A couple of days ago, I completed a year at my job. Unremarkable, perhaps, but for two facts taken in tandem – I am now 29 years old, and this is my first real job. Oh sure, I have been paid a stipend for teaching in grad school, I washed dishes in a cafeteria for minimum wage, taught kids at summer camp, even made a few bucks my freshman year fixing people’s computers. And I got myself through my last summer in the United States by playing poker (nothing on the level of some on this site, though). But this is my . . .

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As you might know, my name is Kris. And I’m a guy. It’s short for Kristoffer. (Actually, if you’re reading this, you most certainly know these things unless you are very unobservant, as 110% of people reading this are either a friend, relative, or both.)

But I just found something out — Kris is a girl’s name.

A big part of my job includes inviting people to speak at conferences. And nobody knows who the hell I am. Here are some recent e-mail replies I’ve gotten (rest assured, I do sign my e-mails with my actual name, “Kris”).

This one . . .

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