Here’s what being the only woman at the table taught me about respect.

I was in my early 30s when I became president of Syms Corp., a publicly traded company pioneering the off-price retail model. The term “glass ceiling” hadn’t even gone mainstream. I didn’t think of myself as a trailblazer. I thought of myself as a daughter continuing the legacy of a business my father started from the ground up. 

But very quickly I realized that I was not just taking over a company; I was stepping into rooms where no one looked like me — rooms full of older men, rooms where being underestimated was standard, rooms where speaking up meant being labeled “difficult” or “emotional.” I wasn’t just the youngest at the table — I was the only woman. That never stopped me, but it did shape me.

Early in my leadership, I learned something simple but defining: When people feel respected, they stay. They work harder. They trust. And when they don’t, they quietly disappear — emotionally first, physically later.

That’s a lesson I didn’t pick up from a consultant or an MBA case study. I learned it on the store floor. Retail is personal. Every day our employees showed up to help people find clothes for job interviews, weddings, funerals, and first dates. We weren’t just selling products — we were part of people’s lives. I saw firsthand how much better the work was when our teams felt valued. Our turnover stayed low. Our service stayed high. Our customers returned. Respect isn’t a “soft” skill. It’s a survival strategy, and it’s one too many leaders ignore — until it’s too late.

Of course, not every story ends in a win. There was a vendor deal — a big one, the kind that came with a national rollout and lots of upside. The team was excited, but something didn’t sit right with me. The financials felt overinflated. The pace felt rushed. I flagged my concerns in the room, but I didn’t push back hard enough. Everyone was eager, and I didn’t want to be the hold-up.

We signed. Six months later, it folded. We were left with unsellable inventory and some angry partners, but that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was what it did to me. For weeks afterward, I questioned my instincts. I lost my footing. I started second-guessing my judgment in rooms where I had once spoken with confidence — and when that happens at the top, it trickles down.

Eventually, I found my voice again — but only after promising myself I’d never ignore it to make other people comfortable. That mistake taught me what experience often does: It’s not just about being right. It’s about being willing to stand alone, even when it’s unpopular.

In the decades since, I’ve seen every flavor of leadership — the command-and-control types, the absentee delegators, the charismatic heroes — but the leaders people remember, the ones they want to follow, share one common thread: They treat others with respect.

I often get asked what I’m proudest of. It’s not our IPO. It’s not how we scaled nationally. It’s not even that we were the first true off-price retailer in America. It’s this: People stayed. They stayed with us for 10, 15, even 20 years. They stayed through retail downturns and leadership changes. They stayed because they felt seen. As leaders, we’re measured in headlines and bottom lines, but the real legacy is how people feel after working with you. Did you make them braver? Did you make them better? Did you show them respect, even when no one was watching?

Being the only woman in the room taught me to notice who’s missing from the conversation, to make room for difference, to build bridges when others build walls. And that’s the challenge I leave you with — especially if you’re the one with power now. Don’t be impressive. Be impactful. Don’t just lead well. Lead in a way that makes others want to lead too. Respect is the quiet force behind loyalty, performance, and innovation. It’s not flashy. It doesn’t trend. But it works. And in the end, it’s what lasts.

“As leaders, we’re measured in headlines and bottom lines, but the real legacy is how people feel after working with you.”

What I Learned About Respectful Leadership

•  Treat everyone like they matter. Not just the C-suite — everyone. Learn names. Ask about families. Show up when it’s inconvenient. People notice who notices them.
• Protect quiet voices in loud rooms. I was interrupted constantly in my early years. I learned to pause meetings and say, “Let’s hear her out.” It sends a signal, and it shifts culture.
• Give real feedback without tearing people down. You can challenge someone and still affirm their worth. Some of my most productive moments as a leader started with, “I believe in you, and I need more from you.”
• Make space for invisible contributors. I built a habit of circling back to the person who didn’t speak up in meetings. Often, they had the best ideas — they just weren’t used to being asked.