How to Get Ahead in Television Read online

  He was standing very close to me as the room was so small, his sparkling green eyes beaming down at me in amusement. I knew his type, I’d met plenty of them at university: hyper-aware of how good-looking they were and effortlessly confident in their own skin. Annoyingly, these were always the kind of guys I found attractive… But not this guy. I couldn’t possibly like this guy, he was exhibiting a whole new level of infuriating self-confidence.

  ‘What do you mean “may the best man win”?’ I asked.

  ‘Well, we’re in direct competition, aren’t we, Poppy? Two runners, one job at the end of it. I’m just saying I won’t shy away from a bit of healthy competition.’

  ‘What is he talking about?’ I looked to the others.

  ‘Oh, didn’t you know?’ said David. ‘Only one of the runners on the placement gets offered a job at the end of it.’

  ‘RealiTV’s evil way o’ motivatin’ folk they pay pittance to work crazy-ass hours,’ Helen added with a shrug.

  ‘Really?’ This was news to me. I’d assumed from Dominic’s email that if I worked hard there would be a job for me at the end of it, not that I would be competing for one position.

  ‘Worried, are we?’ Rhidian said with a grin.

  ‘Not in the least,’ I lied. ‘Not in the least.’

  STEP 7 – GET IN EARLY (OR AT LEAST EARLIER THAN EVERYONE ELSE)

  TO:

  FROM:

  SUBJECT: Meeting up with Ian

  Poppy dear,

  Lovely to speak to you on the phone last night. Your father and I are glad to hear your first few days on the TV job have gone so well. I’m very surprised they’ve given you your own office! In any case, it sounds like a better way to spend a few months earning a bit of cash than the chambermaiding, doesn’t it? Do make sure you put money aside though, won’t you? It’s never too early to start saving for a house deposit.

  Now, while you’re in town you will look up Lorraine’s son Ian, won’t you? Lorraine’s told him you’re going to call, so you really must. Even if it doesn’t lead to anything at Lloyds itself, I’m sure he can give you some valuable pointers on finding a career path that has some real long-term viability.

  Love from

  Mum

  x

  P.S. You left most of your knickers at home, I found them in the ironing pile. Do you need me to post them to you at Natalie’s or to your work? Alternatively, there’s a good deal on at Marksies (3 for 2 on multipacks), so maybe splash out on some new ones now you’re a working girl?

  I SCURRIED ALONG the street, quickly writing a reply to my mother’s email: ‘DO NOT SEND KNICKERS TO MY WORK’. I was trying to get to the office early to nab the second computer. Having worked in the post room for a few days, it had become clear that one of the computers was basically Helen’s (though we could use it if she’s wasn’t there) and the other one functioned on a first-come-first-served basis. I had also discovered that being on the computer translated to having a much better day at work. Being on the computer had several advantages. Firstly, you got to sit down (always preferable to running around). Secondly, you could choose which jobs you would do and which you would give to the other two. Thirdly, and most importantly, you got to reply to emails, hence being able to PR yourself to the rest of the company as a very helpful person.

  For example, if Head of Comedy Phil Farmer emailed the runners to say, ‘Can one of you fix the printer in our office?’ then one of two things would happen. If I was manning the computer, I could reply: ‘No problem, Phil, we’ll get that sorted straight away. Yours, Poppy Penfold’, then send Rhidian off to fix it. In this scenario Phil would associate my name with efficiency and general job-getting-done-ness. However, if I was not on the computer, the outcome would not be so good; Rhidian or David would send me to fix said printer, I would fail to do so (since I had no idea how to fix my own sandwich-sized printer at home, let alone the picnic-table-sized printers they had here) and I would just be known by very important Phil Farmer as ‘muppet girl who came to fix the printer and failed’. The first scenario was definitely preferable, hence the rushing into work.

  My official shift was nine a.m. until six-thirty p.m., but today I was in at eight forty-five, hoping fifteen minutes was just enough to give me the edge.

  ‘Morning, Poppy!’ said Rhidian gleefully as I ran into the post room.

  Damn him.

  ‘You’re early,’ I observed.

  ‘Oh, just got here,’ he said. ‘My train was early.’

