CHAPTER 16. PART 1. HILL & KNOWLTON – THE BEST PR AGENCY OF 2003

?After my time at ADSB, I was offered a position in Dubai at the prestigious Hill & Knowlton agency. The recommendation came from a British recruiter, whose name I can no longer recall. Somehow, he knew of me, although I had never met him. Our phone interviews were lengthy, and he was particularly impressed by my background as an athlete. He believed that this experience would enable me to "propel" the company to the top of its field. While I had never considered my work in such a way, his observation rang true. Every athlete is inherently driven to achieve victory – to lead their team or organisation to success, even when faced with resistance.

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This role marked my first foray into the unknown. I left behind my beloved Simmerland and moved to Dubai with my three-year-old daughter. The decision was not easy, but one factor tipped the scales: my daughter had started figure skating, and there were no professional coaches in Abu Dhabi – only instructors. Dubai, however, had the only qualified coach in the country, Ludmila from Ukraine. Another crucial factor was the employer’s offer of a salary of 10,000 dirhams. In 2003, this was a generous amount for a small family, more than enough to afford the finest nursery in Dubai, which charged 2,000 dirhams per month.

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Hill & Knowlton was a British company, with its headquarters in London. The structure was meticulously organised: the Managing Director and Office Manager were both from London, while the account managers, senior account managers, and their assistants were predominantly European or Arab. The administrative roles – HR, accounting, and reception – were held by Indian staff. I was the sole anomaly within this structure.

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The company’s client list was nothing short of impressive: Burger King, PepsiCo, Neutrogena, Johnson & Johnson, Aqua, HP, and many other globally renowned brands. Each manager had their own clients, team, and projects. I was tasked with overseeing a team of Arab staff members who managed the daily distribution of press releases. It was in this role that I first learned the intricacies of press releases and how to craft them effectively.

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The Hill & Knowlton team was remarkable for its intelligence, creativity, and exceptional skills. What intrigued me most was that approximately 60% of the staff were left-handed. This was a first for me. There is a theory that left-handed individuals are natural writers, though perhaps not strong in mathematics. While my mother’s mathematical prowess might dispute the latter, there was no denying the former. That year, Hill & Knowlton was recognised as the best PR agency in the world, and its left-handed employees produced extraordinary written work that captivated and convinced.

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The company also housed a small library filled with professional literature. It provided resources to master press release writing, plan high-impact PR campaigns, and navigate the complexities of working with international clients. I was entrusted with managing the library, and I spent every lunch break engrossed in its books. One of the most valuable lessons I learned was this: never antagonise the press, no matter how challenging or unpleasant they may appear. The press wields immense power; they can elevate your reputation or irreparably damage it. I was fortunate to always maintain excellent relationships with journalists, both in the Emirates and in Russia. They willingly published my articles and conducted interviews with me. These were highly educated individuals who understood the weight of words.

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My time in the library had a profound impact on me. I delved into the art of linguistic framing, exploring how words influence human psychology and the importance of selecting the right phrasing. These lessons proved invaluable, not only in PR but throughout my professional journey. Hill & Knowlton was more than just a job for me – it was a transformative experience and an unparalleled education.

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The team of Arab women responsible for sending press releases consisted of five individuals, but two of them left a lasting impression on me. The first was a young woman from Jordan. Her intelligence, diligence, and initiative stood out, and to me, she epitomised the qualities of her nation. Among all Arabs, Jordanians seem to me the most industrious and capable.

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The second was a petite, beautiful woman from Kuwait with stunning curly hair. What struck me most was her profound knowledge of Dostoevsky. We often discussed his works, and I discovered that her family in Kuwait were avid admirers of the Russian author. They owned his entire library translated into Arabic, and she had read and re-read his books, savouring every word. As for me, aside from Crime and Punishment, which I read at school, I knew very little about Dostoevsky and hadn’t even touched The Idiot. It made me feel ashamed, unable to share her enthusiasm or hold an in-depth discussion. Fortunately, I had read much of Russian classical literature during my school years, thanks to my strict and demanding literature teacher, Irina Andreyevna. It helped me engage in broader conversations about Russian classics. Still, I wondered how those who hadn’t read such works in childhood managed to avoid the embarrassment of being outshone by an enthusiastic foreigner. That said, I had also encountered French, American, and even British individuals who knew far less about their own literary traditions than I did. They, however, didn’t seem embarrassed or were exceptionally skilled at hiding it.

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The Kuwaiti woman wasn’t only knowledgeable about Dostoevsky; she also admired Chekhov and Tolstoy. She firmly believed that anyone who reads Russian classics deserves an honorary degree in psychology, and I wholeheartedly agreed.

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I also recall two Indian women. One was a young, pragmatic receptionist. She amazed me with her quick thinking and ability to resolve any issue with remarkable efficiency. Senior administrators often sought her advice on practical matters, in which they seemed as helpless as children. I asked her why she worked at the front desk when her intellect was clearly suited for greater things. Prithi, as she was called, told me her manager repeatedly implied she wasn’t clever enough. I reassured her, saying, “Prithi, you are incredibly smart. Your manager says that to everyone—it’s not a reflection of your abilities.”

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The second Indian woman was a seasoned, calm, and composed accountant. I admired her for her poise and restraint, even in the face of absurdities or outright nonsense. She listened patiently and responded with wisdom and maturity. From her, I learned the value of remaining composed and unflappable, regardless of the chaos around me.

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Our manager, on the other hand, was a completely different story. A Palestinian by ethnicity, she was raised in London and possessed a brilliant British education. With an impressive career in PR, she had worked for five years in the company’s London office before being transferred to Dubai. Fluent in both English and Arabic, she was celebrated for her writing talent and successful PR campaigns. On paper, she seemed like the perfect leader. However, in reality, she was a highly toxic and deeply challenging person to work with. At 42 years old, never married, and childless, she was, I suspect, a strict adherent to her principles and faith. She had a knack for psychological manipulation, expertly making others feel insignificant, incompetent, and worthless.

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One incident remains particularly vivid. Our PRO—a Syrian responsible for handling visas and documents—refused to work with her after a heated argument. In front of the entire office, he declared he would not step into her office again and would only deal with me. Although Arabic was their mutual native language, he insisted on conducting our discussions in English, explaining, “Our manager is ignorant and clueless about documentation and visa processes, and she has no desire to learn.”

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Working under her was so mentally exhausting that I eventually took an international IQ test to prove to myself that I wasn’t the incompetent person she made me feel like. Scoring 162, I joined a high-IQ society, not to impress anyone else, but to reclaim my self-esteem. In my desperate attempts to please her, I even sought advice from specialists on how to earn her approval. One Arab consultant listened to my story and said, “The only thing you can do for her is find her a husband.”

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She was one of the most toxic and unpleasant people I’ve encountered in my career, and her behaviour strained many of us in the office. It was my second bad experience with a female manager, and it convinced me that women bosses were not for me. They often seemed overly emotional, unpredictable, and illogical. Going to work felt like navigating a minefield, never knowing what mood they’d be in or how to communicate effectively with them.