How to Get Ahead in Television (3 page)

STEP 5 – ALWAYS BE PROFESSIONAL

‘P
OPPY, DEAR, THERE'S
a Damian on the phone for you,' my mother shouted up the stairs.

Damian is one of my best friends from Bristol, currently travelling around Brazil planting rainforests for some charity called ‘Free the Trees'.

‘Okay, I'll get it!' I picked up the upstairs receiver, excited that Damian had taken the time to call me from abroad; it must have been one in the morning in Brazil.

‘Damiannnooooo! How the hell are you? Saved the bloody world yet?'

‘Hello, Poppy, it's Dominic Green here.'

Dominic Green? Bloody mother!

‘I haven't saved the world yet, I'm afraid. Was I supposed to?' Dominic asked.

‘No, god, sorry, I thought you were someone else. Sorry, Dominic. Hi, um, how are you?' I tried to regain a professional tone.

‘We'd like to offer you the runner placement if you still want it?'

‘WHAT?' They were giving me the job? How on earth did that happen?

‘I'll take that as a yes?' said Dominic.

‘YES! Yes, oh thanks so much, you won't regret it, definitely… yes.' I forced myself to stop speaking for fear of an instant retraction.

‘So can you start on Monday?'

‘Can I!'

‘Can you?'

‘Yes, yes, I can.'

Dominic didn't say anything.

‘Sorry, that was more of a rhetorical “Can I?” that I just did there,' I explained.

‘Well, I'll email you the details and we'll see you at nine a.m. on Monday.'

‘Fantastic!'

‘And Poppy, you won't answer the phones at RealiTV with “How the hell are you, have you saved the bloody world yet?”, will you?'

‘No. No, I definitely won't do that.'

Dominic hung up and I ran downstairs to the kitchen, where my mother was ironing Dad's underwear.

‘Mum, I got the job!'

‘At Lloyds?' my mother asked. ‘Oh, I am pleased. I knew Ian would sort you out.'

‘No, not with Lloyds, Mum – the runner job at the TV company! By the way, Mum, you really have to be better at listening to who's on the phone. You told me that was my friend Damian when it was actually Dominic about the TV job and it was really embarrassing.'

‘What kind of name is Dominic?' My mother wrinkled her nose in disgust.

‘That's not the point. It doesn't matter what his name is; just try and listen properly in future.'

‘Sounds like a game of dominoes or something. So is he enjoying his travels?'

‘Who?'

‘Dominic.'

‘No, no, that's Damian. Damian is my friend who's travelling, Dominic is the man at the TV company.'

I sat down at the kitchen table, exasperated. Sometimes, talking to my mother was like having a conversation with somebody on a five-second delay, in a wind tunnel.

‘Well, it all sounds very confusing.' My mother shook her head.

‘So they want me to start next week, isn't that great!'

‘Up in London?'

‘Yes, up in London – the job's in Soho.'

‘Oh well, that's good, dear. Well done, Poppy, all your perseverance paying off at last. Maybe you could meet up with Ian while you're there?'

STEP 6 – DON'T BE AFRAID OF SOME HEALTHY COMPETITION

W
HAT TO WEAR
for my first day at work? I wasn't going to make the mistake of dressing like an accountant again but, equally, I did want to look professional. I opted for smart black jeans, black cowboy boots and a pretty white shirt: smart – but low-key.

I was staying at Natalie's parents' house in Greenwich until I could find somewhere more permanent to live, so it was a long commute into town. Walking from Oxford Circus to Soho Square, I bought myself a cappucino and a chocolate croissant from Pret a Manger. I felt like an imposter, playing at being a real Londoner. I wondered if people on the street could tell I had never done this before, that it was my first day.

I buzzed the entry phone at RealiTV, heard a muffled voice and leant on the door to speak, just as someone opened it for me. I lunged forward and poured the remains of my coffee all down my white shirt.

‘Whoops!' The man standing the other side of the door smiled.

‘Gah!' I screamed.

‘Not a good look,' he laughed.

I looked up to see a gorgeous blond man grinning down at me. He was over six foot with broad shoulders, a light tan and sparkling, mischievous green eyes. The shock of the hot coffee
on my chest and being suddenly confronted with someone so imposingly attractive made my cheeks flush scarlet.

‘Why are you laughing?' I glared at him, trying to hide my embarrassment.

‘I'm sorry, it was quite funny. I kind of saw it all happening in slow motion. Here, let me help you.'

He reached out to take my half-eaten croissant and handbag.

