My Name Is Ziuta, I Trade Wood

This story happened when I was five years old, and my dad would always mention it during his motivational training. The golden thought of it were the words of Helen Keller: The only thing worse than being blind is having sight but no vision.

Back then we lived in Gdynia, a city by the Polish sea. At the back of the house was a garden with a big barbeque, a shed, and a fireplace. A volleyball court invited everyone to play, and the shadow underneath the trees to sit and rest. Because of their jobs, my parents always had company for the Saturday barbeque. With time, it became a tradition.

It was one of those early Saturday afternoons. The first volleyball-and-grilled-sausage enthusiasts started to arrive. No one ever arrived empty-handed. Once, someone even brought a massive pot of Polish bigos. Everyone played, drank, talked, and sang into the early morning hours. I mean, come on, let the 5-year-old sleep, right? Acquaintances would bring their acquaintances. Friends from all over Poland would reserve a spot at the Saturday barbeque while visiting the seaside. The company (at least a dozen or more) was diverse and sometimes even international. The dress code was as relaxed as the drinking policy, and the people would make connections that ended up being lifelong friendships. It was like a live garden Facebook. High attendance made the garden louder and busier than ever.

Suddenly, one Saturday evening, everyone went oddly silent. A woman in a perfectly cut tailor-made dress and a big hat had walked in with one of the Saturday regulars. With her, she brought a touch of romanticism and nostalgia. I mean, I would describe it that way now, but back then it seemed strange, out of place, and confusing. Her perfect shoes matched the character of everything else she wore, even as her high, slender heels collapsed smoothly into the ground as she stepped confidently on the grass.

Did she have any clue what she was signing up for? The garden went silent. All eyes were on her. Smiling, she approached my dad and introduced herself: "My name is Ziuta Kropidłowska, I trade wood," and in that exact moment of silence and focus on Ziuta, everyone knew exactly what her name was and what she did for a living. Ziuta then walked to the next person. She made eye contact, shook the person's hand, and said: "My name is Ziuta Kropidłowska, I trade wood." It was like that with the very next person and everyone after that. Every single time, while looking straight into the person’s eyes and shaking their hand, she would say: "My name is Ziuta Kropidłowska, I trade wood." It sounded like the most important announcement every single time she spoke. And so it went: twenty handshakes, twenty eye contacts, twenty smiles, and twenty clearly articulated statements: Ziuta! Trade! Wood!

Let's be real here. It was weird and unexpected. Not to be dramatic, but I was weirdly terrified of her.

The general disbelief didn't last long because of her lovely personality and charm. Ziuta turned out to be the best barbeque pal you'd ever meet in your life! She started a conversation with every single person, focusing less on talking and more on really listening, which earned her immediate sympathizers. She enjoyed the grilled sausage, sipped the beer straight from the bottle, and loudly regretted not packing sports shoes to be able to play some volleyball. But no worries, she said, next time!

That night was quite something, with Ziuta as its colorful element. Late that night, standing next to the dwindling midnight fire, our new friend announced she had to, unfortunately, leave us. No one wanted to see her go, we had all come to like her a lot.

Three weeks had passed when a family friend from Warsaw who had been a guest that night unexpectedly called my dad. At the time, he was the owner of the biggest Customs agency in Poland. He asked for the contact details of “that lady in the big hat who trades wood.” The matter was urgent. The next day, he got the number from my dad.

Many years later, we received an invitation.

"Son, we're going to see an old friend in Spain for her 70th birthday," my dad told me.

"What friend? Who?" I asked.

"She has a very successful wood trading company. She came to our garden barbeque once when you were little."

"Not the woodchopper lady!" I exclaimed.

My father laughed. "That woodchopper lady is now actually one of the most successful businesswomen in Europe."

I was floored. It was years later, yet as soon as my dad mentioned wood and trading, I knew immediately he meant the lady I had met when I was only five years old. She had lived in my mind as the Woodchopping Lady for years. This was probably exactly what Ziuta had in mind when she looked twenty people straight in the eye and created an image of her that they would surely remember forever. Who knew? Perhaps one day someone would need wood.

Together, my dad, my mom, and I flew to Alicante in the heart of Spain’s Costa Blanca to Ziuta's summer mansion. The luxurious estate was built on a hill surrounded by a pine grove. From the terrace, you had a wonderful view of the sea.

When Ziuta introduced our family to her friends, she told the story from dozen years earlier:

"As per usual, on the anniversary of my marriage with Janusz, I wore the same dress I wore when we had first celebrated together. My dear Janusz had passed two years before: heart attack, sudden and unexpected. Just as if someone turned off the light. It was a very difficult time. Our company was going through a massive crisis. Many collaborators turned out to be dishonest. Our employees left for the competition, taking with them most of our clients. And I... Oh, well. I just started learning the business, this thing I had been living off of for the last 28 years.

“On that August day, in the dress I always wore once a year on my wedding anniversary, I was returning from the cemetery when I heard someone calling my name, ‘Ziuta?’ I turned around and saw Tomasz, our family doctor and a close friend of my late husband’s from his early school days. Even from behind, and twenty-five years later to the day, he had recognized me from what I was wearing. I looked at him a bit shocked: he was wearing sweatpants and trainers and holding a tray of beers. After a moment, he explained where he was going and why, and that I couldn’t refuse to spend that evening with him and his friends.

“I had the most wonderful time that evening. And a few days later, that gentleman from the barbeque called who remembered I was in a wood-trading business. He asked if I had any contacts for wood traders in Russia. He had information that the Russian authorities were about to drastically increase tariffs on wood, and he had a client who would buy any amount of larch. I not only had the contacts but I also had a plan."

Well, to me, Ziuta back then seemed lost. She might have had no idea what she was doing, but she surely knew what she wanted to do. She wanted to make an impression. And Ziuta's performance at the memorable barbeque was a one-on-one making-an-impression masterclass. She hadn’t been prepared to come to the barbeque that day. The opportunity had come as a surprise. And perhaps some of the guests still remember her, as I had, as the crazy wood lady whose high heels didn't do well on the mud. But she only needed one person to remember her for something very specific to have her life changed into something extraordinary.

It’s all about the difference between having sight and having vision.