away. You should have seen her, Jane. She was bawling after she saw the video piece. You showed her who she really is.”
“She cried?” My stomach dropped another notch.
“Oh, yeah. Then Mr. Dean gave it to her. He told her what an awful mother she was. I swear, she couldn’t speak for all the tears. It was embarrassing. Then he had her son, Oliver, on stage, and asked him what he thought of his mom smacking him. The kid just bawled. Then Mr. Dean brought Brenda back on stage so she could see what she was doing to her son. It was bru. . . tal!”
My face tensed, cringing from the torment we’d unleashed on this poor woman.
“And now she’s really pissed. She had to take two days off work to come here to be on the show. They kept changing the show date on her, so she was stuck sitting in the hotel. Apparently she missed three days of work, which really upset her boss, who thought she’d miss only two. And she thought she’d be compensated. By us! Ha!” He smirked.
I was enraged. “That woman is broke! She gets one dollar over minimum wage and she’s supporting a family! How could we do that to her?”
“That’s not the worst of it.”
“What?” I said, not sure I could take it, as I racked my brain thinking how I could possibly make things up to her.
“She filed a complaint with the studio. Not that it’ll do her any good.”
“Really?”
“She said the show ruined her life: bullied in front of millions, humiliated, in front of her friends, family, work colleagues, the nation, and got nothing for it. No guidance, no help, nothing to set her on track. Oh, she also claims her son Oliver is stomping around the house like he’s king. He mouths off, saying, ‘Mr. Dean says you’re a bad mom,’ and Mr. Dean says this and Mr. Dean says that, and ‘I don’t have to listen to you.’ Can you believe her nerve?”
“This is outrageous!” I said, my veins pulsing. “That son of a bitch needs to help her, not slaughter her!”
“Whoa! You could get fired for saying that,” Jones whispered, his eyes darting around fearfully, as if spies lurked everywhere.
“I’ll take my chances,” I said and walked away in disgust.
It was ironic. The entire staff had not only been scared into submission, but it was totally dysfunctional, while working on a show about making people emotionally healthy. And not just any show—a show that had come to be adored. Ratings were through the roof. Mr. Dean was on the cover of countless magazines. There was Emmy buzz.
But in the flurry of our producing lives, we. . . the show. . . had become a lie. Was it possible I was the only one who saw it? No matter what our initial intentions had been, we weren’t healing our guests. In fact, what we did was the same as what the rest of the shows in TV Land did: entertain. And that was all. Ricky Dean’s words didn’t mend, they amused. He didn’t manufacture healthy lives—he manufactured stories. And the audience bought it, like a McDonald’s Happy Meal. We were the McNugget meal of self-help—empty calories, satisfying only when consumed. An hour later, you have a tummy ache, like Brenda, sick, horrified, and regretting every minute of it.
I suddenly felt dirty. The kind of dirty no shower could cure. This scrubbing needed to start on the inside.
Producers began crowding into the boardroom for the 9:30 meeting. We were packed in like cattle, lining the walls and doubling up on chairs. Meg entered and looked around the room with a sneer.
“Guess the gang’s all here. I’m going to have to order a bigger board room,” she said haughtily, “or lay off a few of you.”
Corinne jumped from her seat, handing Meg her chair, then leaned against the wall behind her, utterly proud of herself.
“Listen, I know you’ve all been working long hours. And I thank you for that.” Meg spoke with a crisp edge. There was no warmth or sincere appreciation in her voice. “This is a tough start-up. But I want you to know it’s paying off. We’re up in the ratings again!”
Everyone clapped.
“That’s the good news.” Her face changed to a scowl. “The bad news is there’s been lots of complaining going on and some leaks.”
She was referring to the tabloids. The Star had just run a story on the show’s behind-the-scenes activities. It was entirely accurate,