My Magazine Ch. 03

After her first face-to-face business meeting with her solicitor, the new independent business owner Jenni Miles met her small hand-picked team of magazine writers and support personal in a meeting room at the Paramount Towers Hotel.

It was an exciting occasion, especially for her.

Everyone chatted in groups over tea or coffee until 3:00 when she called, 'Right guys grab your seats and take the ride."

Jenni told them the next six weeks would be very costly for her, with money pouring out and nothing coming back in. However, that was the reality of setting up from scratch.

"It's a hugely tight schedule to launch our new mag in six weeks' time but we're used to doing remarkable things, aren't we?"

The responses were in the affirmative.

"This morning I completed papers to apply to register my preferred name of my company, JJ Publications Ltd and our search indicated there was no closely similar company name and it's likely that name will be approved."

"What does the middle J mean?"

"It's Joyce – don't interrupt her," snapped Rhonda, glaring at Timothy.

"We've also applied for registration of the name of the magazine which is My Magazine

"My Magazine", the name was repeated and in some cases repeated again by team members.

"Do you think the use of 'My' sounds rather egotistic?" Timothy asked.

"Yes it might be interrupted by some like that but my thinking is the majority of readers will identify it as meaning their magazine and I ask you how much closer can a magazine get to its reader than that?"

Viv said, "The name sounds fine and generally women will approve of that intimate name. After all we will be aiming at intelligent women."

Timothy muttered he thought the use of 'my' was rather trite.

"Well that's a viewpoint, and thanks Timothy. I'd like a quite word with you outside please."

Jenni marched out of the room, all eyes following her. Timothy rose lazily and went out into the foyer and sat down in a lounge facing Jenni who was standing.

"Timothy I shall be brief. In my office the other day when I offered you the opportunity of joining my new venture, I explained fully my reasons why I had not named you as chief subeditor. I know that would have been a blow, and said so at the time. But we must move on."

"You have the knack sometimes of behaving like a little sod with a chip on his shoulder, as you display in there by disrupting my presentation. Grow up Timothy because I want your talents but not the crap that sometimes surrounds you. A change in your attitude is required, although I don't want to totally squash that spirit of defiance in you; I just want you to manage it better. If you are willing to do that, please follow me back into the room. Otherwise ..."

Jenni reached the door of the conference room and felt the presence of Timothy right behind her. She was relieved. Although Timothy could be a little shit at least he was male, and no way did she want an all-female staff in the editorial room. Males willing to venture into a magazine's henhouse were a scarce as hen's teeth – she winced at in thinking that cliché.

"Well, guys, that's sorted. I'm asking Timothy to devise a promotional launching programme for our magazine and get it to me ASAP – hopefully by next Wednesday, complete with sketches. Thank you Timothy," Jenni said glancing at the surprised young man.

"Call on Felix to do your sketches, but remember his charge-out time costs big bucks."

Jenni put her glasses on briefly to consult her notes, then took them off and smudged her mascara when rubbing her left eye.

"Rhonda I want you to produce a shopping lists for us, from computers right down to teaspoons. Please phone Ron Wiggins who will give you an office at Zephyr Media for the next week or so. You are authorized to discuss suppliers and contract rates with their manager of Stores Doug Weld, who you know. He has been asked to give you utmost cooperation. I would suggest we should basically set-up like our old office but with laptops for everyone."

"Folk I'm asking you to use your home computers and work from home for the rest of this week – the memory stick in front of each of you contains all our files, overset and features awaiting attention – they have been handed over to use by Ron Wiggins with the approval of Zephyr's chairman. Go for work you usually handle, to avoid repetition. We may not use it all, even any of it, but even so it will remain a valuable resource for use in emergencies.

"I want everyone back here at 10:00 on Sunday for a two-hour production meeting, led by Viv. I'll brief you Viv. Anyone not wanting to give me two free hours of their time on Sunday, well just don't show up, you will not be censured."

"Everyone please get three taxi chits from Rhonda before you leave here today. One will be to get you back here on Sunday morning, another to give to your partner to arrive here at noon and then to join us for drinks followed by lunch at my expense, and the third chit is to use to take your partner home when you're satisfied it's time to leave."

