Meals of Misery

Annetta sat in the leather chair opposite the heavy oak desk, smoothing down the fabric of her skirt. The air in the room was thick, the kind of oppressive silence that usually preceded a storm. Across from her sat three men who held the fate of "Annetta's Kitchen" in their hands: Fox Brown, Aurelius Hermich, and Jim Masters. They were all prominent businessmen or politicians, who owed the majority portion of shares of the national broadcaster, at which Annetta worked.

"Annetta," Fox started, his voice lacking its usual on-camera warmth, which he reserved for his own show quiz show, in which high schoolers competed for a scholarship in a prestigious universities. He tapped a heap of papers on the desk. "We need to talk about the numbers. Or rather, the lack of them."

The woman shifted in her seat, crossing her legs; her yellow sundress rode up a bit exposing some of her calves. The blond quickly corrected the dress. "I know the viewership has dipped slightly, Fox. But it’s just a transition period. The audience is adjusting to the new format with the interviews. They will become more interesting with time; the national broadcaster has the money to invite celebrities."

"Maybe the national broadcaster does have the money, but it’s been months, the viewership is slipping", Aurelius – a middle-aged ex-politician and a onetime Parliament Speaker interjected, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. "Anne, we've lost forty percent of our demographic since you started that little crusade on Facebook. The men who tune in don't want to hear about feminism or objectification. They watch because they like the hostess, not the activist."

Jim nodded gravely, sliding a document that contained all sorts of charts across the polished wood toward her. "It’s not just a dip. It’s a freefall. The sponsors are getting nervous. We’ve had to make a drastic decision regarding the direction of the show to win them back. We need to pivot hard, and frankly, your current persona isn't fitting the bill."

Fox tapped the contract he held. "We’ve rewritten the format. We’re keeping the interviews, but the guests are changing. From now on, you’ll be talking to men or women who will be taking a very physical and hands on interest with you”. He watched as Annetta snorted thinking that this was a joke. “And to ensure we keep the audience captivated, the wardrobe budget is being cut. You will be conducting these segments in a bikini or naked, or in other clothing provided to you, and you will do your absolute best to satisfy our guests. Sign here if you want to keep your job."

Annetta stared at the paper, the words blurring into a cruel joke. She laughed, a dry, brittle sound that died instantly in the heavy silence of the room. “Okey, guys, this is a joke, right?” She laughed her patented horse-like laugh, which grated on Aurelius nerves. Seeing how the three board members were not laughing, the TV chef composed herself. "This is absurd," she said, pushing the contract back across the oak desk. "You want me to interview people that want to sleep with me and do it... naked? What is this? Some sort of overly twisted porn show? Are you all insane? Are you hearing yourselves?”. She leaned in closer to Fox to inspect his eyes as if suspecting that he’s on drugs. “Are you on drugs? Tell me, is it cocaine or speed, or something else?” The men looked at each other, but said nothing.

“Jesus Christ, guys”, the woman continued adamantly, her long blond her shaking with the movement of her head. “What the actual fuck? First of all, what you are saying is highly illegal, I mean, come on, this is probably outlawed in the most of the world”, she said as she bent her index finger down. “Second of all, even if this was legal, I am a mother, a freaking wife, for god’s sake. I don’t know anything about porn or how to act like a porn star!”, she cried out aloud hands raised in to the ether.  

“Well”, Jim started. “We were contacted by some wealthy people, that would pay us, and, of course, you money…”, his speech was interrupted by Annetta slamming her fist on the table. Aurelius and Fox rolled their eyes at her outburst, but said nothing. “Money? You think couple of hundred bucks will make me be all lovey dovey with… what, again, who exactly, people wanting to bed me? Again, is this a joke? Do you guys want me to complain to the Employment Dispute Commission or something?”, she spat. “Ten grand per episode”, Jim finished his sentence, which Annette previously cut short.

There was silence in the executive room, which was only from time to time breached by the ticking of a mechanical clock, the remnant of a time long gone when the national broadcaster was just starting its journalistic activities. A time when talking to a show hostess about her degrading herself on camera for the pleasure of some anonymous men, who will be probably jacking off to it, would have never crossed anyone’s mind. But in this 21^st century, in the age, where anyone by turning on the tv or Youtube channel could see scantily clad female singers writing around on the floor as if this was some sort of women empowerment, this was probably a real possibility. Annetta swallowed, her mind racing. Ten grand per episode… what the fuck, is this real? What? No. No way. They are pulling my leg. No one is that rich. “And, who, may I ask – and don’t think I’m thinking about this nonsense – is paying such an absurd amount”, the buxom blond inquired the men. The executives look at each other as if trying to transfer their own thoughts to each other telepathically.

“They… prefer to be anonymous”, Fox sheepishly stated. “Needless to say, they are a big fan of your show… well… more a fan of your… body… and the way you look”. Annetta blinked at them. The way I look? Sure, I still have a nice rack, but come on, I will soon be over thirty five, I have stretch marks on my body from giving birth many times, and some fat on my belly, which simply does not go away no matter how hard I exercise. For Pete’s sake, with every pregnancy I’m getting more and more thicker, I’ll soon be looking like freaking Gina Carano. “Excuse me?”, the blond said slowly her nostrils flaring in anger.

"No need to be angry about it”, Aurelius said. “Take it as a compliment, I mean, you do look attractive, and many men… or women… would like to sleep with you. I'm not talking about myself, so should you know, cause I'm married, and she would have my balls, if I ever sept with you”, he ended his babbling”. Annetta snorted. “Gee, thanks for this awkward compliment, that totally does not make me feel like I’m in high school and trying to talk to bunch of teenage boys who never laid eyes on a girl before”.

“Glad you are taking this in stride”, Jim smiled, but was cut off again. “I’m not fucking taking anything in stride. Ten grand per episode?! And you believed them?”, the blond asked them incredulously not believing their stupidity. “Nah, I’m done here, see you guys at the Commission, hope you have a good attorney, because I sure do”, she laughed, but was totally serious.

The moment she got up from her seat and was just heading towards the door Fox yelled after her. She looked at him. The quiz show host was holding a yellow protruding envelope in his hand. He stood up, walked up to Annetta and handed her the envelope. It felt slightly heavier than an envelop containing a set of documents. The woman arched her eyebrow at him. Andrius simply shrugged and told her to open it.

She gasped when a thick wad of cash protruding from the envelope greeted her. The scent of freshly printed money assaulted her nostrils. She looked at the men. Is this real? Are these fake? Is it fucking Monopoly money, perhaps? “Whaaa…”, the chef started, but this time it was she who was cut off. “We had our finance department examine it. They even went to the bank to check whether the bills are genuine. They are”, Jim said offering her an official document with the bank’s seal on it. She quickly gazed at it and from what little time she had to inspect she summarized that the bankers counted the bills as being all 50 euro banknotes and their total sum was 10 grand.

 “Well…?”, the men said looking expectantly.