‘No, it's fine. I'm okay, thank you.'

I charged past him, turning from scarlet to a darker shade of puce, and marched through reception to the disabled bathroom.

The shirt was a wreck. I took it off and tried to wash it in the sink, then spent ten minutes trying to dry it under the hand dryer. I was now officially late. Back in reception, my shirt still rather beige and damp, the sultry platinum-blonde receptionist wordlessly pointed towards a meeting room to her left.

In the meeting room, Dominic Green was talking to a small group of people: a short brunette girl wearing DM boots with a nose piercing, a balding man in his forties wearing a
Jaws
T-shirt, and the blond guy from the coffee incident.

‘Ah, Poppy, better late than never,' Dominic said, raising an eyebrow at me.

‘Sorry, sorry, I had a coffee-related drama.'

The blond guy gave me a subtle thumbs-up, as if to say, ‘Well done, you totally managed to get that stain out of your shirt'.

‘Let me introduce you,' Dominic said. ‘This is Helen, she heads up the post room. She'll show you the ropes and get you sorted out with IT.'

The short brunette girl gave me a friendly wave.

‘She's from Yorkshire, so if you have trouble understanding all her by 'ecks and by gums, just plug her into Google Translate.'

‘Funny.' Helen sighed.

‘This is David, our permanent runner.' Dominic indicated
Jaws
T-shirt guy, who gave me a
Star Trek
salute. ‘And this is Rhidian, who's starting on the runner placement today too.'

Blond guy. Great.

‘Hi,' Rhidian said, getting up to shake my hand.

‘We'll put you both in the post room for the first couple of weeks, while you get your bearings, then you'll be farmed out to various productions that need an extra pair of hands. Helen will tell you the rest as I've got to go. Any problems you have, don't come to me, work it out for yourselves.'

Dominic started to leave, then added, ‘Obviously I'm joking. You can, of course, come to me if you absolutely have to. But I would think more highly of you if you didn't.'

Dominic left the meeting room and I realized I hadn't even sat down yet.

‘Is he always like that?' Rhidian asked the others.

‘Yup,' said Helen. ‘He's a funny ol' fish is Dominic.'

‘Sorry I was late,' I said.

‘Do you like movies?' David asked me with an intense stare.

‘Me? Yes, sure, who doesn't like movies?' I shrugged.

David looked at me as though I'd just stepped on his pet cat. ‘A lot of people
say
they like movies, but they don't really
know
about movies,' he said, unblinking.

‘Rule one of working 'ere,' said Helen, ‘don't talk to David 'bout movies.'

David looked dejected.

‘So you're Poppy Penfold then?' said Rhidian. ‘I saw that on an email and wondered if that could be a real name. Is it a stage name?'

‘No, it is not a stage name. Do I look like I'm on the stage?' I said crossly.

‘So your parents really thought it was a good idea to call you Poppy Penfold?' He smiled.

‘This coming from a guy called Rhidian?'

‘That is true. It's not often I have the upper hand in the silly name game, so I have to play an opening when I see one.' He grinned again.

‘Oh great.' Helen sighed.

‘What?' I asked.

‘I 'ate it when the new runners fancy each other. The post room is way too small to deal wi' any kind o' soap opera.'

David laughed, I blushed, and Rhidian and I both spoke over each other to protest she couldn't be further from the truth.

‘Don't worry, I'm just messin' wi' you. Come on,' Helen said, leading us back to reception and through to the post room.

The post room turned out to be an office not much bigger than an ant's nostril. It had two desks, wall-to-ceiling pigeonholes and a hatch out onto the street for deliveries.

‘There are only two desks?' I said. ‘But there are four of us?'

‘No shit, Sherlockina Holmes,' said David, rolling his eyes at me.

‘Yeah, you won't be doing a lot o' sittin' down,' said Helen. ‘Basically, whoever's in 'ere can jump on a computer, check emails 'n' look after post, but most o' time you'll be out on errands or on a production. We've just gotta make sure we never leave post room empty after nine-thirty. There's always got to be one o' us in 'ere, so if someone calls for you to do somethin', don't leave till someone else comes back, all right?'

‘Makes sense,' Rhidian said, looking around the room and inspecting the names on the pigeonholes.

‘So you're on the runner placement too, then?' I asked, attempting to make normal conversation with Rhidian after the embarrassment of earlier.

‘Indeed I am, Poppy, and may I just take a moment to say now: may the best man win.'

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
: <
[email protected]
>

FROM
: <
[email protected]
>

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, you 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.'