Page 20 of Good Days Bad Days
But even with those frustrations, the half hour I spend in the clean and inviting world Betty creates makes me happier than I’ve felt in a long time. The set looks exactly how Hollinger presented it to us. Rows of high-end vinyl cabinets, sparkling laminate countertops, a brand-new GE appliance tucked into every useful-looking cranny. I can’t help but wish my childhood home looked similar, that I could pull up a stool to a bleached countertop and enjoy a warm chocolate chip cookie made out of love for me.
Perhaps that’s what’s being sold here, why the sponsors are so greedy for airtime and so willing to invest their dollars. It’s a fantasy. It’s afantasy everyone thinks is accessible but is really just out of reach. If they only found the right detergent or newfangled appliance or “a color that really brings out their eyes,” then they might find their own version of this domestic heaven. I get it. But I’m not sure I believe it. And I definitely don’t trust it.
Martha is at my side before I’ve finished shutting down my TK-42 four-tube camera and pulling the shot list. She’s holding a yellow “missed call” slip.
“Well, it looks like Alderman Grant canceled for tonight. The St. John’s children’s choir can do three songs instead of two. But we need some substance in tonight’s show—something political would be best. Something that really gets the mind turning, you know? Larry shines in those circumstances.”
I remove my headphones and flip off the speaker that connects us to the control room. No one else needs to be in on this discussion. We have some version of it every week. We need more content. We need something that really will make viewers tune in. We need. We need. We need. But we don’t have. How do we acquire the talent we need? How do we get people to tune in when our advertising budget is the lowest of all the programs on WQRX? Martha is reluctant to raise the white flag, and I’m willing to do whatever I can to support her.
“I think Mark is in Knights of Columbus with the comptroller,” I offer.
“Comptroller? Oh, my Lord, Greg. We’re trying to get more viewers, not offer a new sleep aid.”
“A segment on natural sleeping aids doesn’t sound too terrible,” Betty says, meeting Martha and me next to the camera.
Martha, dressed in a forest-green blouse and brown skirt, bristles. She has no reason to actively dislike Betty; the charismatic TV host has done nothing wrong. She’s never been rude or diva-like in her time here onThe Classy Homemaker. But something definitely irritates Martha about Betty, and there’s something somewhat needy about Betty’s desire to be respected and liked by her female boss.
Whenever Martha grows cold, I try to compensate. As a result, my friendship with Betty has grown over the past few weeks. I still consider her the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, and every time I see her, it takes effort to straighten my thoughts and not act like a bumbling schoolboy.
I’ve learned she’s funny. She’ll blurt out a joke during rehearsal that sends the whole crew into laughter. She’s not as worldly as Martha, who always has at least two books in her satchel. I rarely see the same one twice because she reads them so fast. But Betty is quick witted, learns nearly instantaneously, and adapts seamlessly.
I keep thinking she won’t be here long. She’s not a small-town girl. She’s one of those rare people you’re certain one day you’ll point to and say, “I knew her when.” I could say the same thing about Martha.
Unlike the two women I work with, I have no idea what my own future holds. Possibly a family and some of the domesticity shown on this stage kitchen every day. Sure wouldn’t mind that.
No, it’s fake,I remind myself. Falling for my own fantasy, now wouldn’t that be wild?
Martha brings me back to reality, saying sarcastically, “Oh, yes. Natural sleep aids. Like some of ‘mother’s little helper’?” Then she refocuses on me, picking up our conversation where we left off. “Let’s meet after this. Ike’s? We might have to go with the comptroller.”
“Yeah. For sure,” I agree, even though I already had my lunch. I won’t be eating anyway, stress ruining my appetite.
Martha stomps off in a hurry, stopping the sound engineer and having a lively conversation. Betty unties her apron, pulls it around her styled hair, and drapes it carefully over her arm.
“My goodness, that seems stressful,” she says with an empathetic smile.
“You know how it goes.”
And she does, in fact, know. Betty’s started to pitch her own ideas for segments and has helped us plan and brainstorm others during our weekly production meetings. It’s not producing, but her job isn’t thesame as an anchor like Larry, hosting the nightly news, reading off cue cards he’s never seen before. Betty has opinions. She has something to say. She’s an active part of the team, even if it drives Martha crazy.
“I don’t know, what you two do seems impossible to me. I feel nice and safe here behind my little kitchen counter. I could never do what you do.” So many “I could nevers” come out of Betty’s mouth on a regular basis. I think it’s another reason Martha finds her irritating. ClearlyThe Classy Homemakerhost is fully capable of every single “never” she proclaims.
After our first production meeting where Betty presented a fully illustrated and scripted proposal, Martha said to me, “It’s like she thinks if she says she’s good at something it will intimidate the men in charge. It’s the pussyfooting way women have been taught to weasel into any position of power. I hate it.” And I get why it bothers her. It’s definitely not one of Betty’s stronger traits, though I have to imagine she has a reason for her approach. Martha’s willing to make waves; Betty tries to ride them out.
I reassure Betty. “I think you’re doing fine at your own job. The ratings are—”
“Looking all right. I know. It’s what Don keeps saying. And I appreciate it, but ...” She stares at the stage and then back at me and then at the tips of her polished black shoes. “I feel like I keep upsetting Martha.”
This is the first I’ve heard of any dissatisfaction from the star of our show, and the fact that it’s because of Martha is fair, though unexpected. I stop fussing with the camera’s power supply and give Betty a worried look. If Betty jumps ship andJanesville Presents ...continues on its downward spiral—Martha and I would be out of a job.
“I think you have great ideas. We both do,” I say, remembering Hollinger’s push to sign Betty as our host despite her single status.
“Every girl is a homemaker in the making,” he said, shoving her headshot across the conference table to the EBN executive sitting at the head, smoking a cigarette. “And Betty’s the kind of homemaker everygirl wants to be and every man wants to marry. And here’s the bonus—this is who she really is. She was made for this part.”
Even Martha agrees that it’s hard to argue against the ratings or the piles of fan mail we get each week. I tell Betty that, hoping it will address her insecurities.
“That’s kind of you,” she says like it’s a line in a script.
“That’s kind of you, but ... There’s clearly more to that sentence,” I say.
