I’m an influencer marketing manager.
So what? Let me explain. I work with people born from Youtube, Instagram and many other socials. I arrange with them numerous commercial deals, all for promotion purposes. It really sounds like a heartless and cruel job – because sure marketing people are just tiny evil creatures. Actually, it’s a job that combines emotional communication, great PR skills, honesty and coherence towards the consumers.
These influencers, a true hit in slangs right now, are like your grandma’s window-shops, your mama’s television commercials and the true future of communication. This, obviously, implies pros and cons. A so-called Youtuber is actually no more intelligent than a common citizen: sure, he’s extremely charismatic, but it doesn’t make them that special or more worthy. That said, an influencer needs just the same respect and dignity as a consumer.
I am making this huge introduction because I want to tell a story. It’s the story of that time when I got pissed off, the time when I quitted a job, the time when I was a witness of a body shaming discrimination. I will try to teach something out of it, hoping that you can follow me on this one.
Last year I started a collaboration with a startup (obviously I’m not going to disclosure its name) which operates in the food sector. The packaging was extremely catchy, we had a bath-tub in the middle of the office, the fridge was always fool of Prosecco, my boss was only 27. Everything looked cool, we worked as crazy people (daylight, where are you) and I was happy.
After few weeks, things started to get weird. My managers, especially one, were pushing me to close deals with Instagram celebrities. We are talking about trashy reality shows and so on: nothing noble, a lot of breasts and really bad quality marketing. I was spending thousands of euros, and getting very shitty outcomes. Anyhow, I thought, this is company’s money and they are the bosses.
I then tried to get braver. C’mon, I told myself, I’m a Bossy writer – I believe that there’s surely something more important than breasts and bad television in this world. I believe in ethics, in my own intellectual integrity and in doing my job right. I totally reject women objectification, especially inside the marketing world. Anyway, I broke down at work. I started to decide by myself, and stop contacting these people. I started deals with funny and witty ladies on Youtube, aware that this could be the perfect fit for the company’s product.
One day I see this Youtuber: Muriel. She’s a young girl, perfectly fitting with our target, she bakes great cupcakes and she’s spontaneous. My managers are totally going to back me up on this, I said to myself.
I finally show Muriel’s profile to my manger. He shouts up, looks at Muriel pictures and at her profile. He then looks carefully at her face, then her body. I follow his movements, and I don’t like the atmosphere. After a while he looks at me saying “This is a no Giulia, too fat.”
I jump out of my chair.
I must be my English, I think. I must have suddenly forgotten the language. Maybe he talked in French, that’s why I didn’t get it right. “C’mon” he continues “girls that buy our products want to see the skinny ones, the beautiful and fit ones.” “No they don’t” I reply “and she’s not fat, anyway.” Even if she was, I tell myself, is it any of your business? This manager is a moron, a 40-year old something who probably has euros instead of eye pupils. 250 swearing words suddenly cross my mind, and I wish I can smash his Napoleon head with an aluminum hammer.
I breath.
Back to my desk. I regret to have already sent a commercial email to Muriel (I was that sure that she would eventually being taken as an influencer), but I am happy that now she’s in the game and that I thought of her without even considering her weight as an issue: I’m still a human being, after all.
Back home I think about my beliefs, I think about postmodern feminism and everything that goes along with it, I think about my daily struggles to back up my personal cause. I think about Italy, about Italian teenagers. I remember exactly how is the Italian standard for being pretty: turns out is as close as fashion anorexia as you can imagine. I think about Muriel, who believes in her job and in her channel, and I get so angry because this kind of discrimination can potentially happen other times often, if this mentality keeps going on.
I’m sorry, but I don’t play in this game. I am not a 12-year old bully that rejects the chubby girl from his playground because she cannot play softball as the others. I don’t make people feel inadequate and ashamed of their body. Hell no.
That weekend I wrote an email. I decided to quit and end my collaboration with the startup. I wrote complaining about the direction of the company, I said that this was not my game at all. “Maybe I’m not a shark enough” I said, thinking “happily, I still have a moral”. I didn’t say a word about that manager, but still I was honest.
What was my victory in all of this? For the next two weeks after my decision, the CEO tried constantly to have me back. I said again no, and the manager sooner enough got kicked out. Muriel managed to mention the product in her channel (she was chosen to be our profile, after all) and for what I know things are getting much better now. No more bullies around, no more breasts and bad quality marketing.
Why am I writing this now? To give you guys an example. I am not a heroin, I didn’t save children in Kosovo and I am not a martyr. I am a common girl, maybe way too into politics and a little of a pain in the ass when it comes to idealism, but still I always try to act according to my ethical and moral values.
I want to do my job right, and boycott these morons. Think about it: sometimes true acting can be more powerful than a Facebook Like on a lefty-post and some repost of Huffington break news on your Twitter. Sometimes if we hear bullies on the street calling a girl “fat” we go and we face those idiots. Sometimes if your manager is a male chauvinist asshole you face him, protest and then quit your paid job.
My article wants to make you act, and to make you say “go fuck yourself, body shaming”.
