“Money doesn’t buy happiness. But happiness isn’t everything.”
Jean Seberg
1938 – 1979
“Money doesn’t buy happiness. But happiness isn’t everything.”
Jean Seberg
1938 – 1979
Rowan (Eli) Pope: How many times did I tell you?! You have to be what?!
Olivia Pope: Twice as good as them to get a half of what they have.
Scandal, Season 3, Episode 1
The Frustrated CFO's Comment:
I'm not placing this excerpt into quotation marks. First of all, it's not an exact citation – on screen it gets all broken up, because the characters interrupt each other with anger, frustration, exasperation, and all other similar feelings; Eli is yelling, and Liv is sort of shudders and attempts to shy away - all those over-the-top dramatics and stuff. More importantly, though, it's not an original phrase. Shonda Rhimes, who actually penned this episode herself, is brilliantly entertaining, but she didn't come up with this maxim. Many African-American journalists, bloggers, and celebrities commented on its wide-spread popularity in their families and communities. Some even tried to date it – 70s, 50s…
The truth is, however, this concept doesn't belong exclusively to black people of the United States. In fact, everywhere around the world similar formulas are spoken in different languages to bright and promising children who will have to spend their lives jumping over the barriers raised in front of them for no other reason than their minority status: Kurds in Turkey, Chinese in Indonesia, Hui in China, Indians in Uganda, Rohingyas in Burma, Jews and Gypsies wherever they are, etc., etc., etc.
Furthermore, the applicability of this mandate goes way beyond race and ethnicity. The same mantra is adapted as a way of life by every marginalized overachiever even in our blessed land we call "Free Country:" women going into "men's" professions; immigrants with strong accents attempting to climb corporate ladders; members of LGBT community trying to get a job outside of the fashion and the entertainment industries; overweight and deformed individuals applying for any position; young talented people without connections trying to break into especially nepotistic fields – the list is long.
Growing up a Jewish girl in one of the most anti-Semitic of European countries, I was barred from many professional careers and life opportunities. And in those that were permissible, someone like me had one chance in a thousand. My personal slogan was even more maximal: I had to be the best just to get in. Was I able to completely shake off the disenfranchised complex after nearly three decades in America? Fat chance! For starters, I'm a woman…
In the TV business, summer traditionally has been considered an off-season. Primarily because the broadcast networks' prime series go on a 4-month hiatus after completing their 20+ episode seasons. Nowadays, of course, it's not all that relevant for TV viewers, because… Well, for multiple reasons, really, but to name a few:
First of all, if you prefer edgier premium cable series, your TV viewing patterns are driven by 2-3 month seasons scheduled at different times throughout the year: Shameless airs January through March, Game of Thrones and Silicon Valley - April -June, Masters of Sex – July-September, Homeland – October-December, etc. Even if you are into blending your TV cocktail out of cable and broadcast ingredients, you most likely use on-demand and DVR options to accommodate your personal schedules and to fill the airing gaps. Plus, some broadcast networks now have "summer shows" – short-seasoned and "limited" series aired specifically to cover the off-season void: Hannibal, Wayward Pines, Under the Dome, Aquarius, etc.
The most important factor, however, is that we've stopped being restricted by conventional TV ever since Netflix came along. First, they made the idea of going to video stores and looking for something to watch unnecessary. We were so grateful for digital searching, online ordering, and USPS drop-ins and drop-offs. But then even walking to the mailbox became unnecessary, because they made a tremendous volume of content available for IP streaming, including rare and obscure movies, shows, documentaries, anime, etc. from all over the world!
They didn't stop there either - they got into creating their own original programming. And then Amazon followed suit! As a result, we got access to gems that make me feel as if I am living through some sort of an indie renaissance via the Internet: House of Cards, Orange Is the New Black, Peaky Blinders, Grace and Frankie, Sense8 (Netflix originals), Transparent and Mozart in the Jungle (Amazon's originals). It's fucking incredible!
Moreover, not only that streaming content is available everywhere you can go online, it's available in whole seasons. There is no waiting for weeks at a time until the next episode; no mid-season separation anxiety; no loss of vital details from previous weeks. Technically you can watch a 12-episode season in one day. It is my understanding that some people actually do that.
Netflix had at their hands the best market-testing sample imaginable – their entire subscription base. They must've noticed early on that a large percentage of the viewing population doesn't restrict itself to one episode at a time. They even installed a special probe at the start of the third consecutively watched episode to test whether you are actually binging or have simply fallen asleep on your couch. Brilliant!
Yes, binging – as in excessive indulgence, as in manifestation of addictive personality traits. Not a new thing, really. TV networks (USA especially) have been scheduling rebroadcasting marathons since the 80s. By offering this opportunity to audiences with pretty much any kind of preferences, Netflix forever altered the cultural lives of millions of people.
