Chazaqiel (headinclouds) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2009-10-10 12:36:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | chazaqiel |
Who: Doug Bickmore and colleagues (NPCs)
Where: WNPZ newsroom
When: Friday, late morning
What: Doug has a slight Mike Moore moment. Not to be confused with a Michael Moore moment, which has more liberal rage and sensationalism.
It was a fairly well-known fact that Doug Bickmore was a lightweight.
It's not that he wasn't good at his job. The man could enunciate with the best of 'em. He had in his arsenal seven variations of head tilt, ranging from concerned to skeptical, his fake chuckle wasn't too fake, and when he hummed with that ever-so-slight twist of the lip and that serious crease of the brow, you really could believe that he was mulling over the gravity of the news story he'd just presented and not, as was more often the case, rehearsing his Regional Emmy acceptance speech in his head. Provided everything was spelt phonetically he could read off a teleprompter like no man, and he wasn't in the habit of making sleazy ad-libs or urging co-presenters to commit bestiality, which everybody ranked as a plus.
No, as ill-liked as Doug was by both colleagues and employers alike, he wasn't a bad newsreader. He just had no idea how to play the game. He didn't understand the way the media machine operated, not really.
The job, as Doug perceived it, could be summarised thusly: News happened. Frequently, this news consisted of jet-skiing squirrels, piano-playing pooches and kitty fashion shows. Sometimes he would muse to himself that it was strange, wasn't it, the way the world could stop for a cat in a stupid costume, but who was he to judge? Often celebrities and politicians had affairs with people they oughtn't. When stories of these sorts were in short supply, reports regarding the shady dealings of a crooked local lawyer or tradesman had a surprising habit of simply materialising. Doug-slash-everybody-but-him gathered all these news stories, and then he reported them, thereby delivering the truth to the masses. Simple.
He didn't understand demographics or advertising dollars. Ratings, in Doug's mind, were simply an indicator of how much people loved Doug Bickmore (or, if the show had rated poorly, how much everybody else in the office was dragging him down). He had no idea what it was that kept a TV station like theirs up in the air, nor how an ambitious local news anchor might seek to move up in the world.
Yes, Doug Bickmore was a lightweight. Almost everybody knew it.
In fact, it seemed like the only person who didn't was Doug Bickmore himself.
"Bickmore, three o'clock." Anna mumbled.
Brian Kennedy, executive producer, raised his head to glance through the glass door of the office, and grimaced. "Fuck. I thought he wasn't getting in till after lunch."
"He looks pretty shitty," she mused. "What d'you think's got up his ass this time?"
Brian rubbed his forehead wearily. "I have a feeling we're about to find out."
Doug was angry. He was also purposeful. Stalking across the newsroom towards the office of Brian Kennedy, executive producer, his expression was set. The image was only slightly spoiled by the strawberries and crème frappuccino he was carrying in one hand.
He burst inside breathlessly, his face slightly red. "I'm sorry, Brian, I really am. I've tried to keep it quiet, take one for the team and all. I've sat by and watched while my newsroom went to Hell in a handbasket and I didn't say a thing, but I have had it up to here." He gestured near his neck, emphasising the final word for effect. Again, probably would have been more effective had he used the hand not presently occupied with holding the girly drink.
But Brian's face was a picture of concern. "What's wrong, Doug?"
"It's that-- woman," he seethed.
Oh. And suddenly Brian knew where this was going. "You're talking about McKenzie?"
Anna began edging towards the door.
"Yes I'm talking about McKenzie!" Doug exploded. "I can't take it any more, Brian. She's always-- she's just-- there. Leering over my shoulder, reading off my script-- swanning around like she owns the set…"
"Doug, she's your co-anchor."
"Exactly! She's weighing me down! You know me, Brian. Doug Bickmore works alone. I'm like a-- like--" Shit, what was the line again? "A lone wolf! A lone wolf, preying on buffalo, except the buffalo are news stories and I'm-- no, wait."
