Topic: Summer WHAM - An Intern's Perspective

Fliss

Date: 2015-07-31 13:46 EST
It had taken some time, but finally Liv had convinced Johnny to take Alexei and Maria off to Hatton Point in Arcadia to explore the park and zoo there. It wasn't somewhere they had visited before, but the heat was starting to get to Liv a little as her bump rounded out, and she needed a day off to recharge. That, and there was something else on her mind, too.

"Peace at last," she sighed happily, sinking down onto the couch next to Fliss, who was disconsolately picking at the label on her bottled soda. Liv eyed her eldest with faint amusement for a moment, before giving up on subtlety altogether. "All right, then, out with it."

Fliss looked up, startled, amber eyes finding her mother with something that might almost have been panic. "Out with what?"

"With whatever's been bothering you," Liv said gently, reaching over to tuck a hank of golden hair back behind her daughter's ear. "I know you, Felicity. You were wonderfully excited about this internship at WHAM, but over the course of the week, you've got more and more irritable. What's wrong?"

Fliss sighed, leaning back against the cushions. "It's ....I don't know, it's just ..."

Boring. That's what it was. Her first week interning at WHAM 101.1 had evolved from a terrifying and humiliating experience on the first day into boring monotony that was verging on mind-numbing.

The first day had been okay, in a pants-wetting, worrying, trying-to-find-where-she-fit-in kind of way. There had been the other interns to contend with, to begin - six other kids around her age, one other girl and the rest boys, all of whom seemed to know exactly how a radio station worked and looked down their noses at her because she wasn't wearing the latest designer sneakers, or whatever their problem was. She could ignore that, though - so what if they didn't like her" She had Lucas, and her family. She didn't need stuck-up townies to like her.

Then had come the handing out of jobs for the week. As it turned out, six of them meant six departments that would have a rotating schedule of interns for six weeks. Fliss had watched in a paroxysm of excitement and dread as their own personal rotas were handed out to them, and listened to the squeaks of delight from the others as they read their own first week's assignment. They'd all been started on actual jobs in the station - shadowing broadcast assistants, radio producers, even the receptionist. And then there was her. She was classed as a runner, which meant nothing to her.

So they went their separate ways, and she found herself in the care of a bubbly, if stressed out, halfling named Mags, carrying an armful of clipboards and paperwork, and wearing three pagers. And that was when she found out what a runner was. Dogsbody, teagirl, odd-job person. The one who makes the tea, and signs for the equipment taken out of storage; the one who herds guests to where they are supposed to be, and makes them tea; the one who has to run all over the station, and sometimes the city itself, to deliver messages by hand. Vital to the running of the station, no doubt, but generally treated like some kind of second-class citizen by anyone and everyone they came into contact with.

The first day had been fine, if a little humiliating. She'd been shadowing Mags, learning the layout of the station and watching how things were done. She'd encountered a couple of the other interns, who all seemed to be having a lot of fun, and who seemed to delight in ordering her to make them a drink just because she was there. There had been a couple of close calls with salt instead of sugar, but she'd restrained herself. Humiliating it might have been, but in the course of a single day, she'd learned where everything was, and her little hand-drawn map - given to her by Mags - was covered in helpful notes.

The second day, there was no Mags. Fliss had been declared officially a runner, and she was entirely on her own. Humiliation galore. She'd signed for something she had never seen before without reading the shipping manifest, and ended up with a room full of blow up dolls she had to try and somehow get rid of before anyone realized what she'd done. She'd tipped a tray of tea all over one of the guests waiting to be interviewed, only to discover to her horror that said guest was actually one of the station's board of directors. One of the DJs had denounced her on air as the worst example of Rhy'Din's youth ever to visit WHAM after she put half a spoon too much sugar into the man's coffee. It had been horrible, and all through it, the other teen interns had been sniggering and picking at her because she was "just" a runner.

