In My Old Age, I'm Not As Interactive

By: Ben Tiernan

For the moment, I have a job in advertising, and in my capacity as an advertiser I have to listen to network executives sell their programming lineup for the upcoming season. These presentations are called Up-Fronts, and the idea is that, once exposed to the new programs, all brands will clamber in and line up to run commercials on Paul and Gorrax - It's Will And Grace meets Deep Space Nine.

These presentations usually kick off with a lot of fanfare, but it is rare when my senses are so accosted by sound, sight and overwhelming personalities that the experience closely resembles trauma.

Last week Fuse Network came into our office to tell us what they've done, and what they're going to do. Fuse is a cable music network, so naturally they generated a little hubbub. For my taste, they went over the top. They handed out noisy little PDAs and flashed seizure-inducing images on the screen. Through the sound system, they piped Brittney, Fiddy', and Chingy, and at the helm an animated chubby man in a suit effused over ratings. To thoroughly confuse me, they brought a gospel choir into the room. They sang and clapped and danced around while the chubby man yelled and images of thongs and skateboards flashed on the screen. I felt sick.

Through the cacophony, I heard that we were engaged in a contest, and that clues were forthcoming. The prize - the PDA in our hand. I wanted the PDA, so I hunkered down and tried to listen. Soon, a video began to play of a small Asian man singing a Rickey Martin song poorly. Pictures of things flashed on the screen. These were the proposed "clues", but to what? What was the contest? What was the puzzle?

I was flabbergasted and angry because I wasn't going to win a PDA. In a room filled with dozens of television and advertising executives, I was surely the smartest one, but there was no way I could win if I didn't know the rules. How did they know what we were doing? Maybe they didn't. The music blared, the small Asian man jerked on the screen, the gospel singers danced, and the chubby man bounced at the head of the room.

The PDA said BUZZ IN, so I did. I pressed the face of the hand-held, and the music stopped, the video stopped, the gospels singers stopped, and the chubby man went ballistic. “Who buzzed in? Who knows the answer?”

“I did.”

“Tell us. What's the answer?”

All faces turned toward me- eager anticipatory faces, caught up in the fervor of the moment.

“What the hell is going on?” I demanded.

The man was clearly upset. “Just follow the clues. FOLLOW THE CLUES!”

“But what do the...”

It was no use. Before I could finish, the music was back up, the video was rolling, and gospel singers swayed in their gowns