Hi, I’m Oliver. A few years ago, a new colleague named Adrian joined my team. On his first morning, he arrived late to our introductory meeting, gave short answers, and spent most of the time looking at his laptop. When people tried to include him in the conversation, he smiled politely but did not say much. By lunchtime, I had already formed an opinion. I thought he was distant, overconfident, and probably not very interested in working with us. That first impression stayed with me for several weeks. When Adrian remained quiet in meetings, I saw it as proof that he was unfriendly. When he questioned an idea, I interpreted his tone as critical. Even when he offered useful help, I assumed he was doing it because he wanted to demonstrate that he knew more than everyone else. The interesting part is that I did not feel as though I was making assumptions. I felt as though I was observing facts. But I was selecting facts that matched the opinion I had already formed. Later, I learned that Adrian’s first morning had been unusually difficult. His train had been cancelled, his laptop was not connecting to the company system, and English was not his first language. He was trying to follow a fast conversation while solving technical problems and remembering the names of twelve new colleagues. Once I knew this, his behaviour looked completely different. His silence no longer seemed arrogant. It seemed cautious. His short answers did not necessarily show disinterest. They may simply have reflected the effort of speaking accurately in an unfamiliar group. But even after learning the context, my original impression did not disappear immediately. I still noticed moments that supported it. If Adrian interrupted someone, I thought, “There it is again.” If another colleague interrupted, I barely remembered it. This made me realise why first impressions are so powerful. They do not only influence what we think about someone. They influence what we notice next. Once we have created a story, new information is often organised around that story. There is also an emotional reason. Changing your opinion requires you to admit that your earlier judgement may have been unfair. That can feel uncomfortable, especially if you have already shared the opinion with other people. In my case, I had casually described Adrian as “a bit difficult” to two colleagues. After that, changing my mind felt like correcting not only a private thought but also a public position. I had to admit that I had judged him too quickly. The change finally happened through repeated experience. Adrian helped me prepare for a complicated client call and stayed late when a technical problem appeared. He listened carefully when I explained my concerns and gave feedback without making the conversation personal. Over time, these experiences became too consistent to ignore. We eventually became good colleagues. Adrian was not perfect, and my first impression was not completely invented. He could be direct, and he sometimes became impatient. But I had turned a few real characteristics into a complete personality. Now, when I meet someone new, I try to separate observation from interpretation. “She did not ask any questions” is an observation. “She is not interested” is an interpretation. The interpretation may be correct, but it is not the only possible explanation. I also try to treat first impressions as temporary working ideas rather than final conclusions. They can be useful. We often need to make quick decisions about whether a situation feels comfortable or safe. The problem begins when a quick impression becomes permanent and stops responding to new evidence. Changing a first impression does not mean ignoring warning signs or forcing yourself to like everyone. It means leaving enough space for context, patterns, and contradiction. One moment can tell you something about a person, but it rarely tells you everything.