6.42. I'm on a train on the way in. My eyelids feel like they've been open way too long in the last few days. Screen fatigue.
Yesterday we delivered most of our material: 18 five-minute films plus 18 two- minute films and an 8 minute film for school kids about global warming.
The scripts long ago lost their meaning, pulled around by committee. People who work in broadcast often assume that making films outside that world is easier. Give me someone who knows the medium and knows what they want any day instead of these idiots.
The woman I've been working for throughout this is based a long way away. That would normally be a good thing. Every time we need an edit approved, we just upload it and send a link by email, right?
The phone rings straight away....
"Rob?", she whispers with a trace of panic, like something is my fault.
"I'm having problems downloading this thing - it's not working?"
"Well, what's it doing?"
"This thing popped up.... it says transferring data or something... 63 megabytes...."
"That's what it's supposed to do. It is downloading it."
"How will I watch it?"
She is head of a fucking media organisation in the 21st century.
"Click on it, when it's finished." This is so lame.
"Oh no, the other phone's going! Bye!"