That was greeted with a happy round of applause, and for the first time Jenni looked flustered

"I guess you know I'm now under a bit of pressure to pull the right strings to get the right results. I aim to be a good employer and in setting up I expect give and take to operate between us – but in no way do I intend to exploit your goodwill. If we succeed, and the company begins making surpluses, I will be considering a staff profit-sharing scheme. I know they have gone out of favour, but not with me."

"I respond to incentives myself. I also know having someone measuring out bonuses according to his or her analyses of productivity reports and other fang-dangles dreamed up by accountants high on illegal substances is a pig-arse substitute for profit sharing – excuse my uncouth lapse."

Jenni explained that she was seeking permanent accommodation within the CBD but in the morning would search for temporary premises which they could occupy from sometime next week – "A big empty warehouse will be fine, I think – that is if you girls can cope with rats."

"We seem to be able to cope with Timothy," Brenda ventured.

"Leave Timothy alone – no wonder he sometimes reacts with bite when he's picked on like that," Jenni admonished lightly.

"Sorry Timothy."

"Accepted sweet Brenda."

"Oooh," chorused some of the other girls, and Brenda swept her hands through her hair and down her front, drawing screams of laughter with Jenni joining in.

Timothy grinned, his gaze fixed on Brenda as if his mind was ticking.

The meeting continued for almost another two hours. The mood of everyone delighted Jenni – it was very much like the first day back at school in a new year, everyone in good spirits, ready for action and to step into the unknown.

Brenda, now to shift to the subbing table permanently, was given the responsibility of advertising liaison. Jenni had announced that she'd negotiated a verbal agreement with Ron Wiggins, due to be signed tomorrow, for Zephyr to act as My Magazine's advertising agent for the next year at normal agency commission.

"That's brilliant Jenni," said Brenda, when told that her liaison person was Eve Wright. "There's nobody new to brief and Zephyr's advertising department has contact with the potential clients we need to cultivate – that's wonderful."

"Yes to a point," replied Jenni. "The downside is that many of the advertisers we wish to snare will already be advertisers with various publications of Zephyr Media. We have to accept that the salespersons' first loyalty will be to Zephyr. That's why I am looking after publicity and promotion myself – we have to make ourselves known and do this quickly and with real impact so that advertisers begin asking their agencies about us."

"Advertisers are wary of new magazines – many arrive and fail within their first year or two. But we know this is the reality and have to offer discounts until we begin to be seen making headway."

"I'd like you to try to see Eve tomorrow Brenda and try to get an introduction to her manager at the same time. Remember Eve represents a walking goldmine to us. The more we impress them the better."

"Find if she can do lunch with you and me this Thursday or Friday. That won't impress her, but you and I may appeal to her as being worth the trouble of doing her best. You'll need to sit with Timothy and me on our Go Committee dealing with publicity and promotion to allow you to keep Eve informed and for you to keen up to date about what is going on."

"Now coffee and cool drinks are available outside during a ten minute break. Rhonda has been writing up some notes I gave her about the aims, content and character of out Magazine so on your return please read this broad concept and then be prepared to give me your feedback. Although My Magazine actually will be my magazine I cannot launch it and sustain it alone – I need you guys being part of my dream and drive to knock some other magazines aside to allow us to be producing one of the top five magazines for women in the UK."

The team left the room and Rhonda placed a folder in front of each empty seat.

"Rhonda you need a temporary office. Will the dining area in my apartment suit you?"

"Yep, I've already got my stuff in the boot of my car. I was going to ask anyway, as it's no use locating in my flat as two of my three flat mates work shifts so the sound of my keyboarding and banging about would drive the day sleepers nuts."

Everyone arrived on time for the staff meeting on late Sunday morning, causing Jenni to pay tribute to the enthusiasm of youth when faced with a challenging new venture. They were, of course, a hand-picked team and would not want the meeting to drag on when they had an 'after match function' to attend with their partners.

She launched into a quick pep talk, brought the team up to date on her efforts to settle on permanent accommodation for the magazine and then called for questions.

