Rhidian looked so wounded by my betrayal, the ball of anxiety swirling in my gut swelled into my throat so I could hardly speak.
‘No, well, I… I might have mentioned it in passing, but only to say that you had this great idea!’
‘You had no right to talk to anyone about it.’
‘Look, he probably just stole the title, I didn’t even tell him much about your idea, he must have just—’ But Rhidian cut me off.
‘I don’t want to talk to you about it, Poppy. You two deserve each other, you know that? I had you down as this… I really thought… But maybe Mel was right – ultimately you’re just out for yourself, just out to win.’
With that, he turned and left.
What had Mel been saying about me? What did he have me down as? Oh god, this was bad, this was really bad.
After the meeting I waited for JR.
‘I need to talk to you,’ I hissed.
He was talking to Shannon Long, who was congratulating him on his promotion. I expected him to look guilty, to be embarrassed by what he had done, but he just rolled his eyes at me.
‘Give me a minute, Shannon,’ he said, taking me over to a corner of the room. ‘Look, Poppy, you have to stop this. Nothing is happening between us, okay? You have to stop this teenage—’
‘What?’ I spat through gritted teeth. ‘You stole my idea, and you stole Rhidian’s!’
JR looked at me as though this was entirely new information. He looked around to see if anyone else was in earshot, then took my elbow and escorted me through to the empty production office beyond.
‘What are you talking about, Poppy?’
‘Banker’s Bonus? Tipsy and Tim? They don’t sound at all familiar?’ I cried.
‘Poppy, do you know how many ideas I have in development at any one time?’ JR shook his head. ‘I had a total of four quiz shows all based around the concept of winning differing sums of money in development last year. Your title might have influenced about two per cent of the concept. I was trying to help you, allow you to see the creative process. What would you have me do – put your name on the credits just for inputting a fraction of the title?’
‘Well, I… How do I know it’s just a fraction?’
‘Poppy, do you really think a twenty-two-year-old, who’s been working in TV for precisely three minutes, is going to be able to write a pitch that gets commissioned by ITV?’ JR laughed. ‘I was trying to mentor you, get you enthusiastic about your first format. Your idea wasn’t actually anything close to pitchable.’ JR pinched his forehead in frustration. ‘It is literally like getting a child to write “The cat wore a hat” and then the child shrieking, “Hey, I wrote Dr Seuss!” This is absolutely the last time I try to help someone.’
I felt totally thrown.
‘But… but what about Tipsy and Tim? That’s just a coincidence, is it? That that was the title of Rhidian’s idea?’
‘Poppy, do you know how long I’ve been working on this animation project?’ JR laughed again. ‘You really have no idea, do you? It’s been two years in development. I’ll admit you gave me the idea for the title, which was an improvement on the one I had before, but I don’t think you said more than two words about it.’ JR sighed. ‘Look, I’ll write your boyfriend a cheque for those two words I’ve plagarized and he can still call his little drawing project whatever he likes.’
I wanted to grab JR by his smug throat. Fury welled up inside me.
‘He’s not my boyfriend,’ I blurted, though this was the least relevant point to be taking objection to.
‘Well, I think he wants to be. I’ve seen the way he follows you around like a lost dog. Maybe he’ll be the Mr Romantic you’ve been looking for, Dangermouse?’
JR tried to touch my arm affectionately, apparently to diffuse my anger and lighten the mood.
‘Don’t touch me.’
‘Look, ideas come from everywhere, Poppy, they don’t just jump onto the screen fully formed. That’s the skill – pulling in a hundred strands and turning them into something workable. You contributed a strand, well done, that’s more than most people do. Hey, maybe I’ll give you a job on the show… if you stop looking like you want to scratch my eyes out. You can be a good little worker when you’re not having a teenage tantrum.’
I glared at him, speechless.
‘What about it, Dangermouse?’ JR said, smiling. ‘I’m starting production next month, I’ll give you a researcher job as a peace offering. Four months’ work, then it doesn’t even matter if you win this runner’s placement or not.’
‘Screw you, JR, and screw your job,’ I said.
