Seppia's journal
Posted: Wed Dec 20, 2017 1:25 pm
My Story – Life before work – the early days:
I was born in Italy in 1980, during a week when the top billboard hit was Blondie’s “Call Me”, which, coincidentally, is an awesome disco song.
Funny I grew up to love (very) Heavy Metal later in life. I’m recently softening up, but music will be for another post.
The common theme throughout my whole life is how ridiculously lucky I have been.
It all starts with my parents, a typical Italian semi-upper middle class couple from the financial standpoint, but very much ahead of their time regarding open mindedness.
Both had lived and worked abroad (France, UK), and decided from day 1 that languages and international experience could have given me a head start in life, so they hired an Australian nanny (both my parents worked long hours) and instructed her to only talk to me in English.
By the time I was 4, my family moved to France, so at age 6 when we returned to Italy I was already trilingual Italian-French-English. This would serve me well later in life.
I was a slightly above average student all the way through the last year of high school, doing just the minimum to get by in a worry free manner. I had a lot of fun during my young years, and my focus was not school but waterpolo (also a story for another post).
My mum and dad worked long hours, and my mum did not like to cook because she was often exhausted, so even if she was (is) very highly skilled in the kitchen, she usually cooked very shitty meals.
Turns out it was another lucky break, because it pushed me to start learning how to cook at age 12.
Cooking quickly developed into a hobby.
The parents of one of my schoolmates owned a fairly respected local restaurant, so at age 14 I started working at their place during the weekends, to help pay for my new addiction (video games).
I needed the job because while my parents were very willing to pay for any sport and education-related activities I wanted, I had a close to zero allowance for the “other” stuff (basically Christmas presents and that was it).
At the restaurant, I quickly moved from the tablet to the kitchen. By age 18 my friend and I were running the kitchen of a restaurant serving 80 meals a night.
The summer before the last year of high school I went to New Zeland for 6 months, to improve my English. It was a very tough but important experience for me. Italian kids are very spoiled by “mamma”, and New Zelanders of the same age are infinitely more mature than their Italian counterpart, especially in the rural areas like the one where I ended up.
It was not a pleasant experience, but I learned and matured a lot, and perfected my English.
I am thankful I had this experience (again, thanks to my parents and to the genetic lottery for this).
The day before I left NZ I got myself a tattoo.
It was 1998, when only rock stars and drug addicts had tattoos (I was neither): when my parents found out, my dad made me sleep one night on the balcony because he did not want me at home. I was lucky it was august.
Then came time for my last year of high school.
In Italy the top universities screen candidates based on two criteria: high school diploma score (we have big tests in Italy at the end of the last year) and an admittance test run by the university itself.
For the first time, I had a practical incentive to be better than “just enough to get by”, so the last year of high school I kicked up the effort level considerably and got a test score in the 89th percentile.
The next step was to choose what university path to take...
I was born in Italy in 1980, during a week when the top billboard hit was Blondie’s “Call Me”, which, coincidentally, is an awesome disco song.
Funny I grew up to love (very) Heavy Metal later in life. I’m recently softening up, but music will be for another post.
The common theme throughout my whole life is how ridiculously lucky I have been.
It all starts with my parents, a typical Italian semi-upper middle class couple from the financial standpoint, but very much ahead of their time regarding open mindedness.
Both had lived and worked abroad (France, UK), and decided from day 1 that languages and international experience could have given me a head start in life, so they hired an Australian nanny (both my parents worked long hours) and instructed her to only talk to me in English.
By the time I was 4, my family moved to France, so at age 6 when we returned to Italy I was already trilingual Italian-French-English. This would serve me well later in life.
I was a slightly above average student all the way through the last year of high school, doing just the minimum to get by in a worry free manner. I had a lot of fun during my young years, and my focus was not school but waterpolo (also a story for another post).
My mum and dad worked long hours, and my mum did not like to cook because she was often exhausted, so even if she was (is) very highly skilled in the kitchen, she usually cooked very shitty meals.
Turns out it was another lucky break, because it pushed me to start learning how to cook at age 12.
Cooking quickly developed into a hobby.
The parents of one of my schoolmates owned a fairly respected local restaurant, so at age 14 I started working at their place during the weekends, to help pay for my new addiction (video games).
I needed the job because while my parents were very willing to pay for any sport and education-related activities I wanted, I had a close to zero allowance for the “other” stuff (basically Christmas presents and that was it).
At the restaurant, I quickly moved from the tablet to the kitchen. By age 18 my friend and I were running the kitchen of a restaurant serving 80 meals a night.
The summer before the last year of high school I went to New Zeland for 6 months, to improve my English. It was a very tough but important experience for me. Italian kids are very spoiled by “mamma”, and New Zelanders of the same age are infinitely more mature than their Italian counterpart, especially in the rural areas like the one where I ended up.
It was not a pleasant experience, but I learned and matured a lot, and perfected my English.
I am thankful I had this experience (again, thanks to my parents and to the genetic lottery for this).
The day before I left NZ I got myself a tattoo.
It was 1998, when only rock stars and drug addicts had tattoos (I was neither): when my parents found out, my dad made me sleep one night on the balcony because he did not want me at home. I was lucky it was august.
Then came time for my last year of high school.
In Italy the top universities screen candidates based on two criteria: high school diploma score (we have big tests in Italy at the end of the last year) and an admittance test run by the university itself.
For the first time, I had a practical incentive to be better than “just enough to get by”, so the last year of high school I kicked up the effort level considerably and got a test score in the 89th percentile.
The next step was to choose what university path to take...