UPDATE*** Because it might not be immediately apparent, I’d like to point out that this post is a direct mockery of the link below. The source article, I feel, is counter-intuitively sexist by promoting a few severely dated common “misconceptions” about women; instead of being informative, it feels sensational and foolish. I know from experience that ad agencies are not pits of misogynistic testosterone, they are, in fact, often uniquely tolerant. My rage comes from a belief that sexism in the workplace is a hell of a lot more complex and subtle than snarkily telling a man he can’t tickle you.
We’re going to take a diversion.
Halcyon sent me a link to the sassy, hand-on-hip declaration of “The DON’Ts Of Advertising: The Women’s Edition” complete with photo of attractive women with a selection of hair-hues, hot on the heels of their equally informative “dealing with black folk” edition – rawr! I’m kind of holding out for “Tolerating Hebrews” personally, because I don’t know how to.
Here, I made some adjustments:
1. DON’T… Ask if I’m doing okay when I look tired or tell me that I’m doing a good job – fuck that shit, maggot! Everyone knows that women actually get off on pretending to be a dominatrix – no compliments, no terms of endearment, and no insinuation that I might be a human being with feelings! If I’m on my period, YOU RUB YOUR FACE IN IT. Do you fucking understand me, tube meat? Later, we’ll cuddle.
2. DON’T… assume that because I desperately try to be in control at work, regardless of my ability or rank, that I try to reign holy terror over my manfriend at home, too. I’m just clumsily trying to power my way into a better job title. I don’t actually know what I’m doing.
3.When I am rigidly and inexplicably sticking with a terrible artistic decision, DON’T… assume that it’s because I’m afraid of this crazy old prejudice that makes people think that women “waffle” – well, I don’t know. I probably am. Wait a minute! Shit. Wait, yes. I’m going to go ahead and say that this terrible Apple spot rip-off I’m trying to construct is perfect for our client, because I bragged about it over cosmos earlier and I’m afraid you’ll think I am changing my mind now. Women of the world, raise your right hand, WHUT!
3. DON’T… and yes this is my second number 3, are you seriously trying to impress your patriarchal number system on me? Anyway, DON’T… assume I’m a lesbian just because I’m sort of pear-shaped and tuck my polo t-shirts into my high-waisted jeans. I know you WISH that skinny bitch with the bleached pixie cut over in traffic was a lesbian, but she’s NOT. I’ve TRIED to hit that shit and she ain’t havin’ it. Sober, anyway. We both know we can put a few Long Island Iced Teas in her and she’ll be sucking face with anything with tits. Even you, Dave. HA!
3. DON’T… assume I’m not going to slip in another number 3, just to mess with you. DON’T… ask me why I don’t wear more skirts – wait, what? Do people actually do this still, like anyone under the age of 65? I’m almost 100% certain they don’t. And besides, if you actually had even been in an agency before you’d know that the ladies are wearing some seriously form-fitting shit on top of the banginist fuck-me knee-boots they can find. That observation that women dress for other women? That one is true. DO… assume I’m going to wear something super-borderline inappropriate so that you are wrestling boners and fantasizing about leaving your girlfriend all day long, mostly just because I’m a bitch. See #1.
4. DON’T… stare at my breasts. Somehow you’re going to pull this off even though you’ll stare at them on women in the grocery store, at the gas station, in line for movie tickets, on TV and on your wife. Just, try to act like you’re a homo, OK? I do. Blech.
5. DON’T… tickle me? Is there a big tickling problem in advertising agencies I don’t know about? Also, I guess since we have to list stuff you specifically can’t do, don’t put your penis in me either.
6. DON’T…you dare fucking notice that there is a gender discrepancy in this line of work, or you might as well notice that there aren’t any ‘black folk’, as they like to be called, or how there are a reasonable number of Asians. Because then your ass is ‘downsized’. We both know that if you try and put that birth control ad in front of a focus group, no matter how hilarious and pertinent it is, they are gonna HATE it. Why? Because they’re going to tell the focus group a man made it. And we both know that no matter how overused and out-of-touch my ad is, they’re going to LOVE it. Because a woman made it. So stuff it.
7. And you know what, DON’T…come to me and ask me to work on every goddamn fucking tampon account that comes in here. You know how vaginas work, you figure out the ad for yourself. Wait, what am I saying?! This is guaranteed work for me! Gimme that account! And gimme that diet drink one, too! You couldn’t possibly know what it is like to have a fickle, embarrassing sex organ!
8. DON’T… try and be sensitive and act like there is a chance I might be a creative director or a copywriter. Statistically speaking, I won’t be. Go ahead and assume I’m a producer or account manager, it saves time. Likewise, when I have to come down in talk to you in your weird little creativity cubicles I’ll try not to rub it in your face that my job is like, 5,000 times more secure than your job is. And EASIER. Muahahahahaa!
9. DON’T…tell me about how your wife is really feeling this pregnancy and you feel sorry for her or some crap like that. I don’t want to hear about your happy marriage, it makes me depressed. And try to laugh when I make totally awkward remarks about how completely and utterly WASTED I got out at the clubs last weekend. I’m dangerously cutting-edge. I mean, I think it’s nice that you invited me to your son’s 5th birthday party and everything and I’m sorry I drank too much beer and made a – okay, three – bukkake jokes in front of your parents, but jeez, loosen up.
10. DON’T…assume that I “honestly like sports”. I don’t. And besides, if you think about it for a while it starts to get kind of weird. I mean, you think it’s hot that I know the score of last night’s game and want to get a pitcher with the dudes after work, but do you really want me sitting on the couch all weekend watching games and eating cold pizza? No. You want me washing your laundry and making you an awesome lemon layer cake. And you don’t want to be watching games either. Why can’t we all just admit we want to two or three Percocet each and enough sets of Rock Band for the whole office to play at the same time?
Ladies! You’re gonna want to print this one out and tape it above the mimeograph machine! Along with that ad for YAZ birth control because like, it has totally reduced your bloat-days, am I right or am I right, sister?