The rest of the week, she hadn't had many mess-ups. The other runners at the station - five in all - had proved to be very helpful, handing her their various pager numbers to contact them if she needed any help at all, and suggesting the best places to hide if she needed a minute to get back on track. Some of the technicians had taken pity on her and spread the word to be nice to the stressed out runner, which had thankfully taken a lot of work off her back. But without the constant stress of always having somewhere to be, always having something to do, without the to-do list as long as her arm, she'd grown incredibly bored. Yes, there was the occasional excitement of seeing a celebrity from the city - and one sighting of DJ Zazzy herself - but mostly it was taking orders and doing what she was told as quickly and as quietly as she could.

"I can see how that would be very boring for you," Liv said quietly when Fliss had stopped speaking. "But, sweetheart, it's only one week. And all those horrible children who have been smirking and poking at you? They'll get their turn to be a runner over the next five weeks, while you'll be shadowing everyone else who seem to have jobs that will perhaps excite you a bit more."

"You really think it'll be better?" Fliss asked a little hopelessly.

Liv laughed, reaching over to pull her into a hug. "Love, I'd be lying if I told you that somewhere out there is a job that will excite you every minute of every day," she told her warmly. "Everyone, no matter how much they love their work, has days when it annoys them, or irritates them, or bores them. But most of the time, they love their work, and it shows in the quality they produce. I have no doubt that if one of these jobs you're about to get a taste of really excites you, you'll want to do more of it, but I also have no doubt that you're going to have at least one bad day a week, regardless of what you're doing. Because you're new, and you don't know how it all works, and you will make mistakes, just like everyone else."

"You don't make mistakes," Fliss pointed out in a slightly belligerent tone.

Liv sighed softly, shaking her head. "You're dead wrong there," she told her daughter. "I don't make big mistakes very often, but when I make them, they are awful. My worst mistake almost got Vicki Granger killed."

The teen's eyes went wide, shocked to hear that her ever-efficient mother could ever have made such a terrible mistake that it had put someone's life in danger.

"Everyone makes mistakes," Liv repeated gently. "And everyone was new once. Not everyone has the fortitude to keep going despite their mistakes, not everyone is stubborn or determined enough to push on and learn what they need to learn to fit in. But you are not everyone. You are a very special young lady, and you've survived the first week of your internship with the worst job they could have given you. It can only look up from here."

"You really think so?" Fliss asked, her head on Liv's shoulder as she hugged the bump affectionately. "You really think I should go back."

"I absolutely think you should go back," Liv insisted. "You're better than those others, and you've proved it by plowing through this week without a squeak of rebellion. I will bet you anything you like that at least one of those others will drop out of the program after one day of being a runner."

Fliss snorted with laughter, thinking of Marcus, with his slicked back hair and designer shoes. She could very easily imagine him dropping out after an hour of Mags' cheery, hectic company. "Well, next week does kind of look like more fun," she admitted, pulling her schedule out of her pocket.

Liv took it, reading over the list in front of her. "Looks like you'll get to do an awful lot more," she agreed. "Broadcast journalist ....so you'll be arranging the news programs, and if you make a good impression, you might be invited out to create a news report with the reporters." She smiled, handing back the paper as she kissed Fliss' golden hair. "I think you've done awfully well, sweetheart. I started out as a runner, after all."

"You did?" Fliss had never heard this before, lifting her head to look into her mother's grin incredulously.

"Mmhmm. At 21twelve Studios, I was one of about ten runners until Lelah Rivka chose me to be her personal assistant. And it was horrible."

The look on her face was so comical that Fliss burst out laughing, cuddling close to her mother. It was good to know that she wasn't alone in hating the lowest of the low job at the station, and to know that Mom had done it herself. After all, if her mother could do it, then she definitely could.

Maybe WHAM 101.1 wasn't so bad, after all.

Fliss

Date: 2015-08-07 14:05 EST
What a difference a week could make. At the end of last week, Fliss had been despondent, ready to throw in the towel and give up on the internship she'd been gotten into thanks to Yasmin herself. And yet now look at her, Liv thought to herself with a smile. Bouncing around, excited to go in each day, filled with stories about what she'd done and who she'd been with. It seemed as though broadcast journalist suited the fiery teen far better than being a runner had.

"So what happened then?" Liv heard her son, Alexei, asking, chuckling to herself as she peeked into the kitchen, where Fliss was making dinner with his help.

