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melt.
    I open my eyes and bring myself back to reality. Rinsing my body, I step out of the shower and onto the cold tile floor. Maybe I should take Mom’s advice and start dating again.
    I need to clear my head before this meeting. This is my first chance to make an impression during my professional career. I have to make a positive you-could-really-be-something impression today. I know from experience how a bad impression can leave a lasting image.
    My sophomore year of college, I sat in the front row of my advertising class, trying to make a good impression. Sitting in the back or even middle rows had never worked for me. It had proven to be too much distraction for my fidgety mind. Just before class began, a woman casually dressed in a college logo T-shirt and worn-looking dark denim jeans took a seat next to me. She asked if she could borrow a pen even though I noticed she didn’t have a notebook. Although it seemed odd that she needed a pen, I handed one over just the same.
    “Have you heard much about this class?” she asked, settling into an easy slouch in the uncomfortable wood chair.
    I watched as she rolled my pen back and forth between her fingers. “Not really. From looking over the course’s web page, it seems like the teacher thinks we have no other classes or much of a life outside of this course.”
    “I wonder if your first boss might have the same opinion when you’re working on the biggest advertising proposal of the year,” she responded matter-of-factly before leaving her front row seat to stand behind the lectern at the head of the classroom. “My name is Professor Moore. Welcome to Advertising 201.”
    She never let me live down that first interaction. She would often ask me if my nose was numb from being stuck in my homework. Lesson learned: Always ask for names and credentials before beginning a conversation.
    For today’s good impression, first on my checklist is a killer outfit. I stole a few pieces from Caroline’s closet. I doubt she would ever miss such a miniscule slice of her wardrobe. I slip on the beautiful green top and knee-length pencil skirt. After pairing the outfit with some killer black heels, I survey myself in the mirror. This will definitely turn heads while still looking professional. It’s nothing like what I normally wear, even to work, but I need to stand out for this meeting.
    Second, I have to be prepared for absolutely any scenario. Along with the pages my boss gave me, I have a few notes of my own. Of course, my thoughts are a last resort since my boss made it clear that his ideas sold the company on letting us have a seat at the table.
    Finally, I need to make lasting contacts. I brought a handful of my new business cards with all the necessary contact information.
    With these three things in place, I’m sure someone will take notice and remember me when I walk out the door.
    My boss emailed a map with walking directions from the hotel to where the meeting is being held. With plenty of time to spare, I leave the hotel, walking at a steady pace. I take in the noises of the city—cars honking, people yelling, and many of my sidewalk companions huffing as they push through to reach their destination quickly. Overall, this city does not give off a friendly feeling, but it’s different, and I can appreciate the unique atmosphere.
    Right before I reach the address of the office building, I notice a construction site blocking not only the road ahead but also the sidewalks leading to the building where my meeting is being held. Batting my eyelashes, I give a sweet smile to a construction worker.
    “Hi, there. Any way you could let me through? I have a meeting in the building just past that fence,” I say, pointing.
    He groans under his breath, obviously annoyed by my presence, and then he spouts off a line that sounds as rehearsed as a Broadway play. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he says with no regret on his face. “You’ll have to walk around the block. This area