More business, more adspeak, more fun.
The Missing Nigel affair soon receded into an unexplained backdrop to their lives, like most people you’d rather ignore. Alan, the private detective, said that the police were interested, because they didn’t think Nigel was important enough to be a missing person. There was no news whatsoever from David or anyone else about the US situation, which was really a bit of a blessing. Apparently everyone was seeing their lawyers, so some sort of normalcy had crept in.
There were more interesting things happening. Al and Bill were having a dispute about a reality TV show that they’d been offered some work on, inserting the innumerable plugs for sponsors. The money was potentially great, as were the contacts. Al wasn’t keen. Bill was largely interested in the contacts, rather than the work, which he agreed with Al was kindergarten stuff at best. Joe, the silent partner, was living up to his role. He raised an eyebrow when the deal was explained and listened. Carla and Felicity were both allergic to reality TV, like most people who can read, and had said unequivocally that they couldn’t care less if they did it or not.
The show involved sealing off a block of flats and setting people against each other in various ways, hitting them with skill tests and competitive roles. Almost infant level, although most two year olds have more self respect than that. As a departure from the norm, these were real people who actually did live in the block. Pure middle class demographic, a few almost-attractive women, and a guy who looked like he might once have had a sense of humor, before he did the media course. The sponsors were just about everyone who had ever been anywhere near a domestic product. A true cash cow of epic dimensions.
This was also a case in which their friendly TV, guy, Arthur, had come across with his contacts. That was the other reason Bill didn’t want to knock it back. You don’t get intros like that every day, and it might be a bit offensive. Al had to agree with that part of Bill’s thinking, although he suspected that they’d been contacted because their rates were probably super competitive compared to the other agencies. That matters on big budgets. Money evaporates if you don’t watch costs. HA Advertising was by now a true cutthroat, and it was unlikely that they were being asked to do it on pure artistic merit. He was far from comfortable with the idea. The plugs were likely to be tacky, and getting non-actors to act is always a potentially lethal proposition.
Bill loathed reality TV with a true passion. He thought it was the cultural equivalent of a random colonic, and about as interesting. On the other hand it was big money, seven figures plus copyrights, and tremendous exposure for the agency in the big time. His business sense said do it. He was aware of the rates position, and thought that if the others couldn’t compete with them, they were losers, and deserved to be losers.
An interesting situation had arisen in that the sponsors, who all had their own ad agencies, were obliged to depart from their normal ads to do this show. It’s quite common that reality TV simply plugs away on the sponsors’ products ad nauseam, but in this case it was going to be tailored to fit within the framework of the show. The content of the show is the property of the production company, and thus it becomes a shared copyright, unless an equity deal is created to define who owns what. So an equity deal had to be in place to do that. That was where some real earnings potential came in.
It also involved a lot of work. For that million, about half, easily, would be eaten up in production. That involved some real efficiency. Some of the work would have to be done externally on location, and that added to cost. There were 23 shows, three solid 24/7 day weeks, and the intro and the final show. All high intensity, and every single cut put to air would have to be loaded with sponsor content. Every shot had to have somebody’s product in it. If that sounds sickening, consider how the people who have to do the production feel about it.
Joe wasn’t at all impressed with that part of the idea. He said it was too easy, and all anyone would ever need to worry about was whether their product was center screen or not, and for how long. Felicity said that any mention of a product would need to be lively, and interesting, like playing games with the baked beans, or something equally thrilling, and able to keep the ten year olds awake. They both agreed that the problem wasn’t content, it was the amount of content. There would be literally hundreds of hours of it.
Al was actually pleased they were disagreeing with him. Everything they’d said was strictly correct in the business sense. Theirs not to reason why, theirs but to advertise or cry. His real reason for not enthusing was that every instinct in him told him this was going to be a flop of gigantic proportions. It was too complex, and it was a very weak concept. There were too many human variables in the block. Even professional entertainers don’t do it on a round the clock basis. He didn’t want the agency associated with a bomb.
“Tell you what. Come along to the pre-production meeting, and I’ll show you what I mean. Just for the record, everything you’ve all said is perfectly correct, as business. There’s another thing that you need to know; success is the only yardstick you get judged by in this business.”
They arrived at the Eight Network head office a couple of days later. Arthur met them, and introduced them to the network CEO and the heavies from the sponsors. Bill noticed that a representative of the network owner, whom he’d described to Al as one of Australian TV’s larger carnivores, was also there, sitting quietly near the front of the room. The producers, Ad Astra Productions, arrived in a loud herd and filled the back of the room. Their CEO, a person called Harry, trooped up to the podium. Al’s first reaction was “Euro Trash” and nothing Harry had to say changed that opinion.
“We’re very excited to bring you the newest concept in reality TV…….” Things got a lot worse from there. As part of the sales spiel, a slightly frayed looking[1] marketing psychologist, which is a synonym for a psycho-hack with severe character defects and a chronic lack of substance, made a pitch to the sponsors. He emphasized the need to keep products in the public eye, and ensure that the family values and youth orientation were the major priorities of the show. Smarm, really; groveling to the audience. The block of flats was chosen as a good representation of the Australian market, and even had a few ethnic people in it…. That went on for an hour or so until lunch. Carla thought it sounded like every political speech she’d ever heard in the last twenty years.
Al had been circulating among the sponsors’ reps, with Bill hovering near enough to hear the conversations. Joe and Carla were talking to the network people, and Felicity was tracking the marketing psychologist, for which ordeal Al had promised she would receive a bonus in her next pay.
“I think it’s great exposure,” said the Kleinz rep, “it’s not often you can get a can of beans into the public eye without people just turning off on you.”
“Yeah, same with beer. Who thinks of beer in a family context?”
Al was grimly satisfied to see Bill wince when he heard that.
“I’ve been told our bathroom products are going to get a good look in.”
“We’ve got some of our kitchens in the flats…although some of them are the old ones.”
“We have a fridge in every flat. They can’t miss us.”
“We got a lounge suite in Number 12, an entertainment unit in Number 14, a patio setting in Number 7, and a dining suite in Number 2. Talk about exposure…….”
Bill’s pained look had intensified to the point that Al took him outside.
“You knew this was going to happen,” said Bill, feeling like a kid who’s just realized skateboards have a down side.
“Yep. If you want a definition of half ass, this would be it. In a lot of ads you see more than one product advertised; but if you lose ‘em all in the crowd……?”
Carla and Joe had been listening to the TV production crews. They hadn’t needed to introduce themselves to anyone.
“It’s bloody 600 continuous angles. Every camera has to be downloaded every three days, or it wipes itself and records over the top of the old stuff. Think of the memory that uses up. Where are we gonna put the monitors? If this were Ben Hur, the crew would outnumber the cast.”
[1] They look like that because they’re expected to look a bit weird. It’s actually erosion.