The teen grinned, nudging her little brother as he packed filo pastry parcels with the beef concoction they'd put together. "It was awesome," she told him cheerfully. "Like, you know, we spent a couple of hours in the morning putting together the news broadcasts and deciding what?s gonna get reported on and broadcast over the radio, and I've been doing that all week. Hey, they let me interview Caroline Granger - how cool is that?"

Alexei grinned. "Is she related to Jon?"

"She's one of his cousins, and she's in charge of all the GrangerGuild company stuff," Fliss explained to him. "She's like the queen of the textile industry on Rhy'Din. And they let me interview her! And not just that, I had to write the interview questions, and I had to write the introduction for the actual reporter, and the lead out, too. That whole report, dude, it's practically all me!"

And that wasn't all she'd been doing over the course of the week. The guy in charge of the journalism section at WHAM! 101.1FM had proved to be one of those minor genius guys who liked to share everything he knew and then some. Fliss, who hadn't had the first idea what a broadcast journalist did when she arrived, left the office for lunch on the first day with her mind buzzing, filled with new information and a genuine excitement about what the rest of the week held in store for her.

They'd taken things slowly, of course. The first couple of days, she had been heavily involved in the organizational side of things, putting together the news broadcasts and scripts, and helping to brainstorm in meetings. Then things had picked up - she'd been asked to call the Governor's Office to confirm details of a radio interview with one of the officers there, and to visit the place to scout out a suitable place where the interview could be conducted. Even better, she'd been thanked - thanked - for her efforts, and praised for the attention to detail that had resulted in an almost perfect recording space within one of the city's more official buildings.

The fourth day, she'd been given recording equipment and sent out with the news reporting team, doing everything from Vox Pops to recording a full report that was added into the very next bulletin. Not in front of the camera, of course, but the technical side of things had proved to be just as interesting. Especially when she'd thought she'd broken it. She'd been horrified by the sight of a red light holding steady on the side of the recorder, and despite her fear of being told off, had 'fessed up as soon as she could. The reporter had just smiled, and told her that the red light holding steady meant they were out of battery. All it needed was a quick change and reset. Just as Liv had told her - everyone makes mistakes. Not everyone handles them.

And then today ....well, Alexei was getting to lowdown while they cooked dinner together, only too happy to let his big sister gush excitedly at him about her frankly amazing day at the radio station. From her interview with Caroline Granger, to being allowed to monitor the run time of a bulletin in progress, to helping put together the rough-draft of the bulletins that could go out overnight ....it had been a busy, exciting day for Fliss, and she was more than happy to spread it around.

With any luck, she'd have finished talking by the time dinner was ready.

Fliss

Date: 2015-08-14 14:24 EST
Fingers flickered over the keypad of her phone. Dear God, I think I'm going to kill myself. Barely moments later, a reply flashed up. Only 2 hours. Melt her lipstick.

Fliss laughed to herself, tapping out an answer and putting the phone back in her pocket. If it hadn't been for Lucas constantly ready to reply to her texts this week, she might have started screaming. Her third week as an intern at WHAM! 101.1FM had found her manning the reception desk, freshly enthused after her week as a broadcast journalist.

It wasn't a difficult job, on the whole, although she'd had to dress significantly more smartly than she was used to. She was glad she'd listened to her mother's advice on that one, though - she'd been inspected from head to toe on Monday morning and pronounced suitable, with the implication that if she hadn't been, she might well have been sent home to change. But it made sense. The reception was the first thing people saw when they reached this level, and it gave off the first impression. No matter how panicked and exhausted the actual station's crew might be, the receptionist should look cool, calm, collected, and above all, well put together.

Looking right had been easy. Tolerating the woman who was her mentor for the week was not such an easy job. Trica was a bottle-blond elf, staving off the twilight of her life by pretending to be as human as possible. This apparently included platinum blond hair, perfectly coiffed; blood red lipstick, liberally applied at every opportunity she got; fake nails that could easily have passed for talons; and a series of designer business suits that were designed to show off a figure Fliss was willing to bet had been achieved by means of magic, surgery, or vast amounts of shapewear. Added to this was the assumption that Fliss could handle everything without needing to be told what to do, and a habit of sharing highly inappropriate details about her six life, as well as probing Fliss for any and all information about Johnny Storm, Jonathan Granger, and her own boyfriend.

