I’ve written about this elsewhere. But I hope it bears repeating.

I hadn’t been for an interview for a while, so the clothes I had to wear were a few years old. I had put on a bit of weight in the meantime, so the blouse I wore was a bit stretched across the breast area. Still totally wearable though.

I use my hands a lot when talking. During the interview I must have brushed across the blouse with my hands, because all of a sudden I noticed the man interviewing me had a look of horror on his face. He was fixated on my breasts.

I’m well past the age when men stare at my breasts. So, I looked down to see what the problem was. The button in the middle of my breasts had come undone. My rather ample bosom was joining in the interview.

I had no idea what to do. I continued talking and did up the button. I didn’t apologise, or comment on it at all. Not normally one to be at a loss for words, this was one occasion when I just couldn’t come up with something to say.

I got the job.