  His train was early, yeah right. Trains aren’t early. He just got an earlier train to beat me at my own game.

  ‘Lots to do today?’ I asked innocently, taking a temporary seat at Helen’s computer and trying not to sound out of breath.

  ‘Hmm, not much has come through yet. Lots of scripts that need photocopying for Last Clan Standing up on the Entertainment floor. Do you want to do that?’

  ‘Do I want to do that?’ I hated the way Rhidian asked if I wanted to do something, pretending to be all friendly as though it was a request, when in reality he was relishing the fact he could boss me around just because he beat me to the computer.

  ‘Fine. Yes, I’m happy to do that, just please can I not be sent to fix any more printers today? Or at least can someone show me how to fix a printer first?’

  Rhidian laughed. ‘It usually tells you on the control panel what to do, it’s not that hard.’

  I made a face at the back of Rhidian’s head, silently mouthing ‘it’s not that hard’, just as David arrived. David looked amused that he’d caught me in this small act of rebellion.

  ‘Mature,’ he said.

  ‘What?’ Rhidian swung his chair around. ‘Oh, morning, mate, how are you?’

  ‘I have been better,’ David sighed.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I asked.

  ‘What is wrong?’ David exhaled a long, slow, resigned breath. ‘There is an all-night screening of the life works of Francis Ford Coppola tonight at the BFI, which, due to the mind-numbing tedium of having to earn a living, I will not be able to attend.’

  ‘What films did she make again?’ I asked.

  ‘Francis Ford Coppola is not a she, you ignoramus. He is one of the greatest film directors who ever lived.’

  David looked physically wounded by my ignorance and pinched the bridge of his nose as though trying to stave off a migraine.

  ‘Sounds like a girl’s name to me,’ I muttered.

  ‘Couldn’t you at least watch some of the films, even if you don’t stay up all night?’ suggested Rhidian.

  ‘No, genius, I couldn’t.’ David rolled his eyes at us both. ‘Partially engaging in a film-a-thon of this nature would be tantamount to sacrilege. I’d rather not glimpse the delights of such a perfect evening than attend and have to leave prematurely.’

  ‘Just go then.’ I shrugged. ‘Pull an all-nighter and be tired at work tomorrow.’

  ‘That is not the right attitude, Poppy. Do you know how many people count on us to steer this televisual ship? Do you know how many days would be ruined by a runners’ room running at half mast?’

  ‘Um, well, I’m sure we could pick up the slack…’

  I looked to Rhidian, who nodded that indeed we could.

  ‘No, no, this film-a-thon will have to be chalked up as another casualty of my career. Francis would understand. Sacrifices are always required in the pursuit of excellence.’

  I tried to suppress a laugh. The way David talked about his career, anyone would think he was director general of the BBC, rather than a forty-two-year-old runner still working in the post room.

  ‘So what’s on the list of tasks today, my man?’ David asked Rhidian.

  ‘Printer in Factual is on the blink again,’ said Rhidian.

  ‘Mission accepted, captain.’ David saluted and backed out of the room with a bow.

  ‘So I’ll go and help copy those scripts, I guess,’ I said.

  ‘If you’re sure. I mean, y
ou could take over here and I could go and do some jobs if you’d rather?’ Rhidian offered.

  He sat back in the chair, the sleeves of his white linen shirt rolled up to reveal tanned muscular forearms. He was chewing on a Biro lid and I couldn’t help but notice how soft his lips looked as they pushed the pen lid around the edges of his mouth. Soft yet firm… manly yet…

  ‘Poppy?’

  Huh?’ I said, slightly lost in thought for a moment.

  ‘I said, you can take over here and I could go and do some jobs if you’d rather?’

  Ha, right! I pinched myself back to reality. Like I was going to admit that I wanted to be sitting at the computer rather than running around doing jobs; that was exactly what he wanted me to admit.

  ‘No, no, it’s fine. I don’t mind. It’s all the same to me.’

  STEP 8 – BECOME COMPUTER LITERATE ASAP

  TO:

  FROM:

  SUBJECT: Welcome

  Dear Poppy

  Welcome to the RealiTV Outlook service. Please give the IT department a call on 001 if you have any queries about your set-up.

