I’ve been cruising on Jon’s Facebook page – I ditched mine years ago, it became like TV. A giant time suck. Plus I’d spend hours looking up people I don’t like just to see if I was doing better than them, which is a giant mistake for so many reasons. So now I scroll through Jon’s. We have enough friends in common to keep it interesting, plus I can’t go down the rabbit hole of commenting and getting into conversations because that would be a total violation of marital trust. Looking through his personal page is one thing, commenting as him, well that’s a whole other kettle of very stinky fish.
But I digress.
I noticed today all these people celebrating International Women’s Day like it’s a great thing. Um, if you boil it down, it just means that for the other 364 days (or this year, the other 365 days) it’s International Men’s Day. Everyday. Which we all kind of know anyway, but still I feel like this day just rubs it in. I think it should be called, International Men Feel Good About Themselves Day Because We Can Celebrate Women One Day A Year. But that may be too long.
Does this look right to you?
Now I don’t hate men, I’m married to one, have two as brothers-in-laws, a father and a brother and some great friends with the Y chromosome, I just loathe being pointed out that as a woman I need to be celebrated. Bite me. I don’t want celebration I want equal pay! Actually, I’d take any pay at this point (see below) so that’s kind of moot right now.
Now maybe it all comes down to the fact that I am still unemployed after four and a half months and I may be getting a little bitter and frustrated and I’m using International Women’s Day as a cover to vent my frustrations. But maybe not. Let’s take this exchange I had when interviewing with a headhunter to be a corporate temp.
The Scene: Dreary Corporate Beige Office
Me: Showered, in a suit, hair pulled back. Sitting up right. Smiling like I’ve been surgically altered.
In walks this “woman.” She is maybe twenty four. Wearing a jersey stretch baby doll dress with boobs perilously close to escaping. Wide, vacant eyes. Think Bambi in human form.
She: So like it says here you worked at a Gotham Chamber Opera?
She. So like why did you leave?
Me: It folded due to financial issues.
She. Oh. Like, what was it? What did you do there?
Me: Well, we produced opera.
She: Blank stare. I went on to explain the process of putting on an opera from start to finish.
She: Oh. that’s like awesome. But did you have an administrative staff that you supervised?
Me: I was the administrative staff.
She: Oh, is opera like your passion?
And then I stopped trying. Because really? This “woman” is going to help me get work? I don’t think so. And back to today, as it is International Women’s Day, we are technically we are celebrating HER. Really?
No thanks. I’ll stick to Talk Like A Pirate Day (September 19).