I forgot to shake hands and be friendly. It was an important

Host: The night hung low over the city, a misty veil of streetlight halos and quiet neon sighs. Inside a nearly empty diner, the air was thick with the scent of burnt coffee and metal — the kind of place where reflections seemed to linger longer than people.

The jukebox was silent, the waitress half-asleep, and Jack sat in the corner booth, his suit jacket folded, tie loose, eyes weary but awake — the look of a man who had just stared down another failure and wasn’t sure whether to curse it or thank it.

Jeeny entered, coat dripping from the rain, her footsteps soft on the linoleum floor. She slid into the booth opposite, her dark eyes alive with concern and a hint of teasing warmth.

Jeeny: quietly “Lee Iacocca once said, ‘I forgot to shake hands and be friendly. It was an important lesson about leadership.’”

Her voice was gentle, but her eyes searched his, testing the space between fatigue and pride. “You’ve been talking about leadership all week, Jack. Tell me — have you ever forgotten to shake hands?”

Jack: leans back, half-smile creeping across his face “More than once. Sometimes I forget that leadership isn’t about direction — it’s about connection. But that’s the problem, isn’t it? The world doesn’t reward friendliness; it rewards results.”

Jeeny: tilts her head “Maybe that’s why leaders like Iacocca stand out — because they remember what the world forgets. You can command respect, Jack, but if you don’t earn trust, you’re just another boss in a suit.”

Jack: his laugh is dry, self-mocking “Trust. Such a fragile currency. You spend years earning it and lose it in a second. Maybe that’s why I prefer distance — you can’t disappoint people you don’t touch.”

Host: The light from the window flickered, a passing car splashing the glass with silver rainlight. Jack’s reflection looked older, haunted, half-lost behind the steam of his coffee. Jeeny’s face, by contrast, glowed softly, her presence the one thing real in a world that felt manufactured.

Jeeny: “But leadership isn’t about distance, Jack. It’s about presence. You can’t lead from behind a window — you have to walk among the people you’re trying to inspire. You have to listen, not just speak.”

Jack: quietly, with edge “You say that like it’s easy. You think leaders can afford to feel all the time? You get too close, you break. I’ve seen it happen — good people crushed by their own empathy. Sometimes you have to choose: heart or head.”

Jeeny: leans forward, voice rising just slightly “Then choose both. The head to guide, the heart to understand. The best leaders don’t protect themselves from people — they remember they are people. That’s what Iacocca meant when he said he forgot to shake hands — he forgot to be human.”

Host: The clock above the counter ticked, slow and methodical, as if counting regrets. A truck rumbled past outside, casting ripples of light across their faces.

Jack: staring at the tabletop “Maybe I’ve been leading wrong my whole life. I thought if you were competent, people would follow. Turns out, they only follow if they believe you see them.”

Jeeny: softly “Exactly. Competence earns obedience. Connection earns loyalty. And loyalty — real loyalty — doesn’t come from fear, it comes from feeling seen.”

Jack: “And yet the world keeps promoting those who can control, not those who can connect.”

Jeeny: smiles sadly “Because the world is afraid of kindness. It confuses it for weakness. But leadership isn’t about being soft — it’s about being strong enough to care.”

Jack: sighs, voice lowering “You really believe that care can change things?”

Jeeny: “Of course. Because care changes people, and people change things. The rest is just management — leadership starts when you look someone in the eye and they feel known.”

Host: The rain had stopped, but the air still shimmered with its memory. Silence settled between them — not the cold silence of distance, but the heavy quiet of truth sinking in.

Jack rubbed his temple, his voice soft, almost a confession.
“I used to think leadership was about getting results, winning respect, setting direction. But maybe it’s about remembering — remembering that every hand you shake is a life you touch, and every word you say becomes a mirror for someone else’s worth.”

Jeeny: nods slowly, eyes shimmering “Yes, Jack. The lesson isn’t about manners — it’s about presence. Iacocca learned it the hard way, like most of us do. You can lead without titles, you can teach without speaking, but you can’t inspire without being there.”

Jack: a small smile forming, tired but real “Being there... Funny. That sounds harder than all the strategy in the world.”

Jeeny: smiles back “It is. Because it means risking yourself. It means shaking hands even when you’re afraid they won’t shake back.”

Host: The lamp above them dimmed slightly, casting longer shadows across the booth. Jeeny’s hand rested on the table, still, open, as if to test him.

Jack looked at it, then reached out, hesitating, before taking it gently. His grip firm, warm, human.

Jack: quietly, with a wry smile “Maybe that’s the first step, huh? Remembering to shake hands.”

Jeeny: softly, her thumb brushing his knuckles “No. The first step is meaning it.”

Host: The rain clouds broke, and a pale moonlight spilled through the window, illuminating the steam rising from their cups. The city breathed again, alive, restless, but gentler somehow — as if it, too, had remembered the value of touch.

Jack leaned back, a quiet peace settling over him, his reflection no longer that of a man burdened, but of one who had learned — not from books, but from being human again.

And as the light shifted, and their hands remained joined, it became clear what the lesson truly was —
that leadership begins not with authority,
but with empathy;
not in strategy,
but in the simple, courageous act of reaching out — and meaning it.