by 9am and still be able to have dinner at home. I don't know if this is a particularly good or civilized practice, but it can be done, and many of us have managed to develop the acrobatic skills to (almost) succeed in squaring the circle: yoga classes at night, calls with the pediatrician, home grocery delivery because of a boarding delay, birthday gifts for friends and relatives that look suspiciously like duty free goods. My trick is simple: a charger, an adapter, a bag with strategically tiny bottles and a Kindle are always in the same trolley case with the approved cabin dimensions: the estimated time to pack my luggage competes with the most efficient taxi search app. Black reigns supreme in the wardrobe, reducing the risk of unflattering color combinations to zero. Ballet flats that don't trigger the security check don't take up much room, and taking off heels while getting out of the car is a fluid movement perfected through years of training.

The hard part of the story is how to reconcile time commuting by plane with family. And it's not just about the Excel sheet with babysitters, but the children who grow up, the partners who make demands, the ageing parents. Here too, if there is an expected recipe, it's probably because it basically works. It's called quality time. It requires a lot of discipline and a good dose of the power of observation: family needs are moving targets, priorities should be updated more often than your iPhone.

But guaranteeing those two hours between dinner and goodnight to catch up with everyone's day is essential. Even at the cost of staying up a little later than expected by using your laptop when silence falls.

My work teaches me how to listen, and I have made a rule of it at home: the price of long absences is the fear of not being there when needed. WhatsApp and FaceTime are also great to check that equation that doesn't add up, or for emergency interventions on adolescent crises. But there is never enough time, so it is better to learn how to protect (and protect ourselves) by saying a few firm no's to colleagues, bosses and sirens who sing of successes that are too costly if measured in lifelines.

In the passport control line at London City I've heard bold Milanese executives declare, "I sleep better on the plane than in my own bed." I also pass out as soon as my seat belt is fastened, but after all, a part of me is dubious: what open-heart surgery, how many patents for life-saving vaccines or summits for world peace justify this determination to renounce a normal pace? Then the adrenaline of the day starts, and I realize I'm living the life I have chosen. That's what matters!

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