Why does it always come back to baking?

Do you remember how, earlier this year, I wrote here that I thought City sexism was on the last slow train from Waterloo - waving us farewell as it downed its last G&T, and lit up its last cigar?

You do? Really?

What's that?

Oh, that's so nice of you to say!

Well, anyway, it turns out I was wrong. Yes, I'm afraid so. Very wrong. To put it bluntly I was as wrong as a rat up an S-bend. Like a frog in a toaster. Wrong.

What do I mean? Well, yesterday at work (an investment bank) I received this email:

Sent: 10th September 2012 11.21am

Dear Ladies of <my bank>

Do any of you think you will have the time/energy to whizz up some cakes for our (charity) Foundation bake sale this Wednesday & Thursday?

Please do let me know...thanks,

<sender name withheld>

I'm tempted to stop writing here. You can see what I mean.

What's that?

No!

I'm not having you on. That's an actual, real email.  I'm protecting the identity of the sender. I don't mean to single them out for this, this...de-vancement of our status, shall we say. I'm just...distressed.

See, women actually died fighting for the vote in England. Oh I know you know that, but I wonder if enough people know that. I'm not sure they do. Or maybe they learned it, but have forgotten. I'm not sure what's worse!

You know, we only got that vote on equal age terms in 1928.

What?

No, no. The 1918 legislation gave us the vote at 30. Our vote was only lowered to the same age as men in 1928 - in those days 21 years of age. Campaigning for women's rights was a crime. Many suffragettes went to prison. Yes, jailed! I think the best you could hope as a campaigner was suffering only ridicule. And total social exclusion.

I know. It's bizaare to think of it now, isn't it? I mean it's so long ago (well, not that long really, but seems like it).  So...yes. I'm just a bit distressed, that's all. I wasn't expecting it. I mean, I was at work. In 2012. The thought that someone is here, looking around, thinking of women as the lone resource for...baking...well, it's got me worried.

Why does it always come back to baking, do you think? Baking for kids' schools. Baking for the village fete. Baking in films...even that great film Bridesmaids which showed women's conversations about cocks as they actually are (you know, in the cafe scene early on, when she makes some bollocks with her arms and closes one eye?). Yeah, even in that film the main character, Annie, finds love and resurrection through...baking! But at work too? Really?

What's that? Bigger picture?

Huh. You know what, you are totally right. That's how I should be thinking about it.
So by putting the 'women = always = baking' thing aside, as you suggest, this is actually about the economics of charity. It would be better to try and get as many cakes as possible to sell, right? I mean, I like cooking (of which baking is a sub-set), but Gordon 'WTF' Ramsey likes cooking too, doesn't he? And other men do too. So, well, why not ask everyone in the office if they would like to contribute to the charity day by baking cakes for sale. Because, and here's the clincher to your argument, us women like eating them! So if both men and women get the opportunity to bake, buy and eat then we're making more cakes and more money. And, this is the City - we like making money. After all, thanks to slow-but-wonderful laws I get to keep the money I earn too. I can spend it how I like (which wasn't always the case). I can spend my own money on cakes, on charity, on...whatever.

What? I'm still too serious you think?

Oh. I know. Yes it is funny. And it does make me laugh, I promise. Or it will tomorrow. Maybe.

If you don't laugh you cry, right?

What?

Who sent it?

Oh, someone in HR.