The phenomenon itself became a marketing tool for Netflix's competitors, who want you to know that you can replicate this experience with them as well: This summer, Amazon actually used the phrase "binge on your favorite shows for free" in its promotional messages for Premium subscriptions. HBO, still holding onto their highbrow status, softens it by offering you to "feast" on your past and present favorite shows on HBO GO.
Poor David Foster Wallace warned, way before streaming had become a household concept, that Television is the one and only true American addiction. He predicted that catering to user demand for content of their choice whenever and wherever they wanted it (remember the "direct dissemination"?) may irrevocably alter us and potentially result in the crumbling of human will.
But who am I to judge? Yes, my life is too busy for hardcore binging and I refuse to watch an episode of anything on my goddamned iPhone, but I've been taking advantage of on-demand entertainment ever since it was first introduced by American cable providers 15 years ago. Then came iTunes 6.0 (2005). Today – Netflix, Amazon Prime, Hulu Plus, HBO Go, Showtime Anytime – I've got them all, including a Fire Stick to carry them with me wherever I go.
But that was not the topic of this post, was it? (Too bad you cannot hear me laughing at myself.) This was meant to be a brief introduction to the shocking fact that, even with all that variety of quality entertainment on hand, at some point in July I found myself with my personal TV time-slot empty. And let me tell you, that made it hard to ignore the binging and feasting callings of the content pushers.
I browsed the variety of offerings and ended up with The Good Wife on Amazon Prime. It used to be one of the shows I watched during its active seasons – all the way through the middle of Season 4. But then, 2013 announced its arrival to Netflix with their first two major originals, plus Top of the Lake, plus The Fall, the first season of Broadchurch, etc., etc. I'm a busy woman – something had to go. Now I picked up where I left off.
I have to admit, assuming you manage not to paralyze your life or degrade your mental and motoric agility, watching multi-season, multi-episode shows without gaps measured in weeks and months has its undeniable benefits. Complex and intricate storytelling loses some of its power when it's broken up into weekly installments and then gets shelved away for 4 or more months. Reducing these gaps not only allows for a more detail-oriented viewing, it also gives you an opportunity to assess the show's merits and values in a more coherent way.
Aside from the most obvious and well acknowledged attributes of The Good Wife - strive for realism; acute attention to the impact of technology on our lives; honest depiction of shifting morality; head-on tackling of race, class, gender, sex, and all other divides - what I like the most about the show is its refusal to label itself as a single genre. We can definitely identify it as a Drama, but the range of applicable modifiers is quite long – family, political, crime, legal, courtroom.
But what I realized while watching seasons 4 through 6 now, was that in it's wardrobe full of genres, The Good Wife's favorite outfit was the Workplace Drama. One law firm, another law firm, State's Attorney's office, governor's office, clients' businesses (including a drug-distribution organization), you name it - all of them are depicted as places of employment. And the human relationships inside these businesses play essential roles in the show's storytelling. The office politics, alliances, squabbles, hiring, firing, promotion, compensation, peers' competition, subordination, fraternizing, partnerships, resignations, harassment, even telecommuting - all of them have been used as plot points.
Once I started noticing, I've found so many typical and easily recognizable Human Resources issues, it was hard to pick the following ten:
But the most valuable life lesson one should take away from The Good Wife is that you should never ever burn all the bridges and cut all the ties, because you never know with whom you may need to partner next.
On Saturday, August 22nd, internationally famous British street artist and social rebel Banksy declared his latest project Dismaland open to the public.Â
I’ve noticed that many commentators rushed to label the large-scale art installation dystopian, but I tend to disagree. Dystopia is an imaginary place where everything is scary and bad. But Banksy’s mini “park” in Weston-super-Mare (UK) is an artistic re-imagining of a fairy-tale theme park in the harsh light of our miserable reality. From what I’ve seen, instead of saying, “Imagine if everything was horrible,” the site screams, “Take off your pink glasses and see the horrors around you. Look in the mirror and see who you are.”
While Dismaland is basically a collective art show (50 artists in total) and Banksy himself contributed only 10 pieces of his own into the mix, it is first and foremost his aesthetic concept, his political declaration, his social commentary. And even if you never bothered yourself with an interpretive analysis of art and know very little about this artist and his work, as long as you know something you most likely know that
Knowing this makes it hard to resist a thought that, regardless of the artistic merits and social significance of the individual pieces inside, a stationary installation with a six-week limited run and a daily allotment of only 2000 tickets priced at a laughable ÂŁ3 is Banksy’s latest experiment in human behavior. His name itself is a perfect sensationalistic stimulus required to initiate the chain reaction ripe with observational material. He already knows what an attraction he is – his 2009 Banksy vs. Bristol Museum show was attended by 300,000 people in 12 weeks.
