At one of the comedian Dara O'Briain's live shows he
happened to be miming out "random buzzwords" the audience shouted
out. One last suggestion comes from a lady with a jolly melodic voice – she shouts
"sexy!". In a blink the skilled comedian stopps, and replies in a very
matter-of-fact, respectable tone, saying: "please, with every
move".
The question for 5,000 Respect Points from a guy whom you’ve
seen once before but whose colleagues you’re having a drink with, is:
How come you’re hanging out with the employees from our
company yet I don’t know you? Is it:
a) You’re friends with someone
in the group?
b) You’re “friends” with
someone in the group, although I’m not sure you’re hot enough?
c) You’re a random lunatic who
our group is tolerating and indulging out of kindness?
d) You’re new and I haven’t
had the chance to meet you yet, (although I’m still not sure you’re hot
enough)?
[Answer: a combination of c), a), and I’ve had a job
interview here but they didn’t take me in. No Respect Points won, but who said
it was a fair game?]
“Why didn’t you get hired?”
A stream of long-reflected, sappy, self-deprecating
accusations scroll through the mind while gaping around at the people who were
both the inviters to that job interview, and the rejecters.
Some Clarity Points are hanging in the balance now! For
10,000 of those, is it:
a) I was shit.
b) It was my first “real” job
interview.
c) I was immensely overhyped
by one of them, who really overrated me for unknown reasons.
d) I’m pretty sure I just
wasn’t hot enough.
[Answer: wonder if any of those decision makers are
listening in, and mumble something about not having been ready – then try to
diffuse the misery of how that sounded by saying you’re getting the benefits of
the job now without having to do the hard bit anyway, haha!]
“The ladies in the office are– they tend to hire a certain
type.”
“Well I’m not the type.”
“To an extent.”
Yeah my chest could be a double-D if I’d stuffed something
extra in there that day, I’ve left the fake eyelashes at home, I’m in some
fairly comfortable clothes, and I deliberately didn’t glaze on the make-up like
I’m a layered-coloured candle this time.
Also none of you are drunk enough at the moment. That’s the
extent.
 |
| I swear I'm not sponsored by Mad Men, but this is the idealistic image of an office for guys in everywhere ever, for real. I'd be the Peggy, obviously. |
Do you - you, reading this - ever consider where you’d have ended up if you were
simply born a different gender? I mean of course you have, but what do you think of most of the time? How easy or hard it would be in general? The variety of wonderful other ways you could masturbate?
To appease a frequent sense of unfairness I like to imagine
I’d be the dude really into his fashion, and makeup, maybe wigs and heels, and
that I’d be wishing to have been born a lady for some reason anyway.
That’s the only perk of being a chick – the trinkets.
The tolerance from society for you to try and look as good
as you can, because obviously that’s what men want from you. And men are the
bosses, right?
So for our last question, for 100,000 points of Realization,
what is it actually like in the professional world for a young woman? It is:
a) Being assessed and valued
first and foremost by – nope, not that – your work experience. The
X-out-of-five stars, the IMDB review of you, the YouTube views and rating ratio
of your likeability. How popular you have been. How professionally slutty you
are.
b) Being chosen by your
fucking looks, yes. Boys’ toy. Long shapely legs = swift learner, large
juicy breasts = astounding social skills, cute pretty face = captivating
personality, - continue the list yourself.
c) Getting commonly
infantilized to a degree where even expressing a thought non-conformist to the
consensus of the decision makers feels like a daring, reckless challenge. Which
gets widely ignored because you’re a cute little whatever squeaking at them,
thinking yours is a valid opinion, aw.
d) Everyone knows you just
want in the game with the boys to feel like you belong here, but what you
really want in life is to cook loads of food and spew out offspring. It’s in
your nature, who are you kidding. Come on, sod off to have babies.
It's cool that someone like Dara O'Briain can build a
fantastic career while taking the notion of being sexy as a complete joke.
Obviously he doesn't have to be, not in a conventional way anyway.
He doesn't have to be.
[Picture: http://cbsnews2.cbsistatic.com/hub/i/r/2014/04/11/cd87958d-ddc4-4020-beb2-720f6f583376/thumbnail/620x350/330ffaeec4f47db19c5c0b246b2cc499/ff178663-a8a8-298b-fbcd-867d4aa84525-mad-men-stairs-jon-jessica-elisabeth-january-kiernan-christina-1153-1182-v1.jpg]
And APOLOGIES for turning this stream of blabber into such rotten underinformed feminist bullshit lately. I promise to read some and be nicer so that something better comes out linguistically next time. GIFs and all, maybe even an attempt at wittiness at some point. (Which we women are so bad at! Hey, pa-dum-tss.)
