Polly Courtney - It’s A Man’s World

Porn , mused Alexa, increasingly aware that Peterson was expecting some kind of a response. That was the answer, up there on the wall, amid the airbrushed buttocks and cleavages. Banter was a form of soft porn. It was dirty, sexist, degrading to women and, frankly, an embarrassment to UK society. What would her mother say if she found out she was working for Banter ?

Alexa pursed her lips, angry with herself for letting her mother’s opinion interfere with her decision-making. She was turning thirty next year.

‘I . . .’

Alexa cursed inwardly. The image of her disapproving mother was distracting. But there was something else, deep inside her, knocking her thoughts off course. It was small, only partially formed, but Alexa knew instantly what it was.

‘I’m not familiar with the lads’ mag market,’ she said.

‘Just as you weren’t familiar with the over-fifties market,’ Peterson returned, pointedly.

The feeling swelled inside her. Alexa tried to suppress it. She recognised it from the first time she had sat in this room with the chief executive – the time he had asked her to take on the Hers re-launch. It was the buzz of the challenge. She could do little to quash it, this amorphous sensation at the back of her mind. Banter was one of Senate Media’s flagship brands. It was a household name. Licensed in seventeen countries and filled with the dirtiest smut that could be legally sold in supermarkets around the world – and some that couldn’t – the magazine had been a controversial hit for Senate since its launch nearly seven years ago. Unfortunately, though, this was one challenge she would have to turn down.

‘As I said,’ Peterson went on, uninterested in Alexa’s protest, ‘the project isn’t dissimilar to the one you’ve undertaken at Hers . The only difference is the severity.’

‘The severity of . . . what?’ Alexa knew that what she really ought to be doing was telling Peterson, politely, that she wasn’t interested in the role. But she was curious.

‘ Banter ’s circulation fell by a third this year. The audience isn’t buying magazines any more – or if they are, they’re buying a competitor’s.’ He shook his head. ‘And then there’s the legal costs.’

Alexa nodded. No explanation was required. Lawsuits against Banter were legendary. Nearly every week, Banter was served a writ by some celebrity objecting to a crude or racist joke in the magazine.

‘The truth of the matter – and please, don’t mention this outside these four walls – is that the Americans are looking to shut it down by the end of the year.’

‘ What? ’ Alexa stared. She hadn’t meant to speak, not until she had formulated her polite rejection of Peterson’s offer. But shut it down ? Banter was one of Senate’s biggest brands.

Terry nodded, his smile wavering a little. ‘They’re looking to cut costs.’

‘Right.’ Alexa tried to hide her morbid fascination. She would have liked to see a copy of Banter ’s financials, just to find out where they were going so badly wrong.

Peterson suddenly straightened up in his chair, looking at Alexa with a strangely breezy expression.

‘However! It’s not all doom and gloom. I’ve secured us a lifeline. If we can turn things around by the end of the financial year then we’re home and dry.’

We , noted Alexa. She hadn’t agreed to anything.

‘Mind you,’ he went on, ‘I had to agree to some fairly hefty year-end targets in order to get the Americans to agree.’

Alexa did some quick mental arithmetic. It was early July. Banter had until the end of April to hit its year-end targets. That was less than ten months. Re-launching Hers had taken over a year and that was just a magazine with a few online tools. Reviving Banter would involve websites, tablet editions, mobile apps . . . Alexa stopped herself. She was already thinking about the solutions. This wasn’t a project she would be working on.

‘Look,’ she said, meeting his eye. ‘I’m sure this would be a great opportunity for someone, but I’m not sure I’m the right person for the job.’

‘Ah.’ Peterson leaned forward, squinting jovially. ‘I know what you’re thinking. You’re young, you’re female and you’re worried that the staff won’t treat you with respect.’

Alexa hesitated. That wasn’t what she had been thinking at all.

‘I’ve come up with a solution that I think you’ll like.’

‘No, the thing is—’

‘Hear me out.’ The chief executive raised a warning finger. Alexa was reminded yet again that the smile was a veneer. ‘I think we should give you the title of managing director . That way, we won’t be treading on any toes but you’ll get the respect you deserve.’

Alexa frowned. Quite apart from the fact that she didn’t want to be discussing the politics of an office in which she had no plans to work, she couldn’t think of a single magazine that had a managing director at its helm. Magazines were run by editors .

‘How does that work?’ she asked, despite herself.

‘Derek Piggott has been acting editor for the past nine months,’ Peterson explained, so I suggest that we promote him to deputy editor and—’

‘ Promote? Isn’t that a demotion ?’

‘Well, strictly speaking. But I suggest we don’t make him editor in case he tries to pull rank. I’ve known Derek for years. He’s a good man, just a little . . . well, I’m sure you’ll be fine.’

Alexa wondered for a moment what Peterson meant, then stopped herself and leaned forward in the chair.

‘I’m sorry, but I think you need to look elsewhere for your managing director,’ she said, as clearly as she possibly could without risk of sounding condescending.

‘Alexa, I think you’re the right person for the job. I called you here today because I wanted to ask you to undertake the project.’

And because you need to fill the position as quickly as possible , thought Alexa, wondering how much of Peterson’s persuasion was down to his faith in her ability and how much was due to desperation.

‘You have the experience from your work at Hers and you understand digital . . . wireless . . . solutions.’

Alexa managed to refrain from laughing. Terry Peterson was not known for his technological know-how. Having worked in the magazine industry since the late eighties, he was very much a man of paper and ink. If the rumours were to be believed, his morning ritual involved his PA printing out the contents of his inbox, then Peterson replying to each email on pieces of paper for the PA to type up and send. Perhaps, thought Alexa, the chief executive’s aversion to new technology might be a factor in the decline in so many Senate brands.

‘ That’s where the money is, these days,’ Peterson went on, his confidence sounding a little shaky. ‘You understand that. You did it for Hers . You can do it for Banter .’

Alexa nodded warily. There were so many reasons for not taking on the project. It involved undisclosed targets that even the CEO was describing as ‘hefty’, the timeframe seemed ludicrously short and what with this Derek character and Peterson’s managing director proposal, it sounded like a political minefield. But most of all, thought Alexa, seeing the image of her mother flash through her mind again, there was the fact that Banter was a porn magazine.

She held Peterson’s gaze, trying again to come up with a firm but polite rejection. As she opened her mouth to speak, she saw that Peterson’s expression had changed. He was smiling more intensely than ever, like a hypnotist defying his charge to disobey.