They said that every Spaniard had a soccer coach inside him, but we are discovering that he also had a television executive. I am envious of those who live watching the Motos and Broncano hearings and celebrate the tenths up or down as Iniesta’s goals. I wish I could find such a simple and cheap source of joy and entertainment. I envy them like I envy the dog who can spend two hours watching the washing machine cycles without blinking. What bliss, to be happy with so little. I want to commit suicide if I get on a train and discover that I haven’t put a book in my backpack.
I never thought reading audience data was such popular and passionate fun. Because of my friends who work on TV and pay attention to them, I thought they were something tedious and distressing, like exam grades. I know well the anxiety that overcomes them every morning when reviewing the figures and I have never understood their breakdown. You have to be a TV broker and put a lot of effort into your profession to get excited about those little stories. I admit that I get lost with the concept of sharegolden minute or unique spectator (which sounds like Orwell or Jung’s archetype to me), but to tell the truth I have never understood the meteorological concepts of relative humidity or thermal sensation either, and that has not prevented me from commenting on the weather that is going to be tomorrow.
Now that the audience of The anthill and The revolt has become a regular section of the press as popular as the horoscope, my confusion is going to be chronic. I’ll have to adapt and go with the flow, like I know what they’re talking about. Before, we filled the uncomfortable silences in the elevator with “it seems to be refreshing,” but the other day, my neighbor told me: “What a beating Broncano has given that Motos.” And I nodded enthusiastically, lest he take me for a retrograde spectator of The anthill.
“It’s amazing,” continued the good man, who was carrying a loaf of bread with the corrusco bitten off, “he got 0.7 points in the strict competition range.” “I’m not surprised, with how much fun it was Valeria Ros last night at Broncano’s,” I added, so as not to remain silent, and the neighbor looked at me with pity and a little disgust: “I don’t know, I don’t watch those programs,” he confessed, “I just follow the ratings.” Like a good Spaniard, he failed to say.
#hilarious #ratings