I don’t normally mix my business/activism/whatever interests with my writing proclivities; it’s unfair to my publisher, and Bob Leahy’s angelic patience is better tried with some smut-depravity first-person account of the flavor I hope and pray my mom, dad, husband, evil mother-in-law will never read. Writing about work is an unseemly practice in my book at least. Buy an ad already, people.
But as they say, no rule without exceptions. Ladies and gentlemen, please meet my not-boss, Car