Jane Allport

        Many of you may be wondering who Jane Allport is. Is it the sister I have never told you about because she became an eco-terrorist and we disowned her? A crazy distant relative who lives in Salt Lake City but occasionally rides into town when she’s on a cocaine high looking for a couch to sleep on? Maybe it’s the poor wife who is married to me for tax purposes, who spends most of her day at home watching The View and vacuuming while she fantasizes about a life not married to a gay man? If you guessed any of these, you are wrong. In fact, if you guessed a woman, you are wrong as well.
Jane Allport is me….when I am talking on the phone. It all began when I was a young boy, and I would answer the phone and people would call me Linda, believing me to be my mom. My voice is not terribly effeminate, and for the most part sounds like a regular guy’s voice (give or take a few quirks), yet on the phone I am mistaken for a woman 7 times out of 10. It has become a running gag at work, as numerous clients have mistakenly called the office asking for ‘Jane Allport’.
Every time somebody calls me ma’am on the phone, I suddenly try to lower my voice and pray to Barry White that I can discreetly show them their error without actually having to say “I’m not a woman, you ass!” And my voice goes so deep, you almost expect me to say “Turn down the lights, put some light music on, and feel the love of a summer evening”, just sultry, sensual baritone.
Back when I was telemarketing, people would call saying Jane had called them. I would say my name is Jake and that Jane was my sales partner. Let me tell you something, Fictious Jane is one hell of a saleswoman. Somewhere out there somebody believes that I am married to a pretend woman (who in all actuality is just me), and that we are telemarketing partners together. Jake and Jane Allport: Power Couple.
If need be, should I ever be in a tight spot (for instance, should I be framed for armed robbery or anger a powerful mob boss by making fun of his overweight wife), I should like to keep Jane Allport in my back pocket. I’m not saying I would enjoy dressing in drag, but Jane could really bail my ass out in a jiffy if I needed her to.