It’s officially been a month since I started working at Fundación ACOBE, and I feel like I’ve finally adjusted to the rhythm of Madrid—not just in terms of life outside the office, but in the workplace, too. At first, it was easier to separate the slow pace of Spanish daily life from my American sense of time management. I was more than happy to take my time over a café con leche, walk slowly through Retiro Park, or spend hours browsing through local shops. But I figured that once I stepped into a professional environment, the “real world” clock would take over. I was wrong.

From day one, I noticed that the pace at ACOBE was far more relaxed than anything I’d experienced in the U.S. My boss would arrive a bit after the office officially opened, take her time settling in, and sometimes head out mid-morning for breakfast—even with clients scheduled. And we’re not talking about a quick bagel while answering emails. I mean a real, sit-down breakfast with toast, coffee, and conversation. Meanwhile, clients might be waiting, some arriving early, some very late, and some calling in as they wandered the neighborhood trying to find our location.

Initially, this gave me anxiety. I kept glancing at the clock, checking the schedule, and wondering when we’d catch up. I’m used to work environments where punctuality is non-negotiable and everything runs on a tight schedule. In the U.S., being “on time” usually means arriving early. At ACOBE, it sometimes means showing up whenever you can get there.

But I quickly realized this wasn’t laziness or inefficiency. It was cultural. My supervisor once told me, almost offhandedly, that it’s better to take your time and do things well than to rush through them just to stay on schedule. She called rushing “a very American habit,” and I laughed—but also felt called out. Because she was right. I’ve always equated professionalism with speed and order. Being early. Checking things off a list. Keeping everything moving. But here, the priority is presence. Taking the time to actually listen to a client. Making space for the full story, even if it means going over time. It’s not about sticking to a rigid structure—it’s about human connection.

And I’ve seen the impact of that firsthand. Clients don’t just come to ACOBE for a quick transaction. They come for advice, for legal support, for emotional validation, and for someone to really hear them. Many are dealing with complex challenges—immigration processes, housing instability, or employment discrimination. These aren’t issues that can be resolved in 15-minute increments. The slowness isn’t a lack of professionalism; it’s a form of care.

Of course, that doesn’t mean I’ve completely let go of my internal clock. I still wince when appointments start 30 minutes late or when the printer doesn’t work and no one seems too concerned. But I’m learning to relax. I’ve stopped jumping up to solve every issue immediately. I’ve started paying more attention to how I listen to people, not just how quickly I can get them what they need. And oddly enough, I think I’ve become more effective by slowing down.

This has made me reflect on how workplace norms in the U.S. are shaped by cultural values like individualism, competition, and constant productivity. In Spain, and especially in a nonprofit like ACOBE, there’s a greater emphasis on community, patience, and mutual respect. I don’t think one is inherently better than the other—they both have strengths and drawbacks—but being immersed in a different approach has forced me to reconsider my own habits. I used to think flexibility meant being able to juggle multiple tasks at once. Now I think it might mean being able to let go of control and trust the process—even if it’s slow.

From a professional development standpoint, this lesson is invaluable. The world isn’t a monolith, and as someone who wants to work in international or multicultural spaces, I can’t expect my way of doing things to always translate. Adapting to a new pace, a new sense of urgency (or lack thereof), and a new definition of professionalism is part of becoming globally competent. It’s not just about speaking the language or knowing the laws—it’s about understanding the cultural logic behind how people work, relate, and make decisions.

So yes, you’ll get seen when you get seen. That phrase has become a kind of inside joke for me now—something I whisper to myself when the waiting room is full and the clock is ticking. But it’s also become a personal mantra. A reminder that time isn’t always the enemy. That sometimes, taking it slow is the most respectful thing you can do. And that being adaptable isn’t just a soft skill on a résumé—it’s a daily practice.

This weekend, I traveled south to Málaga and spent time exploring the coastal side of Andalusia. We started at Las Playas del Palo, where the atmosphere was calm and local, with fishing boats lining the shore, families sunbathing, and fresh sardines grilling just a few steps from the water. On Saturday, we visited Algarrobo Costa for even more beach time, walking along the boardwalk and soaking our toes in the water. The highlight of the trip was climbing up to Gibralfaro Castle, where we had panoramic views of Málaga’s coastline, the cathedral, and the rooftops of the historic censer. The contrast between bustling Madrid and peaceful Málaga reminded me just how much variety Spain offers, both geographically and culturally, and gave me a moment to pause and reflect on how much I’ve adapted to life here.