“Bruttokansantuote” she cried, the Finnish word for GDP. She was tired, so tired. She was in her late fifties, born on the Day of Minna Canth, a Finnish writer and social activist addressing issues of women's rights in her work.
She had noticed her niceness deteriorating. She had started to add more often lipstick during her office days, something that had always been indicating her frustration: an arrogant client - lipstick, an idea despising male superior - lipstick, an uncivilized discussion - lipstick, and so on.
Now the lipstick wasn’t working anymore - her heels were clacking louder than was needed and her eyes behind the reading glasses were sending glances of disapproval. Where had the niceness gone?
The CEO didn't remember the Finnish word for the gross domestic product, and instead of saying this politely and rather shyly she cried the word so loud that everybody in the room turned her way and silence that took place lasted a minute or more.
Most of her colleagues saw her now for the first time. And then, something happened that is actually the reason why I am telling you the story.
After the silence of one minute or more, she stood up, collected her key card, reading classes, mobile phone and her computer. And when the CEO continued the presentation our woman walked away. Everybody in the room had already forgotten her.
She left her key card, computer and the mobile phone on the desk. She packed her reading glasses in her bag. In the bag she had a parachute. Wearing the parachute she walked to the closest window. And she jumped. The highest highrise in Helsinki is around 130 meters. The story doesn’t tell if she jumped from the top floor of that building.