"We're doing fine," said Jenni, looking at her watch. "Bar staff will be just arriving at the function room hired for our lunch."

"Now the last item on my list is I need volunteers to take on the extra responsibility of writing a specialist article one a month for which you will receive no recognition other than a by-line. You are all either current or former reporters/writers. When we get into profitability with the magazine we will talk about some of incentives and rewards. "

"We'll place these columns as the size of the magazine grows, which I suspect will be very soon. Are there any volunteers?"

All hands went up.

Viv was given a property column to write about the experiences of real estate salespersons in solving people's problems or blowing big deals. Her first contact was Jenni's friend Tess Jordan.

"Ask her to tell you about the deal she was setting up for me. The greedy landlord was insisting on a forty percent recent increase above what the previous tenant had paid and had reduced the basement parking spaces that previously were allocated to that floor from fifteen to nine."

"On top of that, the premises had been vacant for four months which should have meant a reduction in rent, not an increase. The scoundrel or perhaps hopelessly optimistic representative of the landlord argued that the building project across the street that would block the parkland view might never get off the ground."

Timothy, with his interest in books, was asked to produce a monthly in-depth interview on long established English writers and artists, and Jenni's former headmistress, a poet and painter Miss Lizzie Childs who lived in New Zealand had agreed to submit a monthly poem.

Tina was giving the job or finding women driving interesting vehicles and talking to them about it – whether the vehicles were old locomotives, vintages cars, traction engines or fork-lifts, for example.

"Finally Mae. I'd like you to ..."

"I'd like to write about how design influences our lives."

"I'd like Mae to write anything about design that takes her fancy."

The following function was a great success, with partners of the journalists pleased to have the opportunity to meet everyone, particularly Jenni. There was disappointment amongst staff that Jenni did not produce a partner but admiring glances were cast at Rhonda's very athletic partner, the manager of the sports shop where she purchased running apparel.

Everyone enjoyed themselves and behaved impeccably with two exceptions – the part-time artist/cartoonist Felix Allum began shouting at his live-in partner, a very sultry-looking travel agent who couldn't keep her eyes off one of the barmen, and Elle Schafer – described by Brenda as two-drink Ella – spent most of the later part of the afternoon asleep in her chair, softly snoring.

* * *

Returning to her empty flat that evening and sitting and thinking about events that day and the new people she'd met, Jennie had just closed the meeting when she took a call from the chief executive of Zephyr Media Ltd. It was a friendly call with Ron checking that she was making progress with her new venture and once again offering help if required.

"Oh faithful Ron," she said allowed, settling into her favourite chair with a cup of tea. She began recalling some aspects of their relationship that began eighteen years ago in New Zealand.

After two years of hard graft in provincial newspaper journalism, Jenni had decided reluctantly to seek experience on a metropolitan daily. Her mentor the chief subeditor Anthony Burrows had suggested she move on to better opportunities about the same time as Jenni herself was developing the migration urge.

"You're wasted here," he told her, as she brought him in his mid-morning coffee and buttered scone, which she did whenever she was in the office as a token of her gratitude for his generous mentoring.

Cynics in the office – and there were many of them – had long giving up looking for signs that A.B. was banging his protégé, to use the expression they used. It became obvious that this was a tutor-student relationship. Even editor Ivan Monk recognised the thorough grounding that this young reporter was receiving from his grumpy chief sub who in the past had refused to be involved in training journalists.

With that relationship going well, Ivan excused Jenni from attending most of the office training sessions presented either by him or guest tutors.

On Thursdays after work, A.B. and Jenni would share a bottle of red wine at the old pub across the road, and then have a mediocre dinner in the dining room. It was on Thursdays on those social occasions that A.B. voiced his best offerings to the aspiring journalist who was soaking up information as fast as he could deliver.

A.B. was widely read and had an endless flow of incidents and quotations to relate about journalism. It was through him that Jenni began reading the works of Ernest Hemmingway. She knew Hemmingway of course from school and university lectures and having to complete numerous reading passages and then write the obligatory interpretative pieces for marking.

But none of those school teachers and university lecturers had brought Hemmingway into her mind as A.B. achieved.