I turned around, meaning to stalk off, head held high, but instead I walked full pelt into a table full of empty coffee cups, half a dozen of which went flying into the air and shattered all over the floor.
‘Ow.’ I gritted my teeth. That really hurt.
Everyone in the next room turned to look at me and I made a half-hearted wave to explain that I was okay. I crouched down to start picking up the shattered pieces.
JR bent down to help me, chuckling. ‘Always an expert at making an exit, hey, Penfold?’
‘DON’T talk to me,’ I hissed.
‘Look, job offer’s there, Dangermouse. Don’t cut off your nose to spite your face. It’s a very pretty nose…’
I was shaking with rage by the time I got out onto the street. I tried to call Rhidian – I needed a chance to explain – but his phone went straight to answerphone.
‘Rhidian, hi, it’s Poppy. Please let me explain. I honestly didn’t tell JR much about your idea… I just mentioned that you had this great idea and he should talk to you about it. I am so sorry, I—’
I was cut off by the beeps so called again.
‘Hey, it’s me again, sorry, I got cut off by the beeps. They don’t give you very much time to leave a message, do they? God, it’s like, “Ready, steady, leave a message”.’ I laughed nervously. ‘Look, anyway, as I was saying, you have to let me explain what happened, it looks sooooo much worse than—’ The beeps cut me off again, and I am left talking to myself. Damn it. I couldn’t leave a third message. I sent him a text, asking him to call.
STEP 41 – TECHNOLOGY IS YOUR FRIEND – KEEP ABREAST OF THE LATEST UPDATES
TO:
FROM:
SUBJECT: Your iPad
Dear Poppy,
How are you, darling? Not had cause to use your Rapelet yet, I hope, ha ha! (I’ve managed to get a bulk-order discount from the company, so do let me know if you need more for your media friends?)
Now, in more distressing news, you know you said I could use the old iPad you left at home (the one with the slight crack on the screen)? Well, I’ve been getting rather into iPading – it’s very useful for buying climbing equipment on-the-line. Anyway, the screen occasionally pops up with a ‘synchronizing data’ symbol and then, well, Poppy, the strangest photos pop up on my screen! I’ve had one of you in a wedding dress! (Is there something you are not telling me?) And then several photos of, well, some unnaturally large male genitalia! I didn’t want to alarm you, but I’ve got no idea what is going on. I worry I might have given your iPad a virus or some kind of illness.
Can you tell me what I should do?
Love
Mum
TO:
FROM:
SUBJECT: FWD: Your iPad.
Nat, see this email from my mum. I left my bloody iPad at home and told her she could use it, and now its syncing all the pictures from my iPhone.
HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO EXPLAIN THE AFOREMENTIONED PHOTOS???
I blame you entirely. YOU took that wedding dress photo and YOU made me give my number to that creepy American guy.
Px
PS Sorry to be so miserable last night. Thanks for being a sympathetic ear about all my work dramas.
TO:
TO:
SUBJ
ECT: FWD: Your iPad.
Ha ha! Your mum is hilarious. Blame it on the dog. Or admit that you plan to marry a very well-hung man and are currently working on a mood board that you wanted to share with her…
On a more serious note, do NOT stress about Rhidian hating you/JR being a knob head. I hate to see you as down as you were last night – that is not the Popster I know! I am sure you will be able to put it right and everything will be fine : )
Let’s have a Nachos Night tonight to cheer you up? I don’t have any cheese… or nachos… or sour cream… or guac… So if you could pick some up from Sainsbury’s on your way home? That would be amazeballs.
xxN
TO:
FROM:
SUBJECT: RE: Your iPad.
Mum,
Got your email. I don’t know what is going on with the photo syncing? The picture of me in the wedding dress came from a shoot for this TV show I was working on, Changing Grooms (the cameramen needed me to try on one of the dresses to check it looked white on camera). Perhaps I emailed it to you by accident when I meant to email it to work.
As for the other pictures, I think the iPad must definitely have a virus. Please turn it off completely and I will ‘de-virus’ it when I am next home… Definitely don’t use it, otherwise it might explode everywhere. I have some old stuff on there I need, so can’t have it exploding.
