Let’s clear something up, because it’ll save you a lot of time (and a lot of bruised ego).

Recruiters can be brilliant.

They can get you in front of decision-makers faster than any “Easy Apply” ever will. They can tell you what the market is actually paying. They can translate what hiring managers say they want into what they’ll actually hire.

And I’ve worked with recruiters who genuinely care — the kind who fight for candidates, give honest feedback, and don’t treat humans like inventory.

But.

A lot of recruiters don’t give a shit.

Confession: I’m a bit of a clean freak.

Not in a “look at my aesthetic cupboards” way. In a I can’t think properly if my surroundings are chaotic way.

I’m one of those people who cleans every day. I reset the space. I put things back. I like surfaces clear, floors clear, air clear. And yes — I know that says something about my nervous system.

But here’s the part most people don’t clock: I don’t do it because I’m trying to be impressive. I do it because mess is loud. It takes up mental bandwidth. It makes everything feel harder than it needs to be.

I’ve been quiet for two weeks.

Not because I ran out of things to say — but because I was away, in Africa, living real life. Not “content life.” Real life.

Coming back is always the hardest part.

You land, you unpack (sort of), and then reality hits you in the face: hundreds of emails, messages, admin, people needing things, life restarting at full speed.

And in the middle of that, I got a message from a client that I didn’t expect to impact me as much as it did.

People ask me all the time how I manage to do so much.

And honestly, I get why they ask.

I run my own business. I consult for a few different companies on top of my private clients. I’m constantly studying because I’m always doing another certification or learning something new. I have my travel brand, where I write, create, consult and build alongside the actual travelling itself. I’m heavily involved in activism across different organisations, groups, and causes, which takes real time, real energy, and real work. I’m a solo mum with no family around, which means I do everything myself. I cook every meal from scratch. I clean my house every day. I make sure my son has a full life — playdates, fun, structure, care, and all the logistics that come with that. Yes, that often means I’m also the taxi driver. And yes, I also have my own social life and plenty of hobbies. So no, it’s not an illusion.

It is a lot.

And when the world feels like it’s on fire, when it feels like we’re being dragged closer and closer to another catastrophic World War, I’m not interested in pretending this is somehow too “off topic” for a newsletter.

It isn’t.

Because we do not get to build careers, post leadership advice, talk about resilience, humanity, values, and courage — and then suddenly go quiet when the world is being fed lies in real time.

If You Still Think Iran Is the Villain, You’ve Fallen for the Script

I need to talk about something that’s been happening so often lately that it’s starting to feel like a standard feature of modern hiring — not a glitch.

And what’s wild is: this isn’t just “bad recruiters” or random agencies doing nonsense.

This is internal talent acquisition / HR teams inside real companies. Big groups. Small companies. “Serious” brands with shiny values pages and entire people functions.

And somehow… they keep making the same basic mistake. Over and over again.

I speak to corporate people every single day. I’m in these conversations constantly. And I’m still shocked at how often organisations can be so sophisticated in some areas — and then completely chaotic in the most fundamental one: alignment.

For the last couple of decades, I’ve worked with leaders in more shapes and sizes than most people realise.

Sometimes that’s been through coaching. Sometimes consulting. Sometimes inside organisations where the stakes are high, the politics are loud, and the job titles are very impressive.

At this point, I’ve coached thousands of people across industries and seniority levels. Right now alone, I’m working with 100+ clients.

And if you asked me what comes up again and again — across all those conversations — it’s this:

Some of the best leaders don’t know they’re leaders. And some of the people with the biggest titles… aren’t leading at all.

Let’s talk about that monkey video, Punch the bullied monkey in a Japanese zoo, went viral — the one that’s genuinely hard to watch.

Not because it’s a monkey.

Because you can see the moment a group decides: you’re the one.

The smaller one gets pushed around. The others hover. Someone tests the boundary. Nobody stops it.

And then we do the thing we always do when we don’t want to feel complicit:

We debate the definition.

“Is it bullying?” “Is it just social behaviour?” “Is it hierarchy?”

