Losers and Machos in the TV

I can feel the cold sweat dripping. I think of our house, foreclosed by the bank.

This week started like any other would, too. A meeting here, a presentation there, and then a group mail on Tuesday: non-scheduled meeting at one, compulsory for all. The corridor gossip started immediately, we were also caught with the recession, the management is not satisfied with the results, tightenings are on, and lay-offs are coming. I was just trying to comfort the others that there won't be anything bad, I know from John that the data are not that tragic, they calculated for the drops already.
Still, the meeting had a mood of gloom over it, the big boss was crunching his joints, writing long columns of data on the board, then he finally said that rationalization is necessary, we have to get rid of unnecessary parallel positions, we need to let some people go, else the company won't be able to stay afloat. Or: we can all agree to take a pay cut. He leaves this decision up to us, we need to tell our supervisor how we chose.
My immediate boss, John didn't leave me any time to think. He called me in immediately after the meeting. I couldn't even call Peter to tell him to finally get somewhere with B. about his contract. At least if I knew how much he will make, I could negotiate from a better position.
John tries to smile, but I can immediately see that there's some deep trouble. He tells me too how grave consequences the recession has.
I can feel the cold sweat dripping. I think of our house, foreclosed by the bank. The kids, who don't understand why they have to pack up their toys, why they have to move to a tiny apartment, so small they don't have enough space...
- Speaking of which, does Peter work already? - John pulls me back from the nightmare.
- Yes - I answer quickly. - Or well, not quite - I try to clarify. I'm fighting back tears as I explain that he still doesn't have a contract, we don't know how much he will make.
- Well that sure sounds bad - he says even gloomier. He's silent for a bit, and I'm contemplating running out of the office so he won't see me cry.
- Do you want me to put a few knives over his company's throat through my connections? It's just not cool that he works for weeks, but he not only doesn't get a contract, but not even a puny verbal agreement!
He shows that my husband is the loser with whom this can be done. And he's the big guy whose hand reaches everywhere. I hate these conceited machos, but I can't help it but see Peter more and more pitiful. As I hate weakness.
- Just let me know if I should fire up the connections! - John offers once again as I'm just silent. - And about the situation here, well, a few people mentioned why do we need a head of communications when we don't even get any orders...
I can't hold my tears back any longer.
- Oh, oh, no need to despair whilst I'm here! - he says and walks around his desk. He puts his hand on my shoulder as he continues: - Naturally, I would never agree to let you go. After all, we do make a fine team, the two of us.
He takes out a tissue and hands it to me.
- And about the pay cut, I persuaded the others, that your contract is a recession contract already, not from the good old days when our picket fence was made of salami still. We can't take any off of it, so we will reduce your optional perks a bit so they can't say that we make an exception of you.
At first I feel relief. That's it? But when he grabs my shoulder firmer, I frighten. I'm afraid he will hand me the bill right now. I raise my head almost pouting. I decided. If he blackmails me, I quit right now, I won't let myself be used...
But John sits back to his place.
- And in that other case just let me know and I will help immediately. Please send in the next one!
I can't go back to the office. I run out to the bathroom, I lock myself in a stall, and pushing my back against the wall I start to weep.
If Peter was there at that time, I think I would've scratched his eyes out.

I have read these times several times, but at that time I couldn't ask my questions to Sophie anymore. They slowly and quietly cooled away from each other with Peter, I think that's the best description for those times. They were rowing their own separate boats, and barely met. Peter put all his efforts into the new channel. True, it wasn't all the work, more the self-defense. And more and more it seemed to be useless:

The recordings have started. M. has officially asked me to train Sylvie. She was telling it to me as happily as if he was getting a root canal. The night before they went somewhere with B. The next day there was no word of her quitting if Miss Sylvie will be a host. So she became one. What could've happened that night, I couldn't extort from M. If I tried to mention it, she got serious and moved to another topic. Since then she has been avoiding Sylvie. She even calls me on the phone to ask me to pass her a message, even though we all sit in the same office space. We are still on good terms, but our relationship is nowhere near as close as it was.
I'm trying to prepare Miss Sylvie. Not a great experience. She's factory defective about show hosting talent. The interviewees don't interest her, nor does the topic. Maybe if an A-class celebrity bumps into her microphone. Then she tries to do her best, but even this is not enough of a motivation for her to actually prepare for it.

Maybe after the second trial interview, she started to edit too. When I explained to her why the conversation was worse than words can describe, she lunged at me that it was the interviewee's fault. I very gently tried to calm her down and put her back into work mode when she ran to B. A few hours later B. took a peek into the next conversation, grunted and hummed a few times and then he announced that for the real shootings we should prepare new topics and new guests. "We need a bigger boom here" - that's what he kept saying. What he meant by it, he never explained. "You know that well! You didn't start this business yesterday." Well, true, I did not. But Miss Sylvie did. Still, she over-edited the first show completely. If I didn't let her do something, she just ran straight to B. And after a while B. didn't even make the effort to come over and tell me the changes. He just simply sent a message via Sylvie. The bitch soon got the scheme and quickly she just started saying B. wants it so, B. wants it different. Well I didn't come off the shore today either. I knew it exactly that she referred to B. even when she has never talked to him about it. When she wanted me to do things I could not take up with my reputation, I turned to M. She listened to me, and then with a discreet face she only asked me to hang in there, the game is not over yet. I would love to enter against the dark side so I can speed things up a bit, after all it is ridiculous that with my years of experience I have to get a cramp in my stomach every time I have to sit down and prepare a completely talent-less, beginner show host. If I could, I would just throw the desk at her head... And then at B.'s.

