#tropicallibrarian or: Surprise! It's Worse For Women

A break from being proper and sensible to point out that…

This is troubling, right?

Hilarious, as Twitter has shown us, but still troubling. As if it’s not bad enough that librarians are undervalued and saddled with a history of sexism, the male gaze is apparently so attracted to the stereotypical slutty librarian (chaste at the desk but a demon in the stacks) that this kind of tosh has made it to the Reed recruitment site. And we thought the humiliating ads offering a pittance for chartered employees were the nadir of our job searching.

Because let’s be clear here, this is not an advert for a man (gutted), nor is it an advert for a librarian. Maybe I just missed that week, but Management classes never covered “barefoot reports” and Collection Development never prepared me for managing my own personal collection of slave tags toe rings and anklets. And don’t get me started on the need for someone who is “free-spirited” and unbound by the chains of civilisation – that’s code for “must be young and unlikely to freak out when they see my browsing history.”

It’s amusing, but it’s left me in a sort of flip-flop state (excuse the pun) between chortling and dry heaving. I can’t tell if these tears are from the hilarity of it all or from the intense burning shame (it’s positively tropical) of being a man in a world that’s apparently still comfortable to not only indulge in but advertise in a professional environment the commodification of women. “You’re prepared for the transition to RDA and you catalogue like a speed demon from nerd-hell? That’s cool, babes – you wearing a bra?”

And I mean, c’mon, bro – know your audience here. There was that one time I walked into work in my incredibly sensual cycling pants, but for the most part? Multiple layers and intimate evenings with Question Time and The Walking Dead.

 

My suspicions at the moment are as follows:

• Ashton Kutcher comes out from behind my sofa and tells me I’ve been Punk’d – I tell him that his 15 minutes are over and that this whole schtick is more exhausted than Demi.
• The website and advert are revealed to be viral marketing for the sequel to Prometheus, in which a team of foot fetishist researchers discover xenomorphs the concept of dignity on an alien planet with a tropical climate.
• The employer has a deadly shoe intolerance and this is all just some misunderstanding.
• There will be an upsetting Channel 4 documentary about this in a year’s time and some distasteful video nasty films will follow.
• It’s real? LOL?

Seriously though, is this still where we are? I meet numerous people at parties (shut up, I do go to parties) who seem intent on telling me what my job actually consists of, which is apparently stamping a lot of books and – this is a good one – “coming up with confusing ways of hiding books so that we still need librarians.” That’s right, folks, we’re just securing our futures by secretly sabotaging your libraries. These kinds of conversations and this kind of job posting are red flags signifying how woefully and wilfully misunderstood information professionals (and working women) still are and why it’s important that so many people are blogging about the actual things they actually do that aren’t inspired by pulp erotica or the mind of a frothy-mouthed Mail reader.

Perhaps there’s something positive to take from this mess, though. Perhaps it’s worth remembering that most job adverts don’t ask you to send them a photo of yourself in a sarong and sporting some pouty duck-lips. Perhaps it’s worth remembering that most job adverts understand your skills, ambitions and experiences and are looking to appeal to them. And perhaps it’s worth remembering that most job adverts don’t read like that horrid “mommy porn” that passes for a bestseller. It’s nice to have some perspective and realise that we don’t quite have to lower ourselves to the level of foot escorts just yet.

Nevertheless, I hereby submit my application. I may not have experience of having a sugar daddy or completely demeaning myself and my profession, but I have seen Showgirls, so I think I’ve got this. I’m ready and waiting, doctor. Tee hee, blush, coy smile.

I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to win.