‘No Aidan today?’ he asked.

‘I’m sorry?’ replied the woman, looking up.

‘I said, no Aidan today? The male receptionist. Is there a specific word for a male receptionist?’

‘Yes,’ said the woman.

‘Are you going to tell me what it is?’

‘It’s receptionist,’ she replied.

‘I see. Got it.’ He remained silent for a few moments, aware that he had been chastised, then slapped his left hand with his right, hoping to make her smile. Not even an acknowledgement. There was a time when the ladies loved this type of playful behaviour, but not any more. Only last week, he’d held a door open for a young female intern and she’d practically taken his head off for it, telling him that she was perfectly capable of gaining ingress into and egress from the office without the assistance of a man.

‘It’s strange, isn’t it,’ he mused aloud, ‘how the words for some occupations define the gender of the employee, while others don’t? Waiter and waitress, for example. Actor and actress. Tailor and dressmaker. Each one tells us whether it’s a man or a woman performing the job. But then there are others, like engineer or doctor or teacher, which tell us nothing at all. I wonder why that is.’

‘A woman can be a tailor and a man a dressmaker,’ replied the receptionist. ‘In those cases, it refers to the clothes that are being made, not who’s making them.’

‘Yes, that’s true, I suppose.’ He paused and thought about it. ‘Steward and stewardess, there’s another. On a plane, you know? Although a pilot can be either sex. I’ve actually flown on planes where the pilot was a woman.’

‘And you remained on board?’ asked the receptionist in a dry tone.

‘Nothing I could do,’ replied George with a shrug. ‘By the time they start announcing themselves over the tannoy you’re already taxiing towards the runway. Now, I have to say that I’ve never approved of the word poetess. I think it’s pretentious and, let’s face it, poets don’t need any encouragement on that front. And then there’s fireman. We don’t say firewoman, do we? Although there probably aren’t any. That’s more of a job for men, I think.’

‘Actually, these days, we say firefighter,’ replied the young woman. ‘It’s a gender-neutral term. And yes, there are plenty of women employed in that field. My cousin, in fact, is a firefighter.’

‘And is she a woman?’

‘Well, no,’ she admitted. ‘But there are women there. In the fire station.’

‘Cleaners, perhaps.’

‘Not cleaners, no,’ she snapped.

‘Office personnel, then. Organizing the rotas and what have you. I wouldn’t be keen on my daughter being a firefighter, I have to say.’

‘And what does your daughter do?’