CTRL+Z: The one where I insulted Ukraine’s Vice Prime Minister.
Hey there, It’s Sunday—grab a coffee, sit back, and enjoy the first edition of CTRL+Z. I hope you like it. Let’s go. The SetupIn 2011, I got an invitation to speak at a startup event in Kyiv, Ukraine. The conference was organized by Viktoriya, whom I had briefly met at TNW Conference in Amsterdam. When she asked me to come over, I immediately said yes. I love speaking at events, and for some reason, the Central Eastern Europe crowd seemed to enjoy my style—this was already my fourth time in the region. Viktoriya arranged a room for me in a fancy hotel and even sent a driver to pick me up. Not bad. About 30 minutes after I arrived, I got an invite to a pre-event dinner on the hotel’s top floor. It was for speakers, sponsors, and a special guest: Serhiy Tigipko, Ukraine's Vice Prime Minister (who also happened to be a billionaire and one of Ukraine’s most successful businessmen). The DinnerIn my mind, there was no dress code. So I strolled into the elevator in jeans and a t-shirt, full Amsterdam casual. I arrived fashionably late. The room was packed, the setting was elegant, and the first person I bumped into was a mid-fifties man in a sharp suit and tie. His name tag read: Ah, the guest of honor. Perfect. Standing beside him was a translator. Our conversation went like this: Me: "It's great to be here." It was clunky, slow, and awkward. To top it off, I was clearly underdressed, and my usual small talk wasn’t landing. The MomentThen, a stunning woman walked up to us. She greeted me warmly. It took me a second to realize—this was Viktoriya! Saved by the bell. She properly introduced me to Mr. Tigipko in both languages. As she stood next to him, I glanced at her name tag: Oh. Ohhh. (I connected the dots!) I turned to Mr. Tigipko and confidently said: “I must say, you have a lovely daughter.” The translator froze. He looked away like he was suddenly very interested in the ceiling. Tigipko stared at me, stone-faced, like Ivan Drago in Rocky IV. A pause. A deep breath. Then, a slow grin spread across his face as he replied, in a thick Ukrainian accent: “She’s my wife.” Silence. Then—it hit me. This wasn’t an insult. This was perfect. Viktoriya was happy because I clearly thought she looked much younger. Tigipko was happy because, well, I just told him he still had game. Even the translator looked relieved that the Ukrainian Intelligence Service didn’t step in. The AftermathIt turned out to be a great icebreaker, and the rest of the night went smoothly. Shoutout to Viktoriya for the invite—I’ll never forget this one. There you go—the first CTRL+Z. If you liked it, pass it on to a friend in tech (BCC me —patrick@hey.com—so I can thank you). Or drop a comment / feedback on my LinkedIn post here 🙏🏼. And if you didn’t like it? Well… feel free to unsubscribe from this nonsense. Cheers, Patrick |