Love from Poppy
PS And it’s ‘online’ not ‘on-the-line’!
STEP 42 – FREELANCING CAN BE HARD – LINE UP YOUR NEXT JOB BEFORE THE CURRENT ONE FINISHES
THE NEXT AFTERNOON, Dominic intercepted me in the corridor.
‘Ah, Poppy, there you are. Can I have five minutes?’
‘Sure,’ I said.
I followed Dominic through to his ping-pong-table-sized office and took a seat on the little pouffe. I started to have uncomfortable flashbacks about the Guantanamo interview all those months ago.
‘Right, well, I have some good news and some bad news,’ Dominic said.
‘Right.’ I tugged at my skirt nervously.
‘The good news is that people have been speaking very highly of you, Poppy. I think you’ve done a great job here over the last few months and, from a personal perspective, I’ve enjoyed having you on the team. I can see you making a go of it in TV, Poppy – you’ve got the right attitude. I don’t say that about a lot of people.’
‘Thanks, Dominic,’ I said, wondering where this was going.
‘James Ravenstone tells me you have a real eye for development, and that you even helped him with aspects of the idea for his new commission?’
‘Something like that.’
‘He’s a hard man to please, so you must have done something right. Vanya Bolton is also a fan – she wants to offer you a job on the next series of Changing Grooms, starting in April.’
‘Oh, right,’ I said, trying to hide my disappointment. ‘Was that the good news?’
‘That’s not the only job offer. JR wants to offer you a researcher role on Banker’s Bonus, starting the week after next. You’ve just been offered your first researcher job, Poppy – congratulations.’ Dominic reached out to shake my hand.
‘What’s the bad news?’ I said, knowing what was coming next.
‘Well, I’m afraid the bad news is that you didn’t win the placement, Poppy.’ Dominic shrugged. ‘But that shouldn’t matter. The main aim of the scheme is to get work in the industry, and you’ve already got two job offers, so you should be very happy.’
‘So Rhidian won?’ I asked.
‘Yes. I wanted to let you know first, Poppy, so I’d appreciate it if you kept it to yourself until I can speak to him. He’ll get a one-year contract with us as a researcher, but honestly, Poppy, you’ve got two exceptional producers who want to employ you, and the timeline works to give you eight months of continuous employment – that’s incredible. You should be proud of yourself. It was a close call in the placement vote if that makes you feel any better.’
My heart sank. Dominic thought he was giving me good news, but I was devastated. My one opportunity to stay at RealiTV meant working for JR. I couldn’t work with him after all that had happened.
‘And, um, in theory, if I didn’t want to work on those shows, do you think there would be anything else at RealiTV?’ I asked quietly, knowing how ridiculous I sounded.
‘Poppy, why wouldn’t you want to work on Banker’s Bonus? Trust me, this has all worked out perfectly for you. It’s rare for me to be telling both placement runners they’ve got work. You’ve done well, go celebrate.’
‘But if I didn’t…’
‘Well, if you didn’t, I guess you could apply for work at other production companies. I’ll give you a good reference and I know JR would. But it’s always harder to get a job from people who don’t know you. You’ve made a good foundation here, Poppy; I’d hang around if I were you.’
‘Sure, thanks, Dominic. Let me think about it.’
‘So you still officially have two weeks left on the placement. I just wanted to give you advance warning, time to make plans, and speak to JR about when he’d want you to start. Before then, Shannon Long has asked if you and Rhidian could help out on the launch show for Strictly Come Prancing next week. They are using a much bigger studio this series, so it will be all hands on deck.’
Though it meant me losing, I guess I was pleased for Rhidian. He’d worked hard and he was a good runner – he deserved to win. As my mind turned to Rhidian, my whole body tensed; he’d looked so hurt and wounded by my breach of his trust. I couldn’t get his face out of my head all night. I’d tried to call him back last night, but he’d refused to pick up. I didn’t know what else to do. Next week he would have to talk to me – we’d be working together on Shannon’s show – but I couldn’t wait four whole days to sort this out.
