One Year of Reality and How It Nearly Killed Me: My Life Behind the Scenes (3 page)

That last accusation was infuriating. Bert was talking about a former producer on the show who was supposedly getting confidential information from me about our show. He had already worked on the show previously so I couldn’t have revealed anything that he didn’t already know. And the only time I had spoken to this producer was to recommend a friend for a job. She had worked with him for a few years, but while I was working at
Wild Things
, my friend and I barely spoke, mostly because I had wanted to avoid being accused of giving away private information to her, which is exactly what Bert thought was happening anyway. Knowing how paranoid Bert could be, I had sacrificed a friendship to allay his fears which was futile. When Mark told me this, I immediately barged into Bert’s office, mad as hell.

He was in a good mood that day. Everything was going well. After three years, we had all fallen into some sort of routine, and the filming was going
smoothly. It was toward the end of the final season, and I think he was looking forward to taking a break or doing another show. But I was quick to ruin his good mood.

“I hear I’m on some list?” I told him. He was shocked. I recounted the story that Mark had told me, and I said, “I’ve lost a friendship because I’ve tried to make sure that I did nothing that would upset you, so whatever list I’m on, remove me, immediately. It’s wrong and I won’t stand for it.”

He assured me that I had nothing to worry about, that I was definitely not on some list. I walked away, happy that I’d said something but annoyed that he hadn’t owned up to what he’d told Mark. I felt like I had just burned a bridge.

CHAPTER 2

NOT ONLY AMAZING,
BUT A MIRACLE

E
ven though there were a lot of shaky moments, hot heads, screaming sessions, equipment failures, lack of sleep, and the occasional vendetta,
Wild Things
was a great experience. I learned so much about the world and made some incredible, long-lasting friendships. The job gave me the chance to become an integral part of an international show and learn a great deal about getting into countries, dealing with political systems, and calculating exchange rates.

I was now hooked on the reality production drug.

I’m still a user. It’s a highly addictive and intoxicating drug, with tremendous highs and horrible lows. I am on a high when I’m in the middle of chaos; fixing problems, trying to manage budgets, huge mishaps, and anything else that might come my way. I think of it as slaying a dragon. It’s a total adrenaline rush. The tremendous lows come when nothing is happening. When you’re too exhausted to think or when you aren’t able to fix the problem. The lows are incredibly frustrating because you want to be in that rush, but something’s blocking your way, as if a policeman has pulled you over for going 100 mph in a 30 mph zone. Nothing is worse than not being able to solve a large problem and having to walk into your boss’s office with bad news. Then everything calms down and the cycle begins again.

It was truly exciting to be up all night fixing things, and then come into the office to work on the next shoot and solve emergencies. There is a rush in solving problems and overcoming stressful situations that gives you a real boost of confidence and accomplishment. So it was sad when the show ended, but we had heard that there was only going to be three seasons, so it wasn’t a shock.

Once the show was over, it felt like I had finished a sprint. I was tired, but I wanted to run another race. It was such a great and challenging experience, and I knew nothing would ever compare to it. Regardless of my relationship with Bert, I was truly going to miss working on his show. His vision and his excitement had made
Wild Things
great, and I enjoyed buying into the whole package. And even though he had supposedly wanted me fired, I was the only original production person who had remained on the show for all three seasons, so that had to mean something. To this day, I keep in touch with many of my colleagues from the show, and it’s cool to see their names on other shows, or to see them grow in their own careers as producers or storytellers.

After the show ended, I started to look for work again, something I hadn’t done in three years. It was incredibly different. I did land a couple of jobs, but they didn’t compare. The production drug wasn’t the same; it wasn’t working. The problems were not as complicated and it seemed almost too easy to work on anything else. I realized that
Wild Things
wasn’t going to be replicated in terms of the adrenaline rush. I needed to kick the drug or find a different kind of challenge.

A few months had passed, and then I received a call out of the blue. Imagine my surprise when Bert was on the other end of the line. I was shocked!

He was very jovial, joking and talking about a show he was going to do. He said he was looking to put some of the old gang back together. I told him that I was working, but that I’d be happy to speak to him as the show came together. It was a great conversation! And I was flattered that he had actually called me. Of course I thought about the conversation way too much, and analyzed the five-minute phone call over and over. I felt that all the work I had put into
Wild Things
was now positively justified, that he really did like me and appreciate my work, and that perhaps Mark had been playing some sort of bizarre practical joke on me. Since I hadn’t ever heard Bert tell me he wanted me fired or didn’t like me, then he must actually like and respect me, right? The call made my day, and I had to call Laura, the accountant on
Wild Things
, and let her know.

In the meantime, I stayed where I was and continued to build the staff. One position I had to hire was an editor. And as things go, I looked for recommendations. The one person who kept coming up was someone I’d worked with on
Wild Things
, Eli.
I ended up hiring him—he was funny and personable and a great fit for the position. Unfortunately, the show made some stylistic changes, and I bowed out because I felt that it would be better served by a producer who had more experience with films and commercials. So I left after staffing the show with many of my wildlife show colleagues. I don’t believe in hanging around if you don’t think you have the resources to do a good job. I didn’t have another job to go to, so I wasn’t jumping ship for a better gig, I just didn’t want to do something for several months that was so out of my league. I felt that it was the best thing for me and for the show. But I was satisfied to know that I’d left it in good hands, and that the staff I had assembled would do a good job.

While I was looking for another job, I got a call from Bert again. This time he wanted to meet with me. This was very well timed. His office was in a really cool building that’s hidden away on the west side of Los Angeles, in a place you wouldn’t think a really cool building would be. It was impressive. I did the usual interview things—I dressed up, arrived ten minutes early, and waited for a few minutes. I was playing the getting-a-job game. I figured that I had a good shot since I had already worked with Bert. He explained that it would be an international race around the world, and it sounded very exciting. It
tapped into my desire to be on another crazy international show.

