Even my client notices I'm walking funny and offers up his own tea bag (a new one...!), when the coffee machine informs us the boiler is broken. My posture is the envy of royalty world over as I sit through what is meant to be an abridged presentation. Retail figures are surprisingly sturdy, and über client pithily blames it on his wife.
Emily Gray, the lovely, helps me with my jacket once we're done with the meeting, holds open the heavy doors leading to the ladies, and waits dutifully bending over to help me swap shoes as I do a fair imitation of a geriatric whose misplaced her walker. We stroll out to the lift bank, minus the men, only to be accosted by a "Great shoes!" from the client. Brilliant. Em and I lug around bags for the sole purpose of perpetuating our sophistication in high heels, leaving our fetching bright purple (hers) and fluorescent green (mine) sneakers for weary tube travellers.
Guy, on the other hand, is not amused at waiting mid tube descent and demands to know just what the hell took us so long and where Em had gone off to before continuing his earlier admonishment, "I have told you repeatedly to leave those 6'6" men alone. You only have yourself to blame. Also pick someone more your own age".
Did he mean younger or older???
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