Boston.

I am currently en route to Boston for a 24 hour business trip.

Yes, you read that correctly: twenty-four hours. Door to door. In, out, no survivors.

On the agenda: one client dinner and a four hour presentation to the CMO of a food and beverage brand you have absolutely heard of and have almost certainly had in your house, presented alongside our CRO and two SVPs from my company, which is how you know this is not a casual meeting.

This is not a brainstorm. This is not a “let’s jam.” This is a sit up straight, choose your words carefully, and do not say anything you cannot defend with at least three backup slides type situation.

I lived in Boston for almost three years, which means I am legally allowed to say this: Boston is not my people.

I know some of you love it. You say things like “It has character” and “It’s so historic” and “You just have to get used to the winters.” That last one is not a personality trait, it's a coping mechanism.

The weather is bad. Not quirky bad. Just bad. Cold, gray, damp, and personally offended by joy. The wind is aggressive. The sun is a rumor.

And the people. Efficient. Intelligent. Direct. And completely uninterested in warmth of any kind. Emotional, conversational, or otherwise.

Boston is a city where someone will give you directions that are technically correct, but delivered in a tone that suggests you should have known better than to ask.

Which makes it perfect for business.

Boston does not want your small talk. Boston wants your data. Boston wants your logic tight, your numbers cleaner than your shoes, and your conclusion backed by slides you hoped no one would request but absolutely will.

So I will land. I will put on my big girl shoes. I will eat the client dinner. I will present tomorrow morning for four hours, and I will nod confidently while thinking about literally anywhere else on earth.

And then I will leave.

No lingering. No nostalgia. No temptation to “just walk around a bit.”

Some places shape you. Some places teach you resilience. Some places simply remind you exactly who you are not.

Boston and I have an agreement. I show up prepared. It stays Boston, I stay me, I leave. The end.