  Yours

  Sam Carter

  IT Department

  RealiTV

  Because a real workforce makes real TV!

  TO:

  FROM:

  SUBJECT: Serious Work Email

  Nat,

  Check out my new email address! How pro am I? They’ve set us up with our own email addresses now as we’re starting on productions next week. I think I should start writing to big-shot famous Hollywood directors pitching ideas for screenplays. I mean, Tarantino isn’t going to reply to [email protected], but to [email protected], well, I bet all the emails from TV companies get fast-tracked or something? Right?

  This place is so ridiculous – everyone has this RealiTV Because a real workforce makes real TV! sign-off automatically attached to the bottom of their emails. What’s that about? They could at least come up with a decent slogan if they’re going to send it on the bottom of absolutely everything. I might suggest a few new ones to the CEO.

  RealiTV – Because TV is Reali Important…

  RealiTV – Because reality is our mentality…

  Hmmm. Needs more thought.

  So, You Know Who is still being superirritating. I made it to the computer first today (hence my ability to email you) and he’s acting like he’s not even bothered. He’s spent all morning loitering around the reception desk, chatting to stuck-up Mel, who keeps giggling at everything he says. God she’s annoying. Literally, she hasn’t said one word to me, but finds everything R says hil-fucking-arious! Grrr…

  X

  Poppy Penfold

  RealiTV

  Because we really don’t give a shit about making quality drama

  (Oooh, look, I managed to change my sign-off. Am IT genius!)

  TO:

  FROM:

  SUBJECT: IT

  Poppy,

  Your email account has been flagged to me by IT. Apparently you sent an email with ‘hazardous content’ enclosed? The Outlook server filters emails for bad language/suspicious content and automatically flags it to IT. So I’m giving you a heads up – basically, don’t swear in anything you’re sending from your RealiTV address. Comprende?

  Yours

  Dominic Green

  Office Manager

  RealiTV

  Because a real workforce makes real TV!

  TO:

  FROM:

  SUBJECT: RE: IT

  Hi Dominic,

  Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I don’t know how that can have happened. Perhaps a typo that came up as a swear word by mistake? I’ll be extra vigilant from now on. Apologies again.

  Yours

  Poppy Penfold

  RealiTV

  Because we really don’t give a shit about making quality drama

  TO:

  FROM:

  SUBJECT: RE: RE: IT

  Poppy

  I don’t think your new signature is very appropriate.

  Please amend before sending any more emails…

  Dominic Green

  Office Manager

  RealiTV

  Because a real workforce makes real TV!

  (Because quality drama is too expensive…)

  STEP 9 – VOLUNTEER ENTHUSIASTICALLY

  FROM: POPPY

  TO: NATALIE

  NAT, DON’T EMAIL MY WORK EMAIL, LINE NOT SAFE, BLOODY BUGGED OR SOMETHING, WILL EXPLAIN TONIGHT. NARROW ESCAPE ON POTENTIAL ALMIGHTY IT COCK UP. LUCKILY BOSS APPEARS TO HAVE SENSE OF HUMOUR… X P

  HELEN, RHIDIAN AND I were all sitting in the post room having a tea break.

  ‘So do we get any choice on which productions we’re sent on?’ Rhidian asked Helen.

  ‘No, they’ll just send you wherever they’re short. I think the new series o’ Changing Grooms is startin’ up next week,’ said Helen. ‘Or Last Clan Standin’ is massive, so they always need extra runners on that.’

  Just as I was about to ask a question, James Ravenstone, one of the big-shot entertainment producers who worked upstairs, poked his head around the post room door. In his mid-thirties, James was referred to by everyone as JR. He was quite stocky with brown hair, deep-set eyes and three-week-old stubble. He was attractive in a shorter-more-modern-version-of-Poldark sort of way. He was the kind of man who slightly intimidated me; he always looked serious and brooding when I saw him in the corridor. He wasn’t one for pleasantries.

  ‘Right, runners, who’s free to help with an office run-through? I need two of you, it’ll be an hour, max,’ he said.

