It’s A Man’s World. Polly Courtney

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СКАЧАТЬ so worried.’

      Alexa smiled harder and joined in with a laugh of her own. Despite his fifty-seven years, Peterson had a good head of hair and piercing blue eyes that crinkled attractively at the edges as he smiled, which he did all the time. The chief executive wore his smile like a mask.

      ‘As you know, I’m very pleased with your achievements at Hers.’

      Alexa nodded again, more confidently. Peterson was pleased with the re-launch of Hers; she knew that much. Who wouldn’t be pleased with a three-fold increase in gross revenue and a twenty percent reduction in costs? The magazine had been on the brink of collapse when Alexa, then a management consultant at TDS Consulting, had been seconded to establish a new business plan for the title. At Peterson’s request and at vast expense, Alexa had been transferred from TDS and brought in-house at Senate Media to oversee the execution of this transformation – a transformation that was just beginning to bear fruit. The magazine was cash positive for the first time in a decade and Alexa had made it happen.

      ‘I think you proved a lot of people wrong – not least the Americans.’

      Alexa returned his smile. Being part of a US-owned company meant that everyone in the UK offices, including Terry Peterson, answered to the board of Senate Media Inc., or ‘the Americans’, as they were known.

      Alexa knew what the Americans had thought of Peterson’s initial suggestion that a twenty-nine-year-old management consultant should take charge of their fifty-plus title. She knew, because Peterson’s PA had inadvertently forwarded her an email containing the full conversation between the UK and US board. Alexa sometimes wondered whether she would have made quite so much progress at Hers had she not caught sight of that email.

      ‘I’m thinking,’ said Peterson, his eyes still twinkling, ‘you might be able to help us out on something else.’

      Alexa felt a combination of apprehension and relief. Peterson’s smile was suspiciously intense.

      ‘Another title,’ he clarified. ‘It’s the same set of problems we had at Hers, really: declining circulation, collapsing advertising industry, increasing competition from the internet . . .’

      Alexa looked at him, trying to guess which magazine they were talking about. Frankly, it could have been any Senate title, or any UK magazine for that matter. The whole publishing industry was falling apart.

      ‘I’m referring, of course, to Banter.’

      Alexa swallowed. She looked up to the wall behind Peterson’s head, where a set of black frames immortalised the front cover of every title ever published by Senate Media UK. Banter was there, top right, next to Teenz, an American import that had a limited life expectancy. Alexa glanced at the cover and then looked away, gazing at the bustle of Soho in the mid-afternoon heat. She tried to collect her thoughts. Even looking at the cover felt wrong. There was such a concentration of flesh and cleavage, it was overwhelming. Breasts spilled off the page, a smattering of strategically placed headlines obscuring nipples and other bodily parts that would tip the magazine into the category of porn – if it wasn’t already there.

      Porn, mused Alexa, increasingly aware that Peterson was expecting some kind of a response. That was the answer, up there on the wall, amid the airbrushed buttocks and cleavages. Banter was a form of soft porn. It was dirty, sexist, degrading to women and, frankly, an embarrassment to UK society. What would her mother say if she found out she was working for Banter?

      Alexa pursed her lips, angry with herself for letting her mother’s opinion interfere with her decision-making. She was turning thirty next year.

      ‘I . . .’

      Alexa cursed inwardly. The image of her disapproving mother was distracting. But there was something else, deep inside her, knocking her thoughts off course. It was small, only partially formed, but Alexa knew instantly what it was.

      ‘I’m not familiar with the lads’ mag market,’ she said.

      ‘Just as you weren’t familiar with the over-fifties market,’ Peterson returned, pointedly.

      The feeling swelled inside her. Alexa tried to suppress it. She recognised it from the first time she had sat in this room with the chief executive – the time he had asked her to take on the Hers re-launch. It was the buzz of the challenge. She could do little to quash it, this amorphous sensation at the back of her mind. Banter was one of Senate Media’s flagship brands. It was a household name. Licensed in seventeen countries and filled with the dirtiest smut that could be legally sold in supermarkets around the world – and some that couldn’t – the magazine had been a controversial hit for Senate since its launch nearly seven years ago. Unfortunately, though, this was one challenge she would have to turn down.

      ‘As I said,’ Peterson went on, uninterested in Alexa’s protest, ‘the project isn’t dissimilar to the one you’ve undertaken at Hers. The only difference is the severity.’

      ‘The severity of . . . what?’ Alexa knew that what she really ought to be doing was telling Peterson, politely, that she wasn’t interested in the role. But she was curious.

      ‘Banter’s circulation fell by a third this year. The audience isn’t buying magazines any more – or if they are, they’re buying a competitor’s.’ He shook his head. ‘And then there’s the legal costs.’

      Alexa nodded. No explanation was required. Lawsuits against Banter were legendary. Nearly every week, Banter was served a writ by some celebrity objecting to a crude or racist joke in the magazine.

      ‘The truth of the matter – and please, don’t mention this outside these four walls – is that the Americans are looking to shut it down by the end of the year.’

      ‘What?’ Alexa stared. She hadn’t meant to speak, not until she had formulated her polite rejection of Peterson’s offer. But shut it down? Banter was one of Senate’s biggest brands.

      Terry nodded, his smile wavering a little. ‘They’re looking to cut costs.’

      ‘Right.’ Alexa tried to hide her morbid fascination. She would have liked to see a copy of Banter’s financials, just to find out where they were going so badly wrong.

      Peterson suddenly straightened up in his chair, looking at Alexa with a strangely breezy expression.

      ‘However! It’s not all doom and gloom. I’ve secured us a lifeline. If we can turn things around by the end of the financial year then we’re home and dry.’

      We, noted Alexa. She hadn’t agreed to anything.

      ‘Mind you,’ he went on, ‘I had to agree to some fairly hefty year-end targets in order to get the Americans to agree.’

      Alexa did some quick mental arithmetic. It was early July. Banter had until the end of April to hit its year-end targets. That was less than ten months. Re-launching Hers had taken over a year and that was just a magazine with a few online tools. Reviving Banter would involve websites, tablet editions, mobile apps . . . Alexa stopped herself. She was already thinking about the solutions. This wasn’t a project she would be working on.

      ‘Look,’ she said, meeting his eye. ‘I’m sure this would be a great opportunity for someone, but I’m not sure I’m the right person СКАЧАТЬ