It started immediately. As soon as Dismaland’s site came to life the day before yesterday, 6 million people attacked it trying to pre-book the admission tickets; crushing the site. We cannot know what proportion of these people were scalpers, but a few tickets (most likely fake) are being offered on eBay for $700. (It’s worth noting that the “park” would have to stay open for over 8 years to accommodate 6 million people).
Now that the online ticketing is disabled (supposedly temporarily – until Tuesday), people are queuing in person and there are definite reports of ticket hopefuls camping out around the site. Of course, it is only the second day of the show, but it is easy to imagine that the number of campers will only increase.Â
For those of us who stayed for hours and sometimes days in front of museums just to get in, or concert venues to win a place by the stage, it is easy to envision further developments: lists organized by orderly art-lovers, marks on hands, attempts to join a “party of friends” upfront, offers to buy someone’s place for an exorbitant amount of money, yelling matches, and fist fights.Â
Things like that happen around events that only last for a few hours. This one will be open for six weeks. So, those with the especially strong propensity for an escalation of commitment may be there for days upon days with limited access to food and hygiene – dirty, unfed, angry, and semi-violent “art lovers.”  Â
Remember? Dismaland is an absurd version of a Disney park and the most dismal part of a Disney experience is the lines. Recreating that in an extreme way is an art piece of its own right. Every single person trying to get in becomes a part of Banksy’s art project and even more so when they finally get inside and start wandering among the attractions.
So, ask yourself: Do you want to be a part of Banksy’s social experiment? It’s up to you to decide whether it’s more important to attend and be a subject in it, to watch from the sidelines through media, or to purposely not engage. Banksy’s Cinderella’s Castle centerpiece seems to be asking the question – what will it take for people to look away?
Acknowledgement:Â Special thanks to Y.A. Crow for invaluable advice and inspiring editing
Some topics simply cannot let you be. They are just way too potent. For example, some time ago, in Part I of my Arts & Entertainment by the Numbers series, I already addressed the matter of earnings one can expect to generate if he or she decides to become a “writer.” If you recall, it was established that, with a few exceptions primarily driven by seductive (literally) subjects, or notoriety (oh, I am sorry – fame) of the authors, or some magical (again, literally) mass appeal, there is not much money in writing.Â
Of course, I didn’t talk about ALL “writing.” That post was focused on books, both fictional and not – the self-contained multi-page opuses that come into public distribution through more or less conventional channels, which in our contemporary world include not only the old-fashioned publishing houses, but also self-publishing (including web-publishing) and on-demand-printing. The latter have been pretty much commandeered by our ubiquitous mega-villains, Amazon and Google. Â
Surprisingly, the vast majority of books are still printed and bound; and pretty much all of them are digitized as AZW, EPUB, IBA, PDF, etc. publications.  From my personal experience I can tell you that royalties on e-books, being profitability based, are actually much higher than on the printed copies. As you can imagine, distribution of files costs a fraction of physical printing, shipping, etc.
Of course, books are not the only products of the “writing” professionals.  I fitted playwrights into Theater and screenwriters into Movies. And I didn’t want to discuss the earnings of conventional journalists, not only because I am really appalled by the contemporary standards of that trade, but also because there is nothing particularly special about their compensation. It’s basically a pay scale – no different than the one for any back-office workers.   Â
According to the latest data from the Bureau of Labor Statistics, an average reporter or a correspondent makes about $21 per hour, or $43,780 a year. Of course, those working in publications with household names, especially in DC or NYC, or at cable and broadcasting venues, earn above average. But even then we are talking $53K-$60K annual salaries. Nothing glamorous.
If famous faces of Barbara Walters, or Katie Couric, or Matt Lauer pop into your head, stop it – those people might’ve started as journalists early in their career, but that’s not what they are now – through some peculiar twists in their fates they’ve become multimillion-dollar TV personalities with roomfuls of staff who do the actual work and get paid what I said above. Moreover, as far as I am concerned, the professional comedians Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert, Bill Maher, and John Oliver turned out to be much better newsmen than all those other smiley faces.          Â
But forget all that! The remarkable thing about our electronically permeated era (as far as the writing is concerned, of course), is that the majority of the “written” words nowadays floats in the realm of computer codes; resides on some servers in the unknown to the authors locations. The vast majority of that majority is motivated into existence by a singular intangible incentive – the writer’s desire to verbally express his/her opinions and ideas; it’s produced for no material reward at all.
