Gender Bender

The radio screams at me with the raucous laughter of women, extrapolating about their weekend exploits.

How one of them ended up in a bar at 3am, devoid of phone, ID or her wits and the hilarious journey she took to get home, when finally a cabby, recognising her from the radio billboards that plaster the city, took pity on her and drove her home.

They want to find the cabby so they can pay her for the fare. They appeal to the public and other cabbies to also call in and recount their own passenger horror stories.

Ha! that was a good one. I laugh along.

It’s Monday. I am up and getting ready for the first day of another week at the office.

Motoring along, I stop for the tram and notice an ad for men’s underwear adorning the side of the carriage. Thrust in my face, right at driver’s eyesight height is a huge picture of a man’s groin. The bits I can see of the man are tanned, toned and smooth, no lump, bump or hair, thankfully, out of place.

People clamber on and off the tram and pay no attention to the ad, well, perhaps they do subliminally, who knows.

It’s now Wednesday. I pick up the newspaper in the communal kitchen while I sip coffee. It’s Budget time, the PM and the Treasurer are selling their message about how this Budget will secure Australia’s future.

There are caricatures of the Prime Minister and her sidekick on the front page of the paper, but the gravity of the job these two women have is not lost on me, indeed the pages are filled with how the Budget will affect us all in different ways.

Thrust in my face, right at driver’s eyesight height is a huge picture of a man’s groin

All the Ministers have their say across the paper’s Budget coverage. The Education Minister tells how the boost in cash will help her portfolio and schoolchildren across the nation will benefit from a new literacy program. The Minister for Defence explains how she thinks the extra millions in defence spending is needed to sure up Australia’s fight against terrorism. The Communications Minister pushes her plan for faster internet connection for regional Australia. And lastly, the Opposition Leader says how she, of course, would do things differently.

All day political commentators, ex-politicians and political journalists crowd our TV screens and radio airwaves. These women are the experts in their field, it’s their time to shine.

I flick through the Budget news to the rest of the paper. Another man stabbed to death by his wife, a nun is up on child sex abuse charges, a male model will host a new reality TV show. Looks like Bridget the Brave is out for the Bulldogs in Saturday’s clash at the ‘G.

Back to work. We have an important meeting this afternoon. Our managers are calling the team together to brainstorm ideas on how to entice new clients and I need to prepare. I work in advertising, but the digital revolution has not been kind to us.

The conference room has been set up with refreshments. We gather around the round table. My manager Maxine, has set up butcher’s paper and permanent markers at the ready for when our ideas spring forth.

Maxine has an assistant manager, Briony. Aside from the managers we are a team of six, three women and three men. I want Maxine’s job. If I prove my worth, directing a creative department is well within my reach.

Toby, sitting next to me has a different view. He has told me before that he doesn’t think Maxine rates him. He says whenever he offers up ideas, she seems to dismiss him. He’s worried Maxine will cut him loose when his wife has the baby and he will need to work more flexible hours. Flexi-hours and advertising don’t mix when a client needs a job done.

The meeting is briefly interrupted by Ben, our receptionist, who brings in a plate of muffins to go with the other refreshments. We all smile and thank him and delve in to the sugary snack, although I notice Toby doesn’t take any, he says he puts on weight if he even thinks about food.

The meeting goes well, but none of us come up with any revolutionary idea that’s going to save us from Facebook taking over global advertising budgets. I need to get a sales job at Facebook, I think.

Now, it’s Friday. Thank God. I stop for a coffee at my favourite cafe on my way to the office.

While I wait for my order I glance at the magazines on the counter. Wow! Another Hollywood heartthrob has dropped 10kg in two weeks. A before and after shot of his scantily clad body features on the magazine’s cover. Inside there is a fashion spread on our favourite Prince’s best looks for the year.

I sigh, how dreary.

That night, Toby, myself and a couple of the other team members head out for a Friday night drink.

The bar is heaving. Large groups of women stand around in small groups, holding beers and talking loudly. I wonder if all these women have families. Who is home looking after the kids?

Friday night footy is about to start on the TV perched on the wall in the corner of the room. The panel of commentators is all women – some past AFL players – and in the pre-match banter they predict how they think the Cats will go against the Magpies. Will the Cats’ fast female midfielders be too quick for the Magpies’ Amazonian women in defence?

Footy is not really my thing so I don’t pay too much attention but plenty of women have prime position in front of the screen to watch the blockbuster.

In the bar, there are a few pockets of men, mostly in twos, in between. I can’t help but notice some women oggle Toby as he enters the bar. One of my female colleagues, she’s already had a few at a client lunch, tells Toby he’s looking hot tonight but he brushes her off.

A stranger approaches Toby while he’s waiting at the bar and asks if she can buy him a drink. Toby politely refuses, conspicuously flashing his wedding ring.

I overhear the interlude between Toby and the stranger but he doesn’t mention it when he comes back to the group. Toby’s a good-looking man, I guess he’s used to that sort of thing. But when Toby finishes his drink, he doesn’t stay for another.

At the end of the night I have had too much to drink to drive home and I hail a cab. I think of the amusing radio story at the start of the week and am conscious to ensure I have all my belongings.

At home, I stumble into bed for the end of another normal week at the office.

What we see, read, hear and experience as women shapes how society perceives us and how we perceive ourselves. It’s a man’s world. Think about it, when it comes to equality, we have a very long way to go.