By the time Ian got to the penthouse conference room, Simon Kent was in full bloom. He had the attention of as many as he could get. He spouted tidbits of information and encouragement like a human “Twitter”.
“And the fall campaign Crawford came up with.” He put his hand to his heart and “swooned”. “It’s so adorable. I heart HRT. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Trent Rockford, one of the other development execs, rolled his eyes. “Ever read a bumper sticker, Simon?”
Kent shot him a questionable look. “Don’t be ridiculous. No one with any intelligence reads that garbage. The only people more foolish than the ones who plaster their vehicles with that offensive trash are the morons who get drunk, write it and sell it from their cardboard boxes.”
Rockford laughed to himself and shook his head. Ian smiled and began to stack his sheathed mockups on an easel that was in the corner.
Kent leaned over to his assistant. “Look, Justyn is getting ready for show and tell.” The assistant tittered with him. They began whispering back and forth to each other, stopping only when David Turner entered the room heading for the leather chair at the end of the table.
Denver Metcalfe patted Ian on the back and went up, taking the first seat immediately to Turner’s right. Turner was nodding hello, shaking hands and looking around the room. When he caught Ian’s eye, he nodded and winked.
Ian knew that meant Turner felt he’d managed to keep any information from getting to Kent. Ian subtly nodded and took his seat beside Wella toward the end of the table.
“Looks like everyone here. Shall we begin?” Turner said.
Simon Kent smiled. “Shouldn’t we wait for Jack?”
Turner smiled. “He won’t be with us today, Simon. We’ll proceed without him.”
Kent pushed his chair from the table and began to push his ample round frame up. “As senior executive, I’ll be happy to moderate in his behalf.”
“Not necessary, Kent.” Turner stopped him in mid-stand. “As president of this company since it’s founding, I think I can handle that.”
The smile left Kent’s face. “Of course.” He realized he was half standing, half sitting and eased himself back down. “By all means.”
“For those of you that haven’t heard via the grapevine, as of today Jack Tolan is no longer with us. He has decided to take his retirement effective immediately.”
“Oh…” Kent graced the room with a “heartfelt” sigh oblivious only to the pigeon that left his calling card on the window behind him.
“Briefly, the board and I have decided on some restructuring, starting with his position. Until we decide upon his successor and exactly how that position fits into our restructure, I will be assuming all of his duties.”
“I assume that you will be naming his successor soon.” Even Kent was embarrassed that slipped out of his mouth.
“No.” Turner informed the room to Kent’s chagrin. “At this point we don’t feel the need to do so. It is more important that we implement the restructuring before offering a contracted position whose responsibilities may vary drastically in the coming months.”
Metcalf spoke up. “May I also add, that with the excitement being created for the fall season and our concentration over the summer being building upon that, the board feels it is the only focus necessary. We have several candidates in mind, both in and out of our corporate structure.”
Turner nodded. “We will concentrate on building the best fall line up we have had in years, while continuing to observe the candidates, taking our time to make the right choice for a VP who can best help steer us in the direction we feel the network and the company needs to go as a whole. That said let’s get down to business…”
The first hour was a tedious rundown from each department, followed by a small break. David Turner then went over what had already been decided, what shows they were canceling, and went over the decisions already made to fill the holes.
A whopping ten hours of programming needed to be filled. HRT was at the bottom of the heap for the third year in a row, drastic measures had to be taken and everyone was stepping up to bat. Virtually every night would have a change. Eight of the ten hours had been filed. The pilots that still hadn’t been ruled out, had all been reviewed again. All that was left was to decided what to schedule and where to schedule it.
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