6 things I've learned working at Mamamia

Period farts.

I’m going to let that term linger in much the same way it hung around my conscience for several days after having heard it mentioned in the comments section of a post we were running about, of all things, period undies. I’ll never un-see those two words. Oh my, why won’t it let go of my eyes!

So this is a completely frivolous and fun post but we here at MM decided I needed to write it the other day after combining my new found knowledge of the existence of period farts with my devastating revelation about what it is, exactly, a mooncup does.

Do. Not. Google. Mooncup. Ever.

As a ‘man of the gay’, I don’t have a lot of experience with these types of things. I’m about as clued in to the mechanics of the menstrual cycle as I am to the mechanics of my Toyota Corolla. That is to say, not at all. But here are some other things I have learned, written with the broadest brushstrokes ever.

1. Mia’s mind is never made up.

You think the list of stories we want to run on the site is locked in the day before by lunchtime? HA HA HA. Yes, and I own a herd of Siberian ground squirrels. Or something. Lana likes structure and Mia is that annoying improv kid from your drama class in high school. Her mind is like my face: never made-up. And when she does change it, it’s usually at 11pm at night which results in a flurry of emails and a yearning in the pit of my stomach for the abilities of some kind of Time Lord.

2. Women can sustain multiple conversations at once.

I work at a table with four women around me who have been known, on occasion, to maintain conversations over Twitter, phone and in person. Simultaneously. It’s like working at the stock exchange just before close. Not only can they do this but they can also remember what was being said, with a degree of smugness that is admittedly earned. In the rare moments when I am distracted by cleverly captioned dinosaur pictures on the Internet I can never remember the slice of conversation I missed. Indeed, sometimes I wake up several hours later on the side of the road wondering what happened.

3. They can also talk about anything. Anything.

That’s actually the whole point of Mamamia, the fact that we can talk about anything and everything without ever being too serious or too flippant. But even I was surprised after I first started, having put the finishing touches on my Libya cheat sheet to find we were also posting about the Great Wall of Vagina. On the same day. Apart from staring at a litany of vagina post-its on our planning wall, this is remarkably OK.

4. I am never right.

In my home growing up I just gave up arguing with my mum about certain things. This is why we now call it the ‘Specific Ocean’ and I have learned to say nothing. This is also true of my opinion in the Mamamia offices. Ordinarily, of course, I am right and wrong in about equal measure. But at Mamamia I am wrong about 100 per cent of the time and right  per cent. Although I am right handed, which is a small measure of comfort.

5. The MM crew have memories like elephants.

Seriously. “Oh Rick, do you remember 18 Wednesdays ago and you said you’d write this piece? No? It was about 10.37am in the morning and you were wearing a pink tie at a 35 degree lean. It clashed with everything you were wearing. Yeah, that one!” Don’t be fooled by the apparent lack of consciousness when you’re talking to them. That’s just because they are busy carving out neural pathways so they can remember every tiny detail about what you just said so it can be used against you in the future. They really should have read me my Miranda Rights when I started here. I have the right to remain silent, but anything I say can and will be used…

6. (Most) women have no personal boundaries.

They say sharing is caring. Which is all well and good if you have a sultana bun and your co-worker is hungry, but not so good if they’re discussing somebody’s sex life with all the forensic class of a romance-less anthropologist. This is the kind of information they share with each other and so, rightly or wrongly, they demand it of me. “Do you have a boyfriend Rick? Why do you not have a boyfriend Rick? When was the last time you had a boyfriend? Why is the sky blue? Why are you never allowed to go back to that zoo again?”

I’d prefer to just talk about Syria, to be frank.

This is by no means an exhaustive list. I’ve also learned about bra sizes, dresses and the nuance of what ‘yes’ really means. And of course that the women I work with (and meet everyday online) are dynamic, smart, clever and amazing.

But we’ll pretend I never said that.

Have you ever started work in a place completely outside of your experience? Tell us!