  ‘James, you know how much I love bein’ a guinea pig in your evil games, but sadly someone ’as to keep the cogs of this corporation turnin’,’ said Helen, without looking up from her computer.

  ‘What about these two, the new kids?’ JR pointed at us both. ‘Rhidian, isn’t it?’ JR said, shaking Rhidian’s hand. ‘I’m James. I’ve got a new quiz show idea I’m piloting and I need a couple of contestants to stand in. You up for it?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ said Rhidian, jumping up in a flurry of keenness and taking the pen out of his mouth.

  ‘You, you free?’ JR turned to me.

  Why did he know Rhidian’s name and not mine? We’d been here exactly the same amount of time!

  ‘Poppy,’ I said, holding out my hand, but I was half hidden behind Rhidian so had to slowly retract it, hoping nobody had noticed.

  ‘Helen?’ I looked to Helen to see if it was okay if we both went.

  ‘Sure,’ said Helen. ‘David will be back in a bit, so we should be all right ’ere for an hour or so.’

  JR led us both down to the basement where there was a basic studio used for run-throughs, low-budget pilots and Christmas parties.

  ‘Thanks for doing this, guys,’ said JR. ‘We had two contestants drop out at the last minute, so it’s great you’re up for it.’

  ‘Can I just say, I loved the revival of all those old panel shows you did last year,’ Rhidian said.

  ‘Oh, you saw those?’ JR looked impressed. ‘Yeah, it was a shame we couldn’t do more, they were really well received. They totally cut through demographic-wise.’

  Rhidian and JR started chatting away about shows JR had produced. How did Rhidian know so much about everything? I bet he’d been doing research on all the producers here, ready to suck up to them at the first opportunity. Damn, maybe I should have done that?

  The corridor in the basement was too narrow for us to walk three abreast, so I trotted along behind, struggling to keep up with their conversation. I resolved to be more thorough in my television watching; I evidently needed to do my homework and take note of who was producing what. It wouldn’t be enough to just watch TV for fun any more.

&nbs
p; The basement studio was set up for a quiz show. There was a makeshift presenter’s desk and two mismatched podiums borrowed from old quiz show sets. Magnus Jerome was seated behind the presenter’s desk, a scarily intelligent political heavyweight who hosted late-night shows for the BBC on boring things like Syria and stamp duty.

  There were two middle-aged men standing behind the podiums on either side of Magnus. A crew of cameramen and production team milled about the studio, poised to begin. I suddenly felt a bit overwhelmed that we’d walked into such an elaborate set-up. JR hadn’t mentioned anything about cameras, or a presenter with formidably scary eyebrows.

  ‘Right, I found some more recruits,’ JR announced to the room. ‘Rhidian, why don’t you join Arnold’s team, Pam, you join Chris’s team.’

  He pointed to the two men standing behind the podiums and I identified Chris, wearing a big ‘Chris’ badge, waving at me.

  ‘Um, it’s Poppy,’ I quietly corrected him, but it was too late, he’d already stalked off to talk to Magnus.

  Jude, an assistant producer I recognized, ran over to me. She was a tall, waif-like brunette who looked as though she should have been on camera rather than working behind it. Jude handed me a name badge on which she’d hurriedly scrawled ‘Pam’.

  ‘I’m sorry, it’s actually Poppy, not Pam,’ I told her.

  ‘Oh, well, I don’t have any more of these self-adhesive badges… Do you mind just being Pam?’ Jude asked.

  ‘Sure,’ I shrugged, not wanting to make a fuss.

  I looked over at Rhidian, who silently mouthed ‘Pam’ at me. He stretched his arms out against the podium as though limbering up for a marathon.

  ‘So Pam and Chris will play Rhidian and Arnold. It’s pretty self-explanatory; basically, you have to win control of the board,’ JR said, indicating a flip-chart behind Magnus, ‘which will obviously be a bit more high-tech than this in the real thing. We hope. You never know with BBC budgets.’

  There were a few knowing laughs from the production team.

  ‘Once you have control of a topic you get five related questions, which only your teammate will get a go at. For every one you get wrong, your opponents will get a point. It’s all about predicting which subjects your teammate might be good at.’