Thank God for Liv and Johnny, that was all she could say. Her first day had been a series of disasters, thanks to Trica's insistence that she didn't need to be told anything. Everything from putting the wrong people through to the wrong departments, to not knowing whether a guest was expected or not, to being utterly befuddled by the filing system ....you name it, Fliss had done it wrong, though thankfully there had been no blow up dolls this time. On that first night, however, Johnny had weathered the storm of "I'm never going back, it's horrible" to calm her down and make her laugh about the ridiculous side of things, and Liv had talked her through what was, essentially, just a slightly down-scale version of her own job. Armed with new confidence and knowledge, Fliss had gone back the next day with considerably more patience.

Still, if it hadn't been for Lucas being right on the other end of her endless span of texts, photos, and illicit phone calls, she was quite certain she would have done something regrettable to her charming, but annoying-as-all-hell mentor over the course of the week. If Trica wasn't trilling her way through an appalling impression of a twenty-year-old human at her first job, she was inspecting her face in her hand-held mirror for signs of aging - which Fliss thought was very weird for an elf, but never mind. Still, she obviously had some good points; people who weren't trapped behind a desk with her all day evidently got the best of Trica - small doses of sweetness and charm. All day every day, it got cloying, fast.

But, as Lucas said, she only had to endure it another two hours, and if she got really desperately, she could always melt the lipstick again. That had been a very funny half hour the first time around, and the weather could, ostensibly, be blamed again. Still, the sooner she was away from the hell of admin - she sent out a silent apology to her mother for that thought - the better. Next week was calling to her.

Fliss

Date: 2015-08-21 16:36 EST
So this was what hell looked like.

It wasn't other people. It wasn't hordes of demons. It wasn't even being made to push a ball of stone up a hill for all eternity. It was a panicked broadcast assistant shoving headphones onto her head and pushing her bodily into the studio to thump into the guest chair while the DJ played for time.

Fliss looked over the console into the wide grin of DJ Ovaltine Jenkens and felt her stomach clench.

"And now, folks, we promised you a special guest, and we have one," the DJ announced into the microphone hovering inches from his nose. "It seems as though the head of the Rhy'Din Anti-Bullying Association couldn't make it, but we have here at the station a group of Rhy'Din's very own teens, interning for the summer. So let me introduce you to Felicity Storm, who has been shadowing our broadcasts this week. Fliss, great to have you on air!"

Fliss stared at him as he gestured wildly toward the microphone in front of her, and felt another stone drop heavily into her stomach. "Um ..." she ventured, not entirely sure if she was even loud enough for the microphone to pick up. "Hi?"

Ovaltine laughed to cover the awkward introduction, and got straight down to business. He did have a show to broadcast, after all. "So, Fliss - you mind if I call you Fliss" Great. Fliss, you're a teenager, you go to school here in Rhy'Din City. Tell the listeners about your experiences. Have you seen, or been involved in, any incidents of bullying?"

For a moment, she thought he was joking. But no, there was the frantic gesture toward the microphone again, and she realized she was going to have to say something. No one had said anything about being on air while she was shadowing the broadcast assistants!

"Uh ....Well, there isn't any bullying at my school, that I've seen," she offered nervously. "I mean, there was this one thing, when I first started, but everyone gives the new kid a hard time, don't they' It's not bullying unless it ....it keeps going."

"As I understand it, you're a pretty special girl," the DJ plunged on, despite this less than helpful offering. "Ever have any trouble because of it' Whatever it is you do?"

"What I do?" This was easier, she realized, if she ignored the console, the microphones, and the encouragingly insane smiles on the faces of the DJ and the assistant to just treat it like a conversation. A weird conversation, but still ...."I, uh, I can make fire, if that's what you mean."

"Make fire?" Ovaltine encouraged her to go on. "How do you do that?"

"Well, I ....It happens mostly when I get upset or angry," Fliss heard herself say, wondering why she was sharing this at all. There were hundreds of complete strangers listening to this! "Sparks kind of jump off my hair, and if I get really upset, my hands set themselves on fire. I don't get burned, though. My dad taught me how to control it."

