After a recent report that among chiefs and chairs of FTSE 100 companies, there are 17 men called John and only 7 women, we were quickly given the opportunity to change our Linkedin profile to John.

 

Which got me thinking about what my life would look like if I was another John.

 

And I saw myself atop a massive yacht.

 

Whichever way I run the scenarios, John Evans (instead of Jane Evans) is one f**king successful dude.

 

He’s tall, charismatic, handsome, intelligent, creative, a born leader and has a massive dick.

 

(I grew up in a house that wasn’t ashamed of the human body, so I know the genetic argument is sound.)

 

John Evans is the ultimate alpha male, he would have been welcomed to the boys club with open arms and would have quickly risen to the top. 

 

And he’d hate Jane Evans.

 

It would be mutual.

 

John Evans would be one of those men on all those #MeToo lists the girls in the ad industry are too afraid to name and shame.

 

Because they believe, deep down, he’s a nice guy and it’s not really his fault, he’s a product of the culture.

 

I call bullshit.

 

He produced the culture, or at the very least, perpetuated it.

 

Even if John Evans had never groped a young girl at the Christmas party, he would have cheered on the guys who did and even given them nicknames like “Mr Sausage” (yes, you know who you are!).

 

He’d have a few pretty girls in his creative department to do the tampon ads while he gave all the juicy briefs to the boys who reminded him of a younger him.

 

And he’d run a department where you could say or do anything so long as it was disguised as a joke.

 

Which is why he’s on so many lists but unreported, the girls are still wondering if they just didn’t get it.

 

But Jane Evans saw where their punchlines landed – in the girl’s bathroom: 

 

The brilliant producer throwing up an expensive lunch because the boys thought her thighs were hilarious.

 

The very senior account director punching the walls because her boss had told her to get her ‘priorities straight’ when she asked to miss a 7pm meeting to go home to her son’s seventh birthday party.

 

Or the young woman trying really hard to believe that her nickname was actually a term of endearment.

 

You see, the things that hurt the most were when you expected us to not be women.

 

One highly creative and very senior copywriter was accused of being an ‘anarchist’ and fired because she refused to put blue liquid on a sanitary pad.

 

Jeez, even when we worked on the girl’s stuff we had to create their bloody version.

 

No wonder we left in droves.

 

You see, brilliant creative women know their value and the power of their voice. They don't have to stay in the middle of a scrum when there are far more fun games to play.

 

And even though John Evans would have his yacht and a superannuation fund that would make me weep, I reckon he stares out at the wide blue yonder racking his brain to work out if he actually ever did anything that could get him drawn into the current 'witchhunt'.

 

I'd much rather be Jane Evans knowing I picked up and dusted down women ready for the next battle. Who picked up and dusted down women ready for the ultimate battle.

 

#TimesUp John Evans.