Push-me-out

I remember the happy years together and I get ashamed.

M. is starting to get on my nerves. She got totally settled in Peter's thoughts. I can't talk with my husband for two minutes without him mentioning her: M. wants it so, M. said that, M. gave a hint on this... No, I don't think she's his mistress, at least not yet. I would feel that, men are horrible liars. But it still bothers me awfully that my husband is adoring another woman so undisguised, even if she's his boss.
Now I ask for the contract every single day. It would be just great to know for how much do I have to bear him coming home at night, keeping in touch with the kids via the message board on the fridge, and if we even talk a little bit every now and then, I have to argue with M. and her thoughts.
Finally I got him to sit down and talk about this with the owner, ask him when he will pay, and how much. B. shook him off however, saying that as long as they don't have a final budget, he can't say anything. He doesn't want to be a letdown if they will have to cut some of his salary too. Because they will need to reduce costs even further, that's sure. I don't know why would someone start a channel if they don't have the money for it...
Peter pulled in all ears and tails and didn't slam on B.'s desk, asking him to say at least a minimum money with what he can calculate. I asked him to talk to B. again, but he shut me up with saying that M. also promised that if he's not being impatient, she will help him get the best price for his bargain. I let a sarcastic sentence slip about how M.'s job should not just be to pile workloads onto him and keep him by her side day and night, but also to stand up for him when it's about his salary. Peter then said that it's only jealousy talking from me, and once again he took the old record off the shelf that I, on the other hand, was only promoted by John because he wants to bed me. I didn't let myself, I asked him, doesn't he think that M.'s sudden interest is based in her wanting to get screwed by him. He called me silly. M. needs his professional knowledge, nothing else. We went to bed angry again - and alone again.
In addition, our money is running out fast. For the news that Peter is starting to work again, we loosened the tightest strings a bit. I can't go to work in worn-down, old-fashioned stuff, and the kids have been tormenting me for a few new things for months. I don't even dare to think what happens if Peter's job doesn't start to pay soon...

I even started to think that we should maybe sell the house. Me and the kids can come out of my salary, and Peter can solve his life as he can. And then I remember the happy years together and I get ashamed. Not because of John. Even though, looking back now that night at the hotel was really nice. I finally felt like a woman again. And I didn't do anything I should be feeling bad about.

We didn't talk of all this when I met Sophie again. We went to the cafe, soon becoming our regular spot at Liszt Ferenc Square. She called me and asked me what do I know of M. Not much, and I told all that to her on the phone.
It was almost like having a date with her. We revived the past, we remained silent of the present, and even less we mentioned the future. She wanted to go, but finally she talked her children into sleeping over at their grandparents. We drank a bottle of wine, and we could even laugh at our old memories together.
I was thinking, maybe if we behaved a bit more mature back then, we would be happy now, both of us. But we didn't say a word of that either. We stayed until late at night, I took her home by cab. Peter wasn't at home yet. The "shoulder devil" was jumping up and down on me to say it, ask her to leave everything behind and run away, just me and her, but then I remained silent. We didn't arrange another meeting.

I'm trying to teach Miss Sylvie, to not much avail. We sit down aside every single day, but her cell phone keeps ringing, no matter how I ask her to turn it off, she always answers this one is super duper important, and chitchats for half hours as if I wasn't even there. After three calls or so, B. usually calls him, and they disappear for hours. M. notices the thing too, she asks me to go out and have dinner with her. She asks me straight away, why am I dealing so much with Sylvie lately. I fold out my cards, I tell her what we agreed in with B. She gets upset. I suddenly get it. M. is endlessly jealous of the gal. I'm just not quite sure whether it's because of B. or me.
After dinner, Sylvie turns to me with a sudden rush of interest. She tries to find out from me what M. wanted from me. I guess it's to report to B. Obviously, I won't betray M. I use her sudden rush of interest and I ask her if she has a contract yet. After long persuasion she admits she does. Putting all my chastity aside, I even ask her for how much. She tells me. My jaw drops. First I get upset, then I calm myself down, that if she can get so much as an intern, me, a seasoned editor will definitely make more.
Half an hour later I'm at B.'s office, asking him how can Sylvie have a contract already. First he tries to duck the question, and then he admits: first they agree with the show hosts. Sylvie? A show host? I'm flabbergasted. He says he sees great potential in her, he shoots some murky hints towards my contract in preparation, and asks me not to tell anyone yet that they mean Sylvie to be a host. That including M. Of course, my first trip goes to her. She gets really upset just now. She hisses that if Sylvie is going to be a show host, she's leaving. But first she will have a little talk with the other owners who promised her she can set up the final crew herself if the channel can kick off. But until then she has to cooperate with B. I feel like throwing up from this whole BS. quite frankly I would love to quit right today. But I can't do it, I can't be without a job. So I stay and hold my peace. I don't even say anything to Sophie. I don't want to hear her I-told-you-so's.