I figured that there would be more money since it was a network show, so I wanted to see about negotiating a better deal. The only time I’d ever made a play for more money was with
Wild Things
. I was a lousy negotiator for myself, and I pretty much took what was offered for a lot of reasons—I didn’t have enough experience to garner more money; I was convinced the production company didn’t have enough in their budget to afford me; and I was never in a position
not
to take a job. I was afraid that if I turned down work or stood my ground, I’d be unemployed, and I didn’t have enough money stashed away for that eventuality. Essentially I am the first person in line to shoot myself in the foot. No one else needs to do it for me.

Finally Bert’s assistant took me upstairs to the conference room. Then Bert told me about his show. It was international, a lot of the same people would be working on it, and it was confidential. Again, I was swept away by the grandness of his vision. The show would be structured very much like
Wild Things
in terms of crew, countries, and travel. I totally wanted to do it. I could tell that I would be back among friends in a challenging, thrill-a-minute environment, and I
couldn’t ask for anything more. I would be back on the production drug in no time, solving problems and making the impossible possible.

While regaling me with all the possibilities of the show, he threw a zinger in the middle of his monologue. I didn’t realize it until after the interview, and even then I dismissed it, but the sentence would come back to haunt me. He said, “All of this needs to be confidential.
I know how you can talk
…”

There it was, the zinger. I thought nothing of it, except that his idea was very hush-hush, and he didn’t want anyone to hear about it. I said, “No problem.” He thanked me for coming, and told me he’d be in touch. When I was driving home, that last strange line ran through my head a few times, but I let it go.

I didn’t hear back from Bert or his assistant.

I did hear from Terry, the new guy, who happened to be the executive in charge. I did not know him, but I had heard of him, as he’d worked on another show across the street from
Wild Things
. I would often go over to the set where he worked and played an after-hours poker game with some of the staff on his show. I knew he had been a production manager, so the fact that he was an exec in charge
now meant that he’d made the step up. My connections told me that he’d been recommended by another friend and was very good to work with. I met with him, but before we could speak to each other, I had to sign a confidentiality agreement pledging not to discuss the show with anyone. We proceeded to have a very weird conversation. I found out that he had already hired another production manager and quite a few other people. And then I was smacked with another zinger, quite similar to the first.

“I hear two things about you. That you are great and I should hire you,
but the negative is that I know how you talk about your crew.”

That was a hit out of left field that I hadn’t been expecting. How I talk about my crew? Hmmmm. He was hesitant to hire me for that reason. I could only respond with something like, “I’m not sure what you mean, but if you mean that I openly assessed the abilities of the crew of
Wild Things
and spoke frankly with the executive producer, my other boss, and the other production managers, then that would be true. But anything that was ever discussed about a crew member, I was sure to say to him or her as well, so I didn’t go behind anyone’s back… If that’s what you’re talking about.” I was completely honest with people about why they weren’t coming back or what
problems were going on, whether it was a personality issue or something else.

I felt that there had to be a lot of conversations going on about me behind my back, and I was trying to figure out why. I met with Bert figuring that I had the job because he was the guy in charge. After all, he was the executive producer, and clearly (in my mind) he had recommended me. Now I was being considered for the second production manager position, and it seemed as though Bert wanted Terry to choose his own team. So my hopes of having a leg up were dashed. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect anymore.

I was also afraid that I wasn’t even going to be a production manager. Though I was being interviewed for a position
titled
Production Manager, the job description seemed to be more in line with a travel coordinator. I told Terry my rate, which he said was too high. He told me that I would have to come down a bit if I wanted the job. I agreed, figuring that one season on this high profile show would be good experience for me. At this point, the game had changed for me. I was no longer the “Diva of Production.”

And then he told me that he’d hired Philip, whom I knew from
Wild Things
, as a production
manager who was on the show for only a few months as we wrapped up season one.

Oh man, that was the best news I could have heard. If I had to be second banana to anyone, it would be Philip. When I worked with him on
Wild Things
, we had a great time. Everyone liked Philip because he was easy to get along with and had high standards and a good sense of humor. We were always kidding around with each other with verbal sparring and trying to one-up each other. I’d work with him again in a heartbeat.

Even with Philip on board, it was definitely a blow to find out that there were two Production Managers, and I was the afterthought. Stupid, ego-driven thoughts started to whizz through my head. The sort of self-destructive mental talk that could ruin a person’s career was exactly what I didn’t need at this point. Basically, I was thinking that I should’ve been picked first, after all I was the EP’s choice, and I deserved at least some kudos for years of loyalty on the job. As quickly as I had these thoughts, I shrugged them off, knowing that Philip and I respected each other, and would enjoy working together.

I lit up and said, “He’s great. I love him, and can’t wait to work with him!” Terry looked puzzled by my
response, and then pleased. Even so, I still wasn’t sure I was going to get the job. I left the interview befuddled and disappointed.

But I got the call about a couple of weeks later. The job was mine if I wanted it.

I was excited. I didn’t care I was making a little less than I wanted. I was going to work with many of the same people from
Wild Things
. I believed that I was going to experience the same euphoric and tough schedule that I’d had the last time I worked on a show for Bert, and that this show would be just as memorable as the first.

A couple of people that I had been in touch with knew that I was on the show, and they asked me to put their names up. I did, and it felt good that they were hired. Eli happened to be one of them and I was thrilled that he’d be working on the show. Everything seemed to be falling into place. Philip was living overseas at the time and was moving back to the States to work on
Amazing Race
. So to see him again was wonderful. It was like old times.