On my way home from work, I aimlessly wandered around Sainsbury’s. I needed to pick up some food for Natalie’s nacho night. I picked up a brand of crisps we used to eat at uni and a wave of nostalgia hit me. I missed Bristol. This was the first time since leaving that I’d really missed it. At university, all you had to worry about was going to a few lectures and having enough money for drinks at the bar. In London, you had loads to worry about: how you were going to earn money to pay rent, where your next job would come from, whether you were even on the right career path… How you were going to get Rhidian to like you again. That was a lot to worry about. Life was a lot simpler at university – it felt hard to fail. Now, for the first time in my life, I felt as though I was failing at everything.
I stood in front of the cheese fridge contemplating a vast selection of cheese. There was mild, medium, mature and extra-mature cheddar, Monterey Jack, Edam, Gruyère, blue cheese, semi-soft cheese, goats’ cheese… I stared at them all, overwhelmed by the sheer range of cheeses on offer.
‘Excuse me,’ said a shop assistant, trying to replenish stock.
I was standing with the door ajar, holding a large piece of Gruyère in one hand and three different types of cheddar in the other.
‘What if I don’t know?’ I said to him wearily. ‘What if I don’t know what cheese I want? I mean, I thought I knew, everyone knows it’s cheddar, right? Everyone knows cheddar goes with nachos, but what if that’s just what people want me to think? What if it’s my parents who want me to be cheddar? Maybe it’s better to be Edam? I’ve never even tried melting Edam, maybe it would be nice with nachos. Has anyone ever thought of that?’
I was ranting, starting to sound hysterical. The shop assistant reached out to pick up one of the cheeses I’d dropped on the floor.
‘Are you okay, miss?’ He looked concerned.
‘So what if Edam doesn’t even taste very nice melted? Huh! So what? At least I tried, at least I tried to make my own cheese choices – I didn’t just do what everyone else did! The same old unquestioning cheese policy!’
People in the store were starting to stare at me now.
/> ‘Miss, you need to calm down,’ said the man, taking my arm.
‘They’re controlling the cheese decisions! I need to be able to make my own cheese choices.’ I held the Gruyère and mature cheddar above my head. ‘I LOVE GRUYÈRE! THERE, I’VE SAID IT! THAT’S THE ONE I WANT! But it doesn’t love me any more…’ I let out a sob.
‘No one’s trying to control your cheese-buying decisions,’ said the man, looking around in embarrassment.
‘They are! People said: “go to uni, then make your own choices – it will open doors, the world will be your oyster”, but what if it isn’t? What if it’s all just controlled by the cheese people? What if no one gets to have Gruyère or Edam, everyone just conforms and has cheddar because it’s the path of least resistance?’
This is where I started to gesticulate wildly and the cheddar (quite accidentally) flew out of my hand and (quite accidentally) struck the shop assistant in the face.
I stopped talking at that point, and found myself being escorted into a back room by a security man. He loomed over me as I sat in a flimsy chair, surrounded by fruit crates.
‘We have a zero-tolerance policy on violence towards our staff,’ he said.
‘I’m so sorry, it was an accident. I… I’ve had a bad day.’ I sniffed.
‘You know, it’s company policy for us to call the police now.’
‘Oh, please don’t call the police,’ I pleaded. ‘I promise, this is not usually the kind of thing I would do. I don’t know what came over me… I was just having a weird cheese-themed meltdown; I didn’t mean to hit him.’
As a compromise, store security asked me to call someone respectable who would vouch for my sanity and come to collect me. I said I knew a very respectable lawyer.
‘Um, Natalie, I’ve got myself into a little pickle down at Sainsbury’s—’
‘Shoplifting?’
‘No! No, nothing like that, it’s all a bit of a misunderstanding, er… Can you come and get me?’
Half an hour later, Natalie was escorting me off the premises and I had been given a store ban (which was actually really inconvenient, as it was the closest place to buy food, apart from the Quik Food store, and that always smelt really badly of old eggs).
How to Get Ahead in Television Page 22