This includes over 10,000,000 (that’s 10 million!) individual and collective blogs, which produce over 4,000,000 (and that’s 4 million!)  posts every day (hence, my utter surprise that my own humble entries are consistently found and read by people from different countries); online fiction publications; fan-fiction entries into various pop-culture Wikias, unpaid entries (in hopes of exposure) into a multitude of e-zines, etc., etc. It’s all created for no pay and mostly available for free (if you don’t count the unbearable assault of advertising on more popular sites as your cover charge – I do). Â
And even those who appear to be writing not on spec but on assignment or write on spec but get syndicated, possibly generating fees and royalties for their digital words at such giant contentmongers as, for example, The Huffington Post – nobody seems to know for sure how much money they make. Well, people close to the subject probably have some scattered bits and pieces of information, but it’s so sparse and inconsistent, it’s impossible to draw any solid conclusions. In fact, the aforementioned Bureau of Labor Statistics simply gives up on the matter, basically admitting that the new media is so, ahem, new that there are no set rates and no correspondent statistics.   Â
But I am not an official government agency – I am just a curious person armed with my common sense and capable of making logical conclusions. Moreover, I have the freedom to extrapolate, speculate, and infer. And infer I shall.   Â
The first fundamental truth about online presence is that the majority of people religiously believe in its powers of publicity. Hence, the said number of blogs, shameless exhibitionism of facebook pages and personal sites, endless YouTube videos, etc., etc. – general population thinks that if anybody can “be found” today, it will be online. A few miraculous stories of the Internet exposure actually leading to “fame” only reinforces this belief. (And the sea of content is growing exponentially, if you catch my drift – but that’s another topic). In context of our subject this makes me think that those who get published in popular online outlets agree to do so for next to nothing, i.e. for much less than even conventional writers get.
The second fundamental characteristic of the Internet itself as a business is that the majority of revenues generated by non-eCommerce websites, if any, come from online advertising, at least for now (I think this situation is going to change, but that’s, again, another topic). Advertisers, just like the general public, have their own system of the Internet faith – the click-per-view conversion. In the web environment, the old admen rule of placement for the maximum consumer impact gets a statistical dress-up: a certain number of views results in a click on the ad’s link; a certain number of clicks, in its turn, converts into a consumer acquisition, i.e. a sale. Everyone is invested into the same idea: the more views, the more clicks, the more sales; hence, the popular pay-per-click pricing formula. As a result, the online content is monetarily valued on its potential viewership.Â
This made me think that the most logical way for an owner of a content-driven website to compensate a contributing writer would be based on some rate-per-view (just like YouTube with its videos). The question is how much? What’s the digitally published word worth? Apparently, even Labor Statistics officials don’t know – most likely because reporting those earnings is still a gray area.   Â
Ah, but that’s what the Internet is actually for – the information superhighway. If something piques your interest and you know how to formulate your search, you will find what you need: like the large UK blogging hub on everything pop WhatCulture.com (they are absolutely right – they have nothing to do with Culture, concentrating primarily on blockbusters and gossip in film, big hits and gossip in TV, mega stars and gossip in music, plus gaming, sports, WWE).Â
The site’s content model is based on accepting (not guaranteed) and publishing other people’s submissions.  On their Write For Us and Get Paid page they openly solicit material from the potential contributors (Lists! Lists! Lists! That’s their preferred format – “9 Reasons to Be Excited About Arrested Development Season 5” or “10 Actors Who Really Don’t Belong in the Upcoming Movies” and shit like that). Therefore, the “get-paid” rate is openly disclosed right there: ÂŁ0.40 ($0.62) per 1,000 views.Â
Aha! With that in hand, let us entertain ourselves with some arithmetical exercising:  Yesterday, the most-read entry in the film section of WhatCulture.com was “10 Things You Need to Know About Captain America: Civil War” – it had 1.3 million views, thus generating its author $806. Not bad, assuming he put it together pretty quickly.  Theoretically speaking, if you can pop one of this every day, 5 days a week, 52 weeks a year, you can actually earn $210K annual wage!Â
But the probability of it, of course, is quite slim – not only because no one on their own can research and write 260 entries a year, but mainly because it’s hard to achieve such viewership: for example, the most read TV article had only 223 thousand views ($138.26) and the top one in a deeply hidden Art division (the only one in the whole site I personally found interesting – 10 Up and Coming Portrait Photographers) attracted exactly 2000 readers ($1.32 worth). The audience’s interest is fickle.Â
This site is big and popular – the effort of a full-scope statistical analysis goes beyond my level of interest (I am sure the management has all the numbers readily available to them), but my quick-glance conclusion is that the average views per post is about 50,000 or $31 value.  So, ladies and gentlemen, even if you can do three of those a week, the more realistic earnings would be a modest amount of $4,836 per year. Â
I say, don’t quit your day job for this just yet – that is, of course, if you have one.