One Thursday evening Anthony told her about Hemmingway's time in the Spanish Civil War, making it sound as if it occurred only yesterday and A.B. was there right alongside war correspondent Hemmingway. Jenni knew the book Farewell to Arms and had never read it in entirely – only a couple of passages.

"The style seemed a little bit too macho for me," she confessed to A.B.

He simply grunted, and next day when she arrived at work Hemmingway's The Old Man and the Sea was on the top of her desk.

She read the précis on the dust jacket and dropped the book in front of A.B. and beginning to walk away said that she wasn't interested in reading a whole book about nothing but a man and a big fish.

"Jenni, read the damn book!"

The bellow went through the entire editorial suite of offices.

Jenni continued on defiantly for a couple of more paces, then stopped and turned. The entire group of subeditors had turned, and all were staring at her. She felt utterly humiliated.

Her mouth opened to berate A.B. but when she looked him had his head down slashing numerous unnecessary phrases from some poor bastard's thoughtfully crafted work. A.B. invariably called all male reporters bastards and female bitches when frustrated by inaccuracies or obvious omissions in their copy (their article).

She returned to the table, snatched up the book and stomped out to her desk and didn't see the grin under her tormentor's bowed head.

Jenni returned to Anthony's desk the next morning and admitted contritely, "Not bad" when handing over the book. "Got another one?"

A.B. grinned, and pulled out of his drawerThe Sun Also Rises. After that he introduced Jenni to other famous authors who began their writing careers as journalists.

On another Thursday chat over a bottle of red he explained to Jenni the art of writing a good headline, quoted some of the best headlines ever written and some of the greatest bloopers and why reader would probably yawn at a heading 'Dog Bites Man' and yet 'Man Bites Dog' would excite no end of interest.

"I must say Anthony I know that I should specialise but specialise in what? Previously I had been thinking only in reporting, but you are opening my eyes to other options."

"The time has come for you to move on Jenni. You have gained great experience, and now your eyes are open."

The next morning when Jenni arrived at A.B.'s desk with his coffee and scone, he handed Jenni a parcel.

"What is it?"

"It's a book. I ordered it for you almost six weeks ago and it arrived in this morning's post from the UK."

"Why are giving me a present?"

"It's a going away present."

"But I'm not going anywhere."

"Oh yes you are. I had a chat with the chief sub on the Southern Star in Wellington. I heard that are looking for an intermediate-grade sub, but haven't advertised as they were hoping to make an internal appointment. But he's such a bastard that none of the reporters on the newspaper will apply for the vacancy."

"And so you offered me as fodder?"

"That's just about it. I said I had this hot-shot young female reporter whose aim was to be the editor of a top women's magazine and she needed some big time subbing experience."

"Gregory said 'Oh yeah – that sounds like someone you're trying to push out" and I said you're been trained by me, and he changed his tune, saying, "Send her down and I'll give her a couple of months' trial."

The rest of the subbing table had downed their blue pencils and were listening to this narration.

"I said, 'Sorry, but Jenni doesn't do trials' and he pissed himself laughing."

"He said, 'Okay, send her down. If she's useless I make her life such hell she'll be running back home to mama before the end of her first week here."

"Ivan says it's okay for you to finish up this Friday."

"Oh Anthony, I don't know what to say."

"You could try giving me a smiling Thank you."

Jenni surged forward and smothered the side of his face in kisses.

"Get off, get off me you clown," growled A.B., flailing his arms. "I'm not into kissing and anyway your perfume stinks."

Highly excited, Jenni turned to leave.

"Here don't forget this," said A.B. said, holding out the book by Harold Evans, widely acknowledged as the most authoritative handbook available for would-be subeditors, layout subs and editors in its time.

"Jenni read the damn book!" chorused the listening subeditors.

On Thursday evening, with only one day to go, Jenni had farewell drinks and dinner with A.B. As usual, he always ordered and always paid – but on this occasion he'd ordered his end-of-year Christmas spread as a special: French champagne and three course meal featuring soup, then turkey with roasted vegetables followed by Christmas pudding and brandy.