build himself up by cutting someone else down.
“Maybe next time use a little more flare,” he said. His voice was light, almost friendly, but the edge was unmistakable. He was performing. “Unless you’ve got some medical issue. Some women, you know, as they get older — the reaction times start to go. No shame in stepping back to the right seat.”
He looked at the first officer and the flight attendant, waiting for a laugh. Neither gave it to him. The coffee maker gurgled in the silence.
“I’m fine,” I said.
“Are you?” He folded his arms. “Because you’ve been with the company what, two years? I pulled your file. Before that, corporate? Some little charter outfit out of Phoenix? Not exactly a resume that screams ‘command.’ Frankly, I’m not sure how you got the upgrade. But I guess these days they’ve got to fill the left seat with somebody.”
