“Well, somebody has their priorities straight.”

I unpacked the Barbie polish set and the plastic rings I hadn’t used. Megan gasped at the sight.

“Oh my gosh! Mom, they’re beautiful!”

She examined the rings, then noticed the open bottles.

“Wait. Why are some of these bottles open?”

“Funny story, sweetheart. I had to borrow a little polish on the airplane.”

“For what?”

I sat beside her and recounted the incident. By the time I described the absurdly large rings, Megan was almost rolling across the floor with laughter.

“Mom! You gave a grown man a Barbie makeover?”

“Only his feet.”

“Did he like it?”

“Not particularly.”

“That’s amazing!”

She dissolved into another fit of giggles.

“What color did you use?”

“Almost every shade. His big toe was hot pink, and I gave the others a lovely assortment.”

“Mom! That’s amazing!”

She selected the brightest bottle and immediately began painting her own toenails. I reminded her about our schedule.

“Careful, sweetheart. We have an early morning tomorrow.”

“Why? Do you have to work?”

“I have a very important meeting.”

“With who?”

“Some people I’ve never worked with before.”

Megan paused to inspect her freshly painted toe.

“Are you nervous, Mom?”

“A little. I’m meeting some people I’ve never worked with before.”

“You’ll be fine. You’re really good at talking to people.”

“That’s sweet of you.”

She held up her polish bottle with a knowing expression.

“And if anyone’s mean, you know what to do.”

I couldn’t help laughing.

“I don’t think that’s appropriate office behavior.”

“Well, it worked on the airplane!”

I couldn’t argue. After finishing her nails, I tucked her into bed and kissed her forehead.

“Goodnight, my little troublemaker.”

“Goodnight, Mommy. Good luck tomorrow!”

I turned out the light, smiling. Tomorrow would be interesting.

The next morning, I dressed in my favorite navy-blue pantsuit, brewed strong coffee, and checked my messages. Three were waiting, all related to my ten o’clock meeting. I answered a couple of questions and checked the time.

Megan sat at the kitchen table eating cereal, two oversized toy rings gleaming on her fingers.

“Mommy, you’re going to be late!”

“Actually, sweetheart, I’m right on schedule.”

She gave my outfit a thoughtful once-over.

“Are you going to tell everyone at work about the airplane?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why?”

“Some stories are better left at thirty thousand feet.”

Megan shook her head disapprovingly.

“I think everybody should know about the Barbie feet.”

I smiled at her persistence.

“Maybe someday. Now finish your cereal.”

“Can I tell Grandma?”

“Please don’t.”

Her grin suggested Grandma would know by lunchtime.

After taking Megan to school, I drove to my office. The receptionist welcomed me as I stepped inside.

“Good morning! Everyone’s gathering upstairs.”

“Perfect. Thank you.”

I was ten minutes early. Near the conference room, someone was telling a story.

“You should’ve seen this crazy woman! Completely ruined my flight!”

I stopped. I knew that voice and approached the partly open door. Hearing him recount the same incident from the opposite side was almost too perfect to believe.

“She actually painted my toenails while I was sleeping!” the man continued indignantly.

A woman responded, sounding astonished.

“You’re kidding!”

“I wish I was! Some people have absolutely no manners!”

I pressed my lips tightly together. Of all the things he could complain about, he’d chosen manners.

Someone else asked a perfectly reasonable question.

“Well, what did you do to make her so angry?”

“Nothing! Absolutely nothing! She just couldn’t mind her own business!”

Five minutes remained. I stayed outside to hear more.

“Honestly, I should’ve reported her to the police,” the man continued.

A woman sounded incredulous.

“For painting your toenails?”

“For harassing me! I was minding my own business when she started complaining about absolutely nothing.”

“What was she complaining about?” another man asked.

“Something about personal space. Ridiculous, really. The woman wanted everyone to accommodate her.”

He conveniently omitted his foot on my armrest.

“So why’d she paint your nails?”

He gave a dismissive snort.

“Some women just can’t handle being told no.”

Several people laughed uncomfortably. Someone tried to lighten the mood.