"That's gotta make you a target for bullies, right?" Ovaltine was like a dog with a bone - the show was built around a guest who hadn't arrived, and he was going to keep Fliss on topic if it killed him.

"Well, I'm different, aren't I?" she shrugged. "Even to other people who have talents. And some people are scared of the things that make you different and they don't know how to handle it, so they try and get rid of the difference, even if it means hurting someone. I'm not going to say I haven't had any problems like that, but it's not like I go looking for trouble."

"Describe an incident that's happened to you for our listeners."

Fliss' amber eyes widened in shock. Specifics were not her strong point. "Uh ....I was walking home with my boyfriend, and a group of boys about our age were throwing stones at us, and calling us names," she managed, her voice shaking with nerves. "I mean, they do it every time we walk past, but that was bad. I kind of lost my temper and punched one of them, and I know I shouldn't have done that. It just makes me like them."

"Wise words, wise words," Ovaltine nodded, catching a gesture from the mixing desk behind the soundproofed glass. "Looks like we have some callers with burning questions for you, Fliss. Caller number one, you are on air!"

"Awesome! Hey, Fliss, you're on the radio! You're a star!"

At this, Fliss groaned, just about preventing herself from slamming her forehead into the desk in front of her. "Dad ..."

"Ice cream tonight! And a huge shout out to Liv, Alex, and Maria, and a hi to everyone from the Rhy'Din Fire Brigade! My daughter's famous!"

There was an audible click as Johnny - or whoever was with him - put the phone down, leaving Fliss cringing as DJ Jenkens snickered into his microphone.

"Not quite what we had in mind, but hey, it's a family show," he declared, flipping another switch. "Caller number two, what?s your name and what do you have to add to our discussion?"

"Yeah, hi, I'm Fred Sisman. I just wanted to say ....who the hell put a freak like her on the radio?" In the background, there was the sound of multiple voices laughing and egging the caller on.

Fliss' eyes narrowed. Before the DJ could intervene, she was speaking into her microphone. "Okay, Fred Sisman," she said. "What part of your brain thought that calling a radio show about bullying to reveal yourself as a bully with your full name was a good idea?"

"Uh ....wait. I'm not a -"

"How about we get the other side's perspective, Ovaltine, what do you think?" Fliss went on, pinning the DJ with a look that suggested that if he tried to switch callers now, he could kiss goodbye to a smooth end to his show today.

"Hell, why not?" the DJ declared, apparently intimidated by the little girl sitting on the other side of the console. "Fred, why don't you explain to us why you called in to insult Fliss on air" Was it your idea?"

There was a moment of hesitation from the other end of the line. "I didn't, it wasn't ....it was my friend's idea!"

"So maybe you should put your friend on the line and get them to explain" Get the bully's perspective in the middle of an actual incident, what do you say?"

"No, you talk to ....why do I have to keep doing it' You so owe me ....He doesn't want to."

"Back to you, then, Fred," Ovaltine continued. "In your own words, please. Why are you bullying our Fliss here?"

"I'm not bullying her, I'm just ....Look, she's got this fire thing, and it's really cool, and she doesn't even give us the time of day, you know" And her boyfriend, with the wings - they don't say hello to us in the street."

"That's because you yell "Hey freaks" to get our attention!" Fliss protested indignantly. "And you throw stones at us!"

"You burned off my eyebrows!"

"Because you insulted my dad, my boyfriend, and me, all in one breath!" she snapped back. "Anyway, I apologized the day after. I only meant to break your nose."

Behind the glass, the sound mixer was laughing into his coffee cup. This was much better than a dry discussion from adults about teenaged bullying. Across the console, Ovaltine was having similar problems keeping a straight face.

"So, let me get this straight," he attempted to interject some calm into the debate. "Fred, you just want Fliss and her boyfriend to say hi and maybe become your friend, right' Did you not think that maybe introducing yourself politely might work better in your favor than insults and stones?"

"Well ....when you put it like that ..."

"Fred, do you fancy Fliss?" the DJ asked, ignoring the shocked horror on the face of said teenager across from him at the question. "Is that what this is about' You want her to notice you, but you don't want her to know you like her, so you're acting like a pig with a rocket up its ass instead?"

