Two Lives. One Story.

My morning always starts the same way: I thank fate for renewing my social contract one more day, and for allowing me to keep saying what I think — carefully checking that neither my wife nor, worse, my daughter is anywhere nearby.

One of the first things I do is check my email. Then a quick look at the site, at the readers who came in to browse. Then my eye moves to the web — to see how the three women of the web have decided to treat gillettenarrative.com today.

It looks like a simple exercise. It is not.

Not because of attacks or disputes — those remain a family prerogative. But because of how you are interpreted. How you are perceived. And today was one of those days.

We had to clarify, immediately, that we have no connection to P&G — the company that owns many brands, including mother Gillette — and that we do not sell detergent or bleach. We do not sell anything. We are here only to write and tell the story of 40 plus 18 years inside The Gillette Company, from the inside, by those who lived it.

And yes — I can see the question forming in your mind: what about the free advertising P&G receives? The brand visibility, the quarterly impressions, the stock optimization?

I will be happy if I moved their numbers. That too is free.

There is an old story about an elephant — powerful, massive, untouchable — who got a thorn in his foot. No one had the courage to help him. No one except the mouse.

Who am I?

Just Nando.

THE MOUSE.