Free Unscripted by Natalie Aaron and Marla Schwartz Page B

guy. Just take it slow is all I’m saying, okay?”
    Nancy quietly exhales. I’m not sure if she’s angry with Stephanie, or resigned to the fact that Stephanie might have a point. Ever since I’ve known Nancy, she’s been the type of girl who rushes into things head first, without considering the consequences until later. She says it’s because she’s a free spirit. Stephanie says it’s because she’s a nut. A loveable nut. But a nut, nevertheless.
    “I’ll take it slow, don’t worry,” Nancy says half-heartedly.
    “Well, I have some news,” Stephanie says as she confidently lifts up her chin. “This is going to be my last show.”
    “Did you get a job at a network or something?” I ask.
    “No, I’m done with production. I’m done with television. I’m getting out.”
    Although I have a mouth full of bread, my jaw drops at the shock of this breaking news. I never imagined I would hear those words coming from Stephanie. She’s a fast-talking, one-of-the-guys kind of producer. That’s why she always has her next job lined up, and why she can boast the best references in town.
    Stephanie starts to slather an entire packet of butter on a piece of bread. “The thing is, I don’t have health insurance. No retirement account. I’m always hustling to get the next gig. And I’m sick and tired of working nights and weekends. I feel like I work in a sweatshop sometimes. And for what? A piece of shit show that will be forgotten and replaced a month after it airs? No thanks. And if I’m not willing to work those hours, you bet your ass someone else is. They’re hiring kids straight out of college, and they’re getting promotions left and right. One day this kid’s a researcher—the next day he’s a fucking producer. So, if I refuse to work the long hours, the execs know I can easily be replaced by these little shits who are desperate to get into the business and don’t give a crap about the horrible work conditions.”
    Stephanie takes an enormous bite out of her bread, signaling to us that she’s finished with her tirade. Nancy and I look at each other sheepishly, having absolutely nothing to add. We both know Stephanie’s right. It’s one of those glaringly obvious problems in reality TV that I’ve never wanted to address, because every time I try to think about what else I could possibly do, I get nauseous.
    This job definitely has an expiration date. Five years, ten years, who knows, but there’s no future here for me either. And to make matters worse, my options are severely limited. For futuresecurity, I could try moving to the network side, where at least I’d have things like a 401k and benefits but everyone wants to do that. What I’m qualified to do exactly, well, that’s a mystery.
    The other option, my dream option, would be to open my own production company and sell TV shows. I’d still have to work hard, of course, but it would be for something I created. But it just seems so daunting. At some point, everyone who works in this field comes to the same crossroads. We can’t all end up like Mark Burnett. So while I’m glad Stephanie is getting out, I’m not even sure what else she’ll do if she leaves television.
    As if reading my mind, Nancy finally asks, “So what are your plans?”
    Stephanie smiles. “I’m buying a circuit training gym.”
    I let out a huge laugh. “ You’re buying a gym?”
    “Yep.”
    “But you don’t even work out,” I say, still laughing. “You practically swallow your food whole so that you don’t have to spend energy chewing.”
    Stephanie crosses her arms and smiles. “Just because I don’t exercise doesn’t mean I can’t own a gym. I’d be my own boss. I’m already looking for a location, and I have a meeting with the franchise people after this job finishes.”
    “Good for you,” Nancy says. “I think this is your path, Steph. I’m so proud of you.”
    On an impulse, I reach over and give Stephanie a hug. “I’m proud of you,