Brian Kennedy, executive producer, had a theory about news anchors. They were, he maintained, much like skittish animals or small children. You had to handle them gently. A soft, reassuring voice, a light ego stroke… a spoonful of sugar. That was the way to go.
(Ironically, Brian's own twelve-year-old son had not been on speaking terms with his father for some months.)
Brian heaved a long sigh, and looked Doug directly in the eye. "Okay, look man, I'll be honest with you. I didn't want to girl pulling hosting duties at all."
Anna stopped edging towards the door and shot Brian an incredulous look.
"I knew it." Doug punched the air. Frappuccino sloshed over his hand.
"I mean, look at her. Fresh out of college, green as anything. Hell, you won't get anywhere in this industry just by being a pretty face."
"Tell me about it," Doug nodded emphatically.
"So I told them, I said, 'You don't understand. Doug Bickmore, he's a solo act, he's like a, like a--'"
"A lone wolf?"
"Exactly! 'A lone wolf, who stalks the plains of current affairs and wrestles the buffalo of news. You can't just go tying him to some broad, and I don't care what your polling says. This man is a professional, this man is--'"
"Wh- wait, what does the polling say?"
Brian glanced up distractedly. Inwardly, he had broken out into a smirk. "Huh?"
Doug was frowning. "You said something about polls, you don't care about what the polls say, what--"
"And I don't, man." Brian interrupted firmly. "Everyone knows those viewer surveys are bullshit. Your job is to read the news and we both know that's a one-man job, no matter how many people think you look more masculine doing it next to a chick..."
Doug suddenly sounded doubtful. "Well... yeah. I mean, but you don't want to dismiss the audience out of... people really think that?"
"Seventy-six per cent of 'em, something like that," Brian shrugged dismissively, pretending not to see the thoughtful expression in his anchor's eyes. "But look, Doug, I don't want you worrying about shit like that. You're a pro. You just keep doing what you're doing. It's that McKenzie Miller girl who's gotta watch her back."
This was enough to shake Doug out of his egocentric reverie. "What do you mean?" He demanded, frowning.
Brian appeared to hesitate, as though he'd said more than he'd intended. Then he sighed. "Okay, man, I didn't want to say anything, but... I mean, she's out of line, we all know it. Fraternisation in the office, it's bad for morale-- and with a senior co-anchor, no less..."
"What?"
Hook. Line. Sinker.
Anna clapped a hand over her mouth, either to hide her amazement or stifle a laugh.
Brian's eyes widened. "Shit, man, I thought you knew! The way the girl's always looking at you, it's disgusting. You mark my words, she's on her way out."
"W-well, hang on, I mean, let's not be hasty about anything..."
"She's cramping your style, Doug," he insisted. "You said it yourself, you're a lone wolf!"
Doug was backpedalling at full speed, now. Fraternisation… "I-- yeah, but I suppose-- you know, even a lone wolf can have a ma-- co-presenter. Right?"
Brian studied the other man speculatively. Finally, he gave a slow nod. "This is your call, man. I've told you what I think of the girl-- unless you want to vouch for her--"
"Well, obviously she's got a lot to learn," Doug ventured, "But if she's got me... you know, as a model to look up to..." He trailed off.
"You're a better man than I am, Doug." Brian sank back into his chair. "Alright. She stays, for now. You keep her in line, okay?"
"Yes, sir." Doug nodded dutifully. He turned back for the door then paused. "Hey, Brian?"
"Yeah?"
"You think I could get a copy of that polling data?"
"Sure thing, man. I'll have someone bring it to your office."
Doug left the office in good spirits, buoyed by the victory he believed he'd won.
Brian settled back in his chair with a satisfied smirk.
"Anna, see if you can dig up the AGM report from last year. Stick a coversheet on it - 'Polling Data, September '09', something like that."
Anna raised an eyebrow. "You don't think he's gonna see through that?"
"I don't think he's gonna get past the table of contents."
"You're evil, you know that?"
Brian's smile only widened. "I know," he said. "I know."