NOTE: This story is fiction intended for adults. Any resemblance between this story and real life is strictly coincidental. Except for the whole idea of what's been happening to local TV news. That's pretty much real.
Cathy threw the Nielsen ratings book onto her desk with a resounding 'slam'. She was disgusted. Here she was, general manager of a local television station, and her ratings were in the toilet. Nothing she'd done since she took over six months ago had made a difference. Not hiring away the newscasters from the top-rated station in the market, not beefing up the investigative reporting unit, not the clever marketing slogan she'd devised playing off the station's channel position on the dial. This called for more desperate measures.
She grinned mysteriously. The department heads were due in for their weekly meeting in a minute. Cathy's new idea would floor them. Were they ever in for a surprise!
Slowly, they filed in, mumbling their good mornings. Cathy nodded politely, her face betraying nothing of what was about to go on.
When everyone was in place, Cathy spoke.
"I'm not interested in hearing what each department has been up to," she began. "Not today. And I certainly don't want to hear everyone telling me how busy you've been! You've all seen the ratings. I don't give a shit what you've been busy at; obviously it's not ... fucking ... working."
They were a little surprised at Cathy's language.
"We're in fourth place during the newscast hours. Do you hear me? Fourth," she said, standing up and walking around the conference table. "That means that not only are the other three stations that run news beating us..." Cathy stopped significantly behind the news director. "But we even rank behind syndicated reruns of Suddenly Susan."
The news director opened his mouth to speak. Cathy cut him off. "Save it, Ron," she snapped. "I don't want to hear any goddamn excuses. The fact is, nobody wants to watch the news programs we're putting on."
Ron looked at the floor. He'd tried a more serious journalistic approach to the news — and it looked as though the viewers had rejected it. Every other department head — sales, programming, promotion, even engineering — either agreed with Cathy or was afraid to say otherwise.
"That's why we're trying a new approach, starting today," said Cathy, taking her seat at the head of the conference table again. "Sam! Ned! Come on in here!"
Two well-dressed young men in suits walked in.
"Sam and Ned are consultants. They represent a firm called Cummings and Associates." The men nodded politely at the assembled managers. "They've got a plan that'll make us number one. Tell 'em, boys."
One of the consultants cleared his throat and wiped his glasses before winding them round his ears and running nervous fingers through his light brown hair. "I'm Sam. Ned and I have a little research to show you."
Ned, a blond fellow with a mustache, powered up his laptop to begin a Power Point presentation. "This is how your newscasts — Channel 11's newscasts — do with women twenty-five to fifty-four. The other stations are beating you. Badly. So badly that we feel it's inefficient to continue to try to attract that audience. All the women are watching the other guys — so why bother?" said Ned.
"That's why we think Channel 11's best bet is sort of a niche marketing idea," continued Sam, signalling to Ned to proceed to the next graphic. "Since the female demographic clearly prefers the other stations — why not go after the men? All the men? If you could get every man, young and old, in the metro area to watch your news, that'd be a big enough number to make you number one!"
"How, you might ask?" picked up Ned. "Chucking everything that appeals to the female audience. Health stories, parenting reports, consumer news..."
"And taking a cue from international hit shows like Baywatch and V.I.P," said Sam, as the laptop projected a photo of Pamela Anderson. "Perennial pay-per-view favorites like the Bikini Open," said Ned, clicking to another pertinent illustration. "And the phenomenal success stories of web sites like Danni's Hard Drive," continued Sam, the laptop displaying a topless photo of busty model and entrepreneur Danni Ashe. The shock of her nudity certainly got the group's attention.
Ned stepped forward. "We plan to slowly phase out all the male newscasters and reporters on Channel 11," he explained, "replacing them with well-endowed women." He set an animation going that showed a mockup of their news set with Pamela, Danni, and Cindy Margolis popping into the anchor chairs — just by way of illustration. "The best part is that it fits in with Cathy's slogan — the one that plays on your channel position? Cathy, remind them."
Cathy grinned from ear to ear. "Watch The Big Ones," she said softly.
"The Big Ones, yes," said the persuasive Sam. Ned clicked on a photo of an enormous pair of boobs, crammed into a too-tight T-shirt, with the slogan superimposed over them. "Two ones make an eleven, but with this change in the on-air talent lineup — it'll take on new meaning! What do you think?"
"Ladies and gentlemen?" said Cathy, looking around.
Ron the news director stood. "This has nothing to do with good journalism," he began.
"No, it doesn't," snapped Cathy. "Get over it."
"But ... Channel 11's credibility..." stammered Ron.
"You can't sell credibility," said Cathy.
"But ... this is just window dressing! Cosmetics!" said Ron.
"Oh, hell," said Cathy, losing patience. "No — it's window undressing. And cosmetic surgery. If you won't do it, leave. We're going forward with this plan."
Without a word, Ron got up and left the conference room.
"I expected that," said Cathy, addressing the consultants, Sam and Ned. "No matter. We'll go ahead without them. I'll tell the men on-air they're out. I'll make up something about going in a different direction ... or we're holding you back! Some bullshit like that. I'll need Sam and Ned here to start looking for new talent. You know, if any of the girls we've got on the news right now want to stay and get boob jobs, they're welcome. Go to work!"
"Uh ... Cathy?" said the sales manager, a burly, bearded fellow.
"Yes?" said Cathy.
"The guys might want to check out ... uh, interview my sales assistant," he said shyly.
"Missy! Perfect!" shouted Cathy. "She's got huge boobs," she said to the two men. "We could make her a weather forecaster. When her nipples are erect, it's cold out! Great idea. Let's go!"
-----------------------------------------
Sam and Ned stepped out of the conference room.
"Went pretty well, don't you think?" said a confident Sam.
"I ... I guess so," said Ned, nervously. "Do you think they're on to us?"
"Ned, I've told you a thousand times, you don't need any credentials to be a consultant," said Sam, straightening his partner's tie. "It's not like being a psychaitrist or something. If we say we're consultants — we are!"
"Yeah, but I'm afraid they'll figure out we've never done this before," stammered Ned. "That we've got no studies, no data, no track record ... and that we're just a couple of horny guys with a Power Point presentation, looking to get laid!"
"Snap out of it," said Sam. "If it works, nobody cares! You go talk to that Missy — the sales guy's secretary. I'll scope out the gals on the news staff, and see if any of 'em have big funbags already. If not, I'll find out if any of 'em will get boob jobs in order to keep their jobs!" he snickered.
"Well — okay," said Ned. "Good luck."
"You, too, pal," said Sam. "I can tell this sales guy's never been able to get into this secretary's pants. I'll bet you have better luck!"
