A girl could be forgiven for thinking that the only thing in life she needs to achieve happiness is the love of a good man. Snag yourself a bloke and you’re sorted. Jobs are just to keep you in Louboutin.
I know that this is not a new point, but that makes it no less valid. Read any glossy magazine, watch any shiny American drama trying to win the hearts and minds of young women (with a schmaltzy soundtrack and a lot of tearful doe-eyed female characters – see Grey’s Anatomy) and the clear-as-a-bell message is that happiness is inextricably linked to finding a fella.
Sex and the City is a perfect example of this. Brilliant, glossy, high octane fun and pitched as a programme about female empowerment, with feisty fashionistas lapping up all New York has to offer. All the characters have jobs, too. Hurrah!
Hello ladies, nice pointy shoes
But take a closer look and these jobs are somewhat pushed to the sidelines. Charlotte quits her art gallery job to have kids before she is even pregnant and Samantha gets places professionally by sleeping with her boss, her clients, the sandwich man (or his low carb equivalent) etc. etc.
Then there is Carrie, whose writing career forms the basis of the series, although she seems to write only one column, spends all her money on Manolos and has to be bailed out financially by her boyfriend (not that I am suggesting SATC would have been better if Carrie spent more time putting her money into low interest bonds...but still).
Finally there’s Miranda, the high powered lawyer, possibly the most careerist of them all. But she doesn’t half get punished for it. She gets the ultimate SATC punishment.....the crappy clothes - ranging from unflattering ensembles of shit green or mud brown (which any ginger knows makes you either look like a leprechaun or an autumnal tree) to garish dresses which don’t fit her properly. Then – as if the poor woman needed any more afflictions – they give her a scarily ginger baby.
Ahhghgh, her hair, his hair, that dress...
Maybe there should be more attention placed on happiness through our jobs – especially as you are likely to spend more hours at work than at home and more hours with your boss than your bloke. Sure, they say no one ever dies wishing they’d spent more time in the office but equally, how you feel about your job is vital for your overall happiness.
We could have reality TV programmes dedicated to finding the perfect job. I know we already have the Apprentice but it doesn’t really count because Alan Sugar looks like a small, furry woodland creature and working for him seems about as exciting as watching Time Team dubbed into Latvian. How about Streetmate – but for jobs not dates – Davina McCall could drag a contestant round to jobs in various offices and see which ones he fancies enough to go for an interview with. Streetjob (or some other more approporiate and less "lady of easy virtue" sounding title).
Maybe there should be more pages in the women’s glossies dedicated to career clinics and advice on climbing the career ladder (in more proactive ways than wearing Chloe outfits and bringing your boss skinny soy lattes three times a day). These magazines could include quizzes such as, “how do I know my job’s the one?” – with questions like “does my job fulfil me?”, “do I pretend I have a headache to avoid going in?” and “do I find myself looking at other jobs behind my job’s back?”
Just a thought.
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