“Well, at least she picked a nice color,” someone joked.

“Very funny,” he snapped. “Do you have any idea how difficult that stuff is to remove?”

More laughter followed. I covered my mouth. Megan’s polish was worth every penny.

“Anyway, enough about that lunatic,” he continued. “We’ve got more important things to discuss.”

“Like our new regional director?” someone asked.

“Exactly.”

His tone shifted into unmistakable self-assurance.

“Between us, I expect my promotion will be announced pretty soon.”

“That’s optimistic, Bradley,” a woman replied.

“Optimistic? I’ve practically been running this place already.”

“Nobody’s even met the new director yet.”

“Doesn’t matter. I know how to handle people in charge.”

I lifted an eyebrow. Did he, indeed?

“First impressions are everything,” Bradley continued. “You walk in, shake hands, show some confidence. That’s how you get ahead.”

“And what if the new director doesn’t like you?” someone teased.

He laughed confidently.

“Please. What’s not to like?”

I had several answers, though I decided to keep every one of them to myself for another few minutes.

“I guarantee I’ll have this person eating out of my hand before lunch,” he added.

Footsteps sounded behind me as I suppressed a laugh. My assistant, Sophie, arrived with a folder. She glanced from the conference room back to my face.

“Ready?”

I straightened my jacket and settled the folder under my arm.

“Oh, absolutely.”

Bradley had been correct about one thing: first impressions mattered enormously.

Sophie opened the conference-room door.

“Everyone, our new regional director is here.”

I stepped inside, and conversation died instantly.

Bradley was seated near the head of the table, wearing the same confident smile I’d seen on the airplane. His smile disappeared when he recognized me. He looked winded.

I offered the room a pleasant smile.

“Good morning. I’m Rebecca. And unless I’m mistaken, we’ve already met.”

Bradley’s mouth hung open.

“You?”

I went over to him and held out my hand.

“It’s nice to see you again, Bradley. How are your feet?”

Someone snorted, and several others started laughing. Bradley hesitated before reluctantly shaking my hand.

“I had no idea you worked here.”

“And I had no idea you worked here. Small world.”

His face reddened. I surveyed the table.

“I believe Bradley was just telling you about an interesting flight.”

The laughter faded. Bradley swallowed hard.

“Well, I… It wasn’t exactly…”

“Oh, please, don’t stop on my account. I’d love to hear the version where you explain why your bare foot was on my armrest.”

A man near the window dropped his pen.

“Your WHAT?” someone exclaimed.

Bradley glanced anxiously from one colleague to another.

“It was a misunderstanding!”

“Really? Because I remember asking you to move it several times.”

“Rebecca, surely we can discuss this privately—”

“Of course. But since you’ve already shared your version with everyone, I thought they might appreciate the missing details.”

A woman across the table was laughing openly now.

“Wait. You’re the woman with the nail polish?”

“Guilty.”

“Oh my God!”

Bradley hid his face behind his hands. I gave everyone a moment to regain their composure before speaking again.

“Bradley, I heard everything you said outside this room. Including how you treat people who apparently aren’t important enough to impress.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Fortunately, we’re going to have plenty of opportunities to get to know each other.”

I moved to the head of the conference table and sat down.

“Now, before we discuss anyone’s promotion, perhaps we should discuss what respecting other people actually means.”

Bradley stared at his notebook, finally speechless. The contrast with the man who had been boasting only minutes earlier could hardly have been greater.

After the meeting ended, he came up to me with considerably less confidence.

“I’m sorry about the flight,” he muttered.

“Apology accepted. Your promotion will depend on your work and how you treat your colleagues. Nothing else.”

He nodded and started walking away. His trouser leg shifted, exposing a faint pink stain near his ankle.

“Bradley?”

He paused.

“Yes?”

I couldn’t resist a final smile.

“You missed a spot.”

He stared down in horror.

That evening, I told Megan that her Barbie nail polish had made quite an impression.

“Did he like it this time?” she asked.

I laughed.

“Let’s just say he finally learned to keep his feet to himself.”