approaching dislike. She couldn’t imagine Roxie ever clinging on to a pile of old letters or a single broken earring because they had been given to her by a long-gone lover. You couldn’t de-junk anyone’s life without having some vague understanding of what made people tick. Memorabilia was precious, and laughing at a person’s precious things was plain cruel. Therapy by scalpel.
Roxie wasn’t finished yet. She hit “play” and the show started again. Abby began to write down what she didn’t like about it.
Too hard on the people involved.
Very unsympathetic.
Difficult to get new guests once they’d seen the trauma caused.
She glanced at Stan, Brian and Flora, assuming they would agree with her. But the three of them were watching the show intensely and Flora was twirling her long black plait obsessively, her face rapt.
“That’s the way to bigger ratings,” said Roxie. “Not that I’m criticising what you’ve done up to now, but we’ve got to ratchet it up another level. Seventy percent of TV shows have just two seasons in them, apart from the really successful concept quiz shows. We want to be in the winning thirty percent with a show that runs and runs. Our new series is make-or-break time for us. We need to freshen it up.”
Abby sat rigidly in her chair, waiting for someone else to speak, to say, “No, that’s not what Declutter is about.”
But they were all nodding thoughtfully.
Abby felt the blood rush to her head. She never lost her temper at work but she felt perilously close to doing so now. They couldn’t possibly expect her to become such a TV bitch. She couldn’t do it—she wouldn’t do it.
“I can’t behave like that, I can’t,” she said fervently, standing up and staring at the three people round the table she thought were on her side. “People trust me; they know I’ve got their best interests at heart and that I want to help them simplify their lives. That’s what the show is about—helping people move on, not destroying them or laughing at them.” This show was her baby; she’d made it what it was. She’d walk if they wanted to ruin it. “I’d leave before I’d act like a bitch to people.”
“Abby, we understand that,” said Roxie silkily. “Part of your charm is how gentle and kind you are.”
Abby grimaced. Roxie made kindness sound as much of an asset as herpes.
“There’s no question of you leaving,” insisted Brian. “You are Declutter, Abby.”
“You make people feel warm and fuzzy inside, that’s great,” added Roxie, “but we have to move on. We need a harder edge. Someone with a harder edge.”
As quickly as it had come, Abby’s anger departed and she stared stricken at Roxie.
“My plan is to recruit one or two new presenters to work alongside you, Abby. You’ll be the host, of course, but we need fresh faces. I’m thinking young, maybe a male÷female team,” she said, addressing Stan and Flora now. “Abby will be the host and do the main links as well as being the primary dejunker, but we’ll have the added interest of two new people. We could do a whole house per show with more people. And,” she ended triumphantly, “this is the biggest change, make the show an hour long. The advertisers would love us.”
She didn’t need to tell all of this to Brian, realised Abby with a sinking feeling. He was sitting back in his chair, watching his team’s reactions. He knew in advance what Roxie was talking about and he clearly agreed with her.
“Think about it,” Roxie continued. “We’ll be broadening the appeal of the show, we’ll be able to get some chemistry going with the two new leads, and we’ll have more airtime plus more advertising revenue. Think of three ad breaks instead of just one.”
Abby felt like Coyote watching the huge rock fall on his head while Road Runner whooped happily in the distance. She wouldn’t do bitchy, so they would find people who did—she’d walked right into the trap.
“I don’t
Roxie wasn’t finished yet. She hit “play” and the show started again. Abby began to write down what she didn’t like about it.
Too hard on the people involved.
Very unsympathetic.
Difficult to get new guests once they’d seen the trauma caused.
She glanced at Stan, Brian and Flora, assuming they would agree with her. But the three of them were watching the show intensely and Flora was twirling her long black plait obsessively, her face rapt.
“That’s the way to bigger ratings,” said Roxie. “Not that I’m criticising what you’ve done up to now, but we’ve got to ratchet it up another level. Seventy percent of TV shows have just two seasons in them, apart from the really successful concept quiz shows. We want to be in the winning thirty percent with a show that runs and runs. Our new series is make-or-break time for us. We need to freshen it up.”
Abby sat rigidly in her chair, waiting for someone else to speak, to say, “No, that’s not what Declutter is about.”
But they were all nodding thoughtfully.
Abby felt the blood rush to her head. She never lost her temper at work but she felt perilously close to doing so now. They couldn’t possibly expect her to become such a TV bitch. She couldn’t do it—she wouldn’t do it.
“I can’t behave like that, I can’t,” she said fervently, standing up and staring at the three people round the table she thought were on her side. “People trust me; they know I’ve got their best interests at heart and that I want to help them simplify their lives. That’s what the show is about—helping people move on, not destroying them or laughing at them.” This show was her baby; she’d made it what it was. She’d walk if they wanted to ruin it. “I’d leave before I’d act like a bitch to people.”
“Abby, we understand that,” said Roxie silkily. “Part of your charm is how gentle and kind you are.”
Abby grimaced. Roxie made kindness sound as much of an asset as herpes.
“There’s no question of you leaving,” insisted Brian. “You are Declutter, Abby.”
“You make people feel warm and fuzzy inside, that’s great,” added Roxie, “but we have to move on. We need a harder edge. Someone with a harder edge.”
As quickly as it had come, Abby’s anger departed and she stared stricken at Roxie.
“My plan is to recruit one or two new presenters to work alongside you, Abby. You’ll be the host, of course, but we need fresh faces. I’m thinking young, maybe a male÷female team,” she said, addressing Stan and Flora now. “Abby will be the host and do the main links as well as being the primary dejunker, but we’ll have the added interest of two new people. We could do a whole house per show with more people. And,” she ended triumphantly, “this is the biggest change, make the show an hour long. The advertisers would love us.”
She didn’t need to tell all of this to Brian, realised Abby with a sinking feeling. He was sitting back in his chair, watching his team’s reactions. He knew in advance what Roxie was talking about and he clearly agreed with her.
“Think about it,” Roxie continued. “We’ll be broadening the appeal of the show, we’ll be able to get some chemistry going with the two new leads, and we’ll have more airtime plus more advertising revenue. Think of three ad breaks instead of just one.”
Abby felt like Coyote watching the huge rock fall on his head while Road Runner whooped happily in the distance. She wouldn’t do bitchy, so they would find people who did—she’d walked right into the trap.
“I don’t
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