Boardroom Musings 2: Deer in the Headlights
Ordinarily, when someone starts staring at my breasts, I assume that I've spilled something. After all, the girls are getting on in years. There are plenty of newer models out on the market for the lads to admire. So when I found an older gentlemen reviewing the troops during a board meeting recently, I was both flattered and stymied. What to do?
Ignoring the matter evaporated as an option when the man actually began talking to them. Now, this is where I draw the line. My Macguffies are not microphones. Nor are they sentient beings. But I, the only woman in the room, was the only one who seemed to understand this. Dear lord, the rest of the board fell silent as they waited for my chest to answer his question.
I considered my options. I could: (a) as another lawyer once did, smack my chest and yell "Wake up! He's talking to you!", or (b) direct my reply to the crotch of his pants.
In the end, I chose a different path. I offered to prepare a memo with formal advice on the issue and to distribute it after the meeting. I may even add a premium to my bill. After all, the three of us will be working on it together.