Here’s my definition, and it’s not academic:

Bullying is what happens when a group makes one person the price of belonging.

I need to talk about something that’s showing up in my work way too often.

Not in a “my friend’s cousin heard…” way. In a “this is landing in my clients’ inboxes weekly” way.

People are being offered roles that look legitimate — senior titles, global brands, relocation packages, the whole shiny fantasy — and they’re scams.

And before anyone does the smug thing (“how could anyone fall for that?”), let me say this clearly:

The people being targeted are not naïve. They’re qualified. Experienced. internationally mobile. Exactly the kind of people who should be getting approached for great roles.

That’s why this works.

I was speaking with one of my younger cousins recently and she said something that made me pause.

Something like: “I’m so glad I have you. I’ve learned so much from you. I don’t know what I’d do without your advice.”

And it wasn’t the first time I’ve heard a version of that.

Because honestly? My whole life, people have come to me. Cousins. Sisters. Friends. People in my orbit.

Advice about friendships. Confidence. University/Degree. Work. Boyfriends. Big decisions. The messy stuff. The “I don’t know what I’m doing” stuff.

And sometimes I’ve wondered: why me?

I’m Going to Tell You Something a Bit… Weird (But It Works)

This week’s newsletter is different.

It’s personal. And honestly, it’s the kind of thing most people wouldn’t share because it sounds a bit..… unhinged!!

But it’s also one of the most practical tools I’ve ever used for overthinking, values-checking, and those moments where you feel overwhelmed and you need to come back to yourself.

So here it is: I have an Invisible Council.

A group of “mentors” I consult in my head when I’m stuck.

And yes — I know how that sounds.....

Before you decide I’ve finally lost the plot, let me explain.

Imaginary friends aren’t “just cute” — they’re a tool

January is always the same.

People are full of motivation, full of “this is my year,” full of fresh notebooks and big intentions.

And I love that energy.

But I need to say this: some people approach coaching the way they approach shopping. Like they’re picking a handbag.

“Do I like the vibe?”
“Does it look good on me?”
“Will it make me feel like I’ve got my life together?”

I actually took a Christmas break.

Like… a real one.

No laptop. No inbox. No “just quickly checking something.” I disappeared on purpose. So if you noticed the silence—sorry (not sorry). I needed it.

Now I’m back. Happy 2026. I genuinely hope this year is good to you.

And since it’s the first post of the year, we need to talk about the thing that never goes out of fashion:

New Year’s resolutions.

I’m not against the intention. I’m against the delusion.

Confession: for years, I told myself I was “having a Christmas break.”

I wasn’t.

I was just working from Portugal.

And what’s worse is that I genuinely believed it. Because the scenery changed. Because I was “with family.” Because I wasn’t in London, or in an office, in the usual routine. So in my head it counted as rest.

But if you’re still sending emails, still taking calls, still mentally “on”… that’s not a break. That’s relocation.

What’s your superpower?

If you asked me, I’d say mine is reading people. Not in a “woo-woo, psychic” way, but in the sense that I can usually tell - pretty quickly - who’s genuine and who isn’t. It’s a gift that’s served me well, both in life and in coaching.

I’ve always had it. Even as a kid, my parents would (sometimes grudgingly) come to me for advice about their own friends. I remember being ten, watching the adults, and thinking, “Why are you friends with that person?” My mom would roll her eyes and tell me not to judge. A year later? She’d admit I was right. Superpower confirmed.

Let’s rewind to 2012. Luanda, Angola. I was a director, but still the “junior” on a business trip with one of my seniors and the co-owner of the company. We’d landed a golden ticket: dinner at the home of the CEO of one of the Big Four consultancies. Not a hotel bar, not a stuffy boardroom. The CEO’s private home, inside a walled, guarded compound that could’ve been airlifted in from Beverly Hills.

Let’s get real: I grew up listening to self-help tapes.
Not music. Not stories. Self-help tapes.

From the age of eight or nine, every car trip was a motivational seminar on wheels—success gurus, personal development programs, you name it. My dad ran a consultancy company, so this was just… normal. I honestly thought everyone grew up like this.

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