Where the bright women are

Photographer: Salvatore Vuono

You’d think, wouldn’t you, that companies, especially those at the forefront of technology and communication, would have a whole host of insightful questions that they’d be just gagging to ask us about the way we use their products and services today, in order to shape their offerings in the future. Let’s face it, nothing has changed the way in which we live and work so drastically – and so rapidly – as mobile technology. It’s certainly changed our lives; we can’t actually imagine how we used to juggle the work/life/family balls without smartphones, skype et al.

And yet, quaintly, all our mobile phone provider wanted to know about us last time we spoke was whether we’re ‘a single lady’ or not. We kid you not. This is how it came about…

One of us is a Ms. As in ‘It’s none of your business whether I’m married, single, divorced or otherwise engaged.’ As in ‘It has absolutely no bearing on this conversation how many babies I’ve popped out, and whether anyone likes me enough to put a ring on it.’

So why on earth are they still asking? Surely there are better things that they could be talking to be about, heck, even selling us. In the past month alone, we’ve enquired about iPad contracts, business accounts and a phone upgrade. In fact, it was the phone upgrade question that started the whole married/single line of questioning.

It should have been a simple transaction to upgrade to an iPhone 4. And it started off as a simple phone call that ended with a closing request to double-check my contact details, and the news that ‘a colleague will call you back re delivery time.’

The colleague called back five minutes later to check name and address for delivery and said ‘So that’s Ms, you’re a single lady, and…’

‘Sorry. what did you just say?’

‘That you’re a single lady, it says here that you’re a single lady.’

‘It doesn’t say that as I’ve never given that information.’

‘But it says here that you’re a Ms. Why, aren’t you a single lady?’

‘It’s NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS! THAT”S WHAT MS MEANS.’ (And yes we had somewhat lost our cool at this point.)

So seriously, does it matter whether we’re single, married, divorced or in a polygamous relationship if we’re after a mobile phone, some contents insurance or an ISA? Why are they asking us and what possible use do they have for this data?

Beyonce’s call to arms may be ‘If you like it then you should have put a ring on it.’

Ours? We’re saying that the next time anyone rings us and asks whether we’re a ‘single lady’, we’ll refuse to answer. But we will, of course, be probing very carefully into their own personal history, and hope that the phone call is indeed ‘recorded for training purposes’.

Posted by Kath

Ms
a title of respect prefixed to a woman’s name or position: unlike Miss or Mrs., it does not depend upon or indicate her marital status.

And so after the humiliation of the football on Sunday, we’d just about got our mojo back. In fact, we’d decided that it might be quite the thing to watch a spot of tennis – you know, a tournament where we could concentrate on the beauty of the game, sit back and listen to some intelligent match analysis, and so on.

Unfortunately, we seemed to have tuned in to an archived 70s edition of Miss World, where some duffer seemed to be focussed less on the game and more concerned with some young competitor’s figure.

We shall not lower ourselves to the level of said duffer by commenting on the female tennis star’s female form. However, we couldn’t help but take a look at the physique of the man who felt so confident to pass judgement on others. And, we have to say (as if this is any surprise) that Mr Mercer’s own midriff would hardly hold up to a whole load of scrutiny. Doesn’t feel so good, does it David, strangers commenting on your weight…?

We firmly believe that the way you look is up to you. We would never normally lower ourselves to judge anyone’s appearance. But when women are literally starving themselves to death and old duffers like this still feel that they have the right to comment on the way that women look – women who have not put themselves forward to be judged on their appearance, but who have trained for years to reach the pinnacle of their game – well then we’re prepared to put the boot in.

Mr Mercer, we are glad you apologised for your comment. We are glad that said star is apparently not bothered by your comment. Unfortunately, a lot of other women, ourselves included, are extremely bothered.

If this had been a mildly racist remark, hoards would have called for your resignation. But complaints about mild sexism? Why, it’s just not tennis, old chap.

When we’re being kind to ourselves, we know that the best way to get through the work-and-kids-and-nights out-and-family thing is not to try and be superwomen (see previous posts to this effect). But there’s a huge proviso on this. And that’s that it would be nigh on impossible to manage anything without our support network of wise and empathetic women that prop up the worst bits of our lives, and cheer us on for the highlights.

- The sort of girlfriend that calls you to ask about a work contract you’re stressing about, even though they’re in the middle of a painful break up and struggling with a young toddler.

- The sort that buys you your favourite limited edition Jo Malone perfume, because she knows you’re on a shopping ban and won’t have bought it for yourself.

- The sort that completely understands when you have to move lunch again, and never guilt trips you for things that have to be rearranged when life gets in the way.

- And the one that drops you home after a night at the theatre even though it’s five miles out of her way.

All of these have happened to us in the last week. We feel truly blessed. And work hard to return the favour whenever possible when our friends need it most.

There’s another huge proviso on this. And it’s that, sometimes, we’re not that kind to ourselves. We treat ourselves worse than we would anyone else in our lives. We miss things that are important to us, because, somehow, their importance becomes not important.

And yet a sudden death of someone close to another friend, aged 38, has made us become even more resolved to treat each day like a fresh adventure, not a series of chores or punishments. Which is why we swerved the cut-price supermarket this evening, and took the family shopping at the posh health store, instead. Not to feel worthy, but to feel cherished. And not compromised over small, day-to-day choices, for once.

It made us think that any time we’re feeling less than easy in ourselves – and suffering the inevitable guilt at not being all things to all people at all times, we should simply think how a good and trusted friend would react.

It was the voice of a great friend in our head that made us take the food store path less travelled this evening. Thank you, friend. A week without the usual big store brands feels wonderful.

How will you help yourselves – and your friends – to nurture themselves a little better this week?
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