I sometimes joke that I didn’t join the family business — I grew up inside it.

My earliest memories aren’t of playgrounds or cartoons, but of metal dust, the hum of polishing machines, and trays of half-finished rings. When other kids played “store,” I was walking around our factory with a stack of sticky notes, giving imaginary “promotions” to the goldsmiths who let me watch them work. I’d leave those little yellow notes on their benches — “New title: Master of Shiny Things” or “Best Polisher of the Month.” They still remind me of it sometimes.

Back then, I didn’t understand what production schedules or quality control meant — I just loved the rhythm of it all. The quiet concentration, the way everyone’s hands seemed to tell their own story. I learned early that jewelry wasn’t just about sparkle — it was about patience, precision, and pride.

When I moved to the United States, I thought I was leaving the jewelry world behind for a while. Instead, I found myself right back in it — just on a different side. I spent almost ten years working around the beauty and fashion industries, learning how global brands think, how trends are built, and how emotion becomes a product. I discovered what makes something feel desirable, not just beautiful. That time changed the way I see craftsmanship. It taught me how storytelling, branding, and design can turn a small piece of metal into something people connect with — deeply and personally.

Coming back home to Poland felt like closing a circle. The factory hadn’t changed much — same walls, same smell, same energy — but I had. I returned not just as the owner’s daughter, but as the new COO, ready to look at everything with fresh eyes. Suddenly, the things I used to take for granted — the noise of the machines, the way sunlight hits a newly polished ring — all carried new meaning.

Now, my days are filled with process maps, production schedules, and endless conversations about efficiency and innovation. But every time I walk through the facility, I still see that child with a sticky note in hand — curious, fearless, and convinced that every small gesture matters.

And honestly, that’s still how I lead.

With curiosity. With heart. And with deep respect for the craft that built me long before I knew what a “career” was.