"..." And there was the click that signaled the end of that call in.

"Well, that answers that question," Ovaltine chuckled. "Fliss, do you have any last words on the subject before we take a break?"

"Actually ....yeah, I do."

Surprising herself, Fliss adjusted her seat, leaning into the microphone. "Being different doesn't make you less of a person. A lot of us can't control that thing about us that makes us different to everyone else. It's like the color of your eyes or your hair - you can't control it, but most people wouldn't dream of making you a target for insults and pain just because you're blond, or just because you happen to have grey eyes. I get that sometimes the differences are scary. Knowing that the person sitting next to you could set fire to something at random, that's a scary thing. But here's the thing ....it scares them, too. They don't want to hurt you anymore than you wanna get hurt, and isolating them, making them feel even more different, it doesn't help. So how about, instead of calling someone you know nothing about a freak, how about you shake their hand, say hello, and find out about the person they are. I'm not fire. My boyfriend isn't a pair of wings. We're people, who just happen to have something else to deal with along with all the other crap that comes with being a teenager. So don't be ass, all right' You'll feel better with us on your side than against you, I guarantee it."

There was a brief pause as Ovaltine let that sink in, making sure Fliss was finished before he spoke up again. "Thank you very much, Felicity Storm, for your unexpected guest spot today. I hope it's helped you guys out there who struggle with these things come to terms with what?s happening on your side of the fence. Here's Amy Studt, with Misfit."

As the music played in, Fliss sagged in the chair, barely aware of the praise from across the console at her performance with only a minute's notice. No, she'd been right the first time. That had been hell. But also ....kind of fun.

Fliss

Date: 2015-08-29 08:16 EST
What image came to mind when she thought of a recording studio' Before the beginning of the week, Fliss had been absolutely certain it was a single soundproofed booth with a massive mixing desk outside it. Turned out that a recording studio in a radio station was a hive of activity, and it definitely wasn't just one booth big.

There was the studio where the pre-recorded shows were put together. That was made up of several sound-proofed booths with link ups that allowed the actors inside to hear one another via their headphones and act out scenes in their play as though they were on a stage together. That track would be spliced together with all the other tracks to make up the suitable broadcast, but before that could happen, the whole thing was handed over to the Foley artists, who would spend hours in the same booths, recreating realistic background sound to give the whole thing a more believable depth. They were fascinating to watch, and entertaining, too - since Fliss could make fire, they'd recorded the sound of the flames crackling over her fingers, and then played both that track and their own which simulated fire with crackling cellophane, to the producer. She'd been genuinely delighted when the producer had declared that the cellophane sounded more like "real" fire.

But that was just the start of the recording studio's role. Some of the shows were comedy and didn't work with a laugh track, so they had a larger studio space with seating for thirty people in the audience. The actors performed into one or two microphones set on a muted stage at the front; the Foley artists were set up behind the largest collection of props Fliss had ever seen in order to perform the sounds and sound effects as the recording took place. Every laugh from the audience was picked up as the play went along, giving it more depth than a show with added laugh track.

Around mid-week, Fliss found out how the radio managed to get its hands on so many singles and albums weeks before they were released. They rented out their studio space when it wasn't in use, together with the talents of their sound directors, and a good many local bands used the radio's recording booths to lay down their tracks. It was amazing to see one of the bands she'd admired for a few years wander into one of the studios, set up, and spend the whole day laying down just one song. She'd never realized quite how perfectionist a recording artist had to be in order to get just one song ready for release.

Every day had brought something new to look at and learn. Fliss had shadowed the sound directors and assistants, helping them with mixing levels on the various shows, learning how to talk to already overwrought actors. She'd worked with the Foley artists to the point where she had listened to a broadcast show with her parents purely so she could point out which set of footsteps was hers. She'd helped to host the band who had come in; she'd welcomed in audiences; she'd run new lines to the actors just minutes before they got up to perform. There hadn't been a single day when she'd been shadowing the recording studios when she'd been bored, or felt out of her depth. The entire department was all about team work, and they made sure she felt a part of their team.

There was no way in hell next week was going to compare.