A “chick sexer”, by the way, used to be a respectable, lucrative, and highly sought after professional, though the workload invariably left this beleaguered inspector of downy parts virtually drained of his (usually his not her) vital juices and energies. Indeed one often had to work a 48 hour shift in order satisfy the demand of chicks to be sexed, sometimes sexing tens of thousands without stop, without stint, without flagging, and with no greater than a five percent error rate. Moreover, the ability to sex chicks cannot properly be learned or taught, it is a gift one is born with much like well-witching and driving Indy 500 race cars. It makes a pale shadow out of candling eggs, believe you me.
Anyway, “gendering chicks” doesn’t sound ... well ... sexy if you will, and I doubt a “chick-genderer” would make as much money. On the other hand, I understand the burn-out rate among hard core sex trade workers is quite high. So there you go, it’s earn a lot of money in a short time and go to an early and enforced retirement or even grave, or else plod along at an even pace and live a long life.
That’s probably the main difference between sex and gender.
I was thinking of the noun, not the adjective, but OTOH, men aren’t often described as blonds.
I was wasting some time at a law firm going through stacks of documents from a MAJOR corporation that was being sued by the Department of Justice for any number of nonsensical reasons I was not privy to. The interesting thing about these files was that not only did they have pie charts, they had actual pie recipes as well as advice on the best hotels to stay at in Caracas. There wasn’t a heck of a lot about dominating the world market in their particular field while crushing the competion under its iron boot-heel, so I suggested to the paralegal in charge that the backroom files would probably yield a lot more evidence. Don’t know if this had anything to do with my being fired soon thereafter. But what I did find odd was an issue concerning the corporation’s upcoming choice of public spokesman for TV commercials. It went something like this: “We need a man who imparts caring, centeredness, and self-confidence. He has to be authoritative yet humble. We want him to be the brother or uncle you turn to in an hour of need, but not too intimate. Whatever he is he absolutely should not be blond.” That statement has kind of haunted me for years.