There are plants oxygenating the room but I suspect the nod towards green and leafy is a losing battle. Since television studios are some of the few places left in London where people can still smoke, most feel it is obligatory. A dense smoky haze fills our days. People don’t move around much, they stay at their desks. This suggests that there is a substantial amount of genuine industry but not much communication. Calling a meeting indicates the seriousness of my issue. Through the glass partition I see my team congregate. It’s like watching a bunch of anxious relatives waiting by a sick bed. The analogy is frighteningly close to the reality. I’m pleasantly surprised to see that they possibly realize as much; everyone appears slightly nervous and sweaty. They are trying hard to look as though they are not trying at all. Their names are Thomas and Mark (the creative team), Jacquelyn (production secretary), Diana (marketing manager), Graham (sponsorship and advertising manager), Deborah (PR officer), Richard (broadcast strategy and scheduling manager) and Fi. Because we work in TV they are known as Tom, Jaki, Di, Gray, Debs, Ricky and Fi. There was nothing we could do with Mark.

The team look at one another to discover a suitable expression to draw their faces into. They are trying to decide whether to look racked with professional concern, coolly indifferent or bright and optimistic. The problem with my industry is that a very large part of it is populated by those who refuse to leave their student years behind them. They dress like students. Everyone is ill-looking thin. Dressing down is an art form. The merest hint of trying, an iota of personal pride, will be condemned. Everyone looks as though they do too many drugs, and smoke and drink too much. It’s fair. Besides looking like students, the attitudes are similar, too. It is only students who could have arrived at the concepts of ‘essay crisis’ or ‘no milk in the fridge crisis’. These are not crises.