Background Information:

Mike Thirlwell was a digital editor for several popular reality television shows on
prime time networks until he recently left the profession. After this, he began writing
a blog entitled ‘Button Pushing’ about his experiences.
The following is the first post from his blog, as well as an accompanying comment
from one of Thirlwell’s readers which was also published on the site.

Button Pushing
I’m sitting on a bus. Around me are the regular bus folk; old ladies sitting patiently,
some young lads messing about with the driver, and a couple of middle aged women
behind me. “Did you hear?” one of them says, with a conspiratorial wink, “that Jenna
got voted off last night?” “Oh of course; I told you she was a goner ever since she
made Dave break up with Kylie.” “Don’t you just feel so sorry for people like that?”
“God no – that little hellcat got what she deserved.” Giggles. Gossip. Banal, brainless
conversations. These people talk of reality show contestants as though they too are
real. But they’re not. They’re just constructs. I should know. I made them.

From 9 to 5, every week day for twelve years, I sat in a dingy office editing the
footage of various so-called “reality” shows in an attempt to cobble together some
semblance of a storyline to make the material as palatable as possible. I honed my
skills as someone who could create conflict out of nothing; if my producer needed a
hate-figure for the sake of this week’s ratings, I’d make a five minute package of the
most unglamorous aspects of someone’s personality and tie it all up in a delightfully
artificial bow.

And now, people on buses all over the country trade “clever” observations about the
toils of my labour. It’s hardly their fault that they fall victim to these sinister tricks of
the trade, but it’s frustrating nonetheless to see scores of people lose their inhibitions
by chortling at cheesy sound effects, or literally crying over spilled milk.
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I often think back to my younger days when I was just starting out in the industry. I
was doing some low-skill level editing work for a dating show in the early 2000s, and
upon realising that there was way too much footage for me to feasibly summarise all
of the material in a realistic way, I consulted with one of my superiors about what I
should do. He laughed in my face. “Realistic!?” he snorted, “Why on earth would I
want you to give me realistic stuff? The people don’t want realism; they want goodies
and baddies, black and white, right and wrong. So make it happen.”

And I did. For over a decade, I sculpted people’s behaviours, words, and sometimes
even lives for the sake of what was “watchable.” Over time, the industry morphed into
a sickening pit of buzzwords like “sharable,” “viral,” and “bait” as though we were
concocting some kind of contagious pathogen. Not only did I have to watch my
colleagues get sucked into this horrendous void, but I was also forced to confront the
realisation that they were right. Time after time, our most watched episodes would be
the ones with that elusive “shock factor,” but as we kept pushing the limit, we found
the regular tactics wouldn’t cut it. Ten years ago, watching someone bawl their eyes
out after being told their ambitions were foolish would’ve made headlines for its

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shock value; nowadays, it’s just stock filler on every second episode. My fall-back
technique of creating the subtle hint of tension through just the right facial expression
coupled with just the right soundbite – both taken completely out of context, of course
– was no longer sufficient. People wanted fights. People wanted love triangles. People
wanted fully-fledged mental breakdowns.

And I’m ashamed to say I gave them what they wanted. But I had to get out of that
soul-crushing world before I too became a dullard with no semblance of human
decency.

You see, people think themselves wise when it comes to the tricks and tropes of the
television landscape, but they have no idea just how artificial the final product can be.
So when I hear women on the bus talk about how much they hate “Jenna,” all I can
think of is some poor schmuck like me, cramped over some cheap editing software in
an office cubicle who wants them to hate Jenna. Because that’s what sells. So if you
want mind-numbing, derivative content that’s sure to appeal to whatever base desires
need satisfying, look no further than your very own TV. But there lies a world outside
this bleak facsimile of reality, and all you have to do is press a different button.

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COMMENTS:

Rather than getting on your high horse about how unrealistic reality shows are, how
about providing us with some actual examples of these “derivative” things? I’m quite
the connoisseur of evening television, and I’d consider myself capable of looking
beyond the glossy artifice to the genuine personalities that shine through your cheap
editing tricks.

I reckon your God complex has gotten in the way of your understanding; you’re
underestimating us if you think we aren’t aware of the difference between TV and real
life. Plus, it’s not as though your attitudes are indicative of everyone in the business.
I’ve even had a few friends sign up for various reality shows, and they all had a great
time. None of them felt misrepresented, or that the end result was a massive departure
from what really happened. It’s all just a bit of fun, and if you really think it’s all some
evil conspiracy to subdue the masses to the point where we’re all being brainwashed
by our screens… well, I just feel sorry for you.
-   Username: Mary Burke