I'm building a house, which means I'm doing the pointing - which means I'm saying "put it here" and "stick that there" (with my pretty little finger extended). There is a whole world out there that doesn't know women exist. "Can I talk to your husband?" ("No, I'll talk to someone who'll talk to me, thanks.") And the electricity board insists on writing to "Mrs Margaret A Harris ... Dear Sir". When challenged, the girl I spoke to said, "Well, we usually do connections for men."
But never mind. When my floor beams were promised for Friday (late, but that's quite normal in this trade) I pointed out to my builder (member of the human race) that if they weren't here on time I could drive down to the factory and sit and cry. He couldn't, but I could, because I'm a woman.
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