Part of my workday is consulting with clients over webcam – not a very good webcam. My name and visage pops up on the client’s screen when they connect to me. There I am – chest and head – all Max Headroom like. It’s really kinda cool.
Except for one thing. One small thing. One really anyone small thing. For the past five years, despite low cut tops, big hoop earrings and constant insistence, I have been “mistaken” for a man.
I know. I know. Pick your jaw up.
