Over the years, I’ve participated in hundreds of events. Most of the time as a speaker. Sometimes as an organizer. Sometimes just quietly sitting in the audience. The country or context rarely matters: Italy or abroad, formal or informal, academic or elite. They all blend into one overarching realization.
(Still skeptical? Here’s just the list of my speaking engagements in the legal field, excluding private workshops for clients, my beloved concerts, or the many professional events I’ve simply attended)
Let me tell you something simple, yet powerful: no event is perfect.
That’s the one lesson truly worth remembering.
Sometimes the microphones don’t work. Sometimes the room is half empty. Sometimes it’s too hot. Sometimes a speaker cancels at the last minute. Sometimes the promotion is entirely off.
Something always (let me repeat it: always!) goes wrong.
And yet, no event is truly imperfect either.
Everything changed for me when I embraced this paradox.
When I stopped chasing perfection and started showing up knowing that imperfection is part of the experience – I’d even say, part of the beauty of anything live – something shifted. I stopped being surprised by last-minute emergencies. I started treating them as part of the choreography.
That shift taught me one of the most valuable skills of my professional life: the ability to navigate the unexpected.
Because that’s what really matters. Not the flawless execution. Not the polished visuals. Not the full house.
What matters is how you deal with the heatwave. With the speaker who cancels due to the flu. With the throat infection right before your keynote. With the slideshow that refuses to load. With the awkward silence. With the name tag printed with the wrong name. With the people who promised you to show up – and don’t.
It’s not just about logistics. It’s about flexibility. Resilience. Improvisation. Empathy under pressure.
In fact, I’d argue this: how you handle the unpredictable is just as important as what you say on stage, or how meticulously you planned everything behind the scenes.
So here’s my quiet rebellion: I no longer believe in perfect events. But I believe in people doing their best with what they have.
A near-miss can turn into a memorable moment. Because when we let go of perfection, something better and more human can finally emerge.
And if you’ve ever been to an event that felt flawless, I’ll let you in on a little secret: it wasn’t.
They just handled the chaos so well, you didn’t notice.
