As stressful as Monday nights typically are, Tuesday mornings are normally quite often docile and tame.  A day to sort of recover from the near two week grind that becomes a two hour live show in prime time on Monday nights.  This Tuesday was not one of those days.  It was hectic from start to finish with several meetings back to back. Luckily, some of them were over Zoom.

On the docket, something that hasn't happened with Warfare in probably a decade.  One issue I noticed is that there was never a succession plan in place.  When a general manager's time had expired, there was never someone on the team waiting and prepared to take the lead.  Instead, it was a melting pot of poorly thought out plans and haphazard execution.  While I am good at my job, I am by no means perfect.  I never have, nor would I ever claim I was.

As an aside, I noticed since I took over the ship, that no one will praise you when you do well, but mess up one thing and the critics come out of the woodwork like termites.  It's the most thankless paying job that I've ever held.  They should really get over themselves and instead of voicing their shitty inaccurate uninformed opinions, maybe they could trust the process or better yet, contribute to it.  Everything I do, I do for them, for the company.  They don't stop and think about what I gave up in order to help save this company from the trash compactor it was headed for.  I didn't didn’t take this job for myself and I certainly won't keep it one minute longer than I need to.  When I took this job, it came at a time when I had my heart set on a full time return to XWF competition and I'm not one of those guys that books myself in favorable positions on my own fucking show.

That's for someone else.

Unlike those of the past that have held my position, I will plan for my eventual exit.  I won't leave the company that I've shed my own blood sweat and tears for in the lurch.  When I exit the Warfare office for the last time, someone else will be groomed, primed and ready to man the helm and captain the mighty flagship.

”Warfare is in great shape,” I said to Theo via Zoom from my Manhattan office.  ”But it could always be better, stronger.”

”We should probably start talking extension,” Theo stated.  ”Six months flies by pretty quickly and we're almost to the midway point already.”

”I'm not sure I want one if I'm honest,” I said to the disgust of my uncle.  ”This wasn't what I was planning when I returned to the XWF, Unc, you know that.”

”How many times do I really need to tell you that you can do both?” he snapped.

”You're just tryna have your cake and eat it too,” I snapped back.  ”I don't like the optics of a person that leads a show also being a regularly active competitor.  And if you stopped to really think about it, you'd agree with me.”

”No I wouldn't,” he argued.  ”There is a system in place. Checks and balances, all that.”

”That's not my argument and you know it isn't,” I protested.  ”What happens to the most fragile of minds if I'm the titled GM and I step into a Warfare ring and win my 4th Xtreme title? My second Uni? My 3rd TV title?

“You can't sit there and say that there'd be no uproar, because they already criticize every single fucking move I make.”

Theo leaned back in his chair, I'd presume from his home out in Jackson Hole.

”So no, I don't think I'm contemplating an extension right now,” I continued.

”I really wasn't anticipating having to go through yet another head hunting exercise six months in.  I knew I should have made your contract for at least a year.”

”I never would have agreed to it,” I offered.  ”The talent shows up once every two weeks and their job is done in a few hours. They go home and continue their regular lives.

“Running the show is a full time job and I don't know if you noticed, but I have two other full time jobs.  I don't need this shit.

“I did what I set out to do, Theo.  I helped you right the ship.  I helped you bring in some fresh names that brought eyes back to the XWF.  When six months is up, times up and I go back to my regular life.

“And you're not gonna have to go on another head hunt,” I informed my uncle.

”How not?”

”Unlike the last few jackasses that held my position, I'm forming my own exit strategy and that includes grooming the next GM.”

Theo sat quietly in careful deliberation.

”Who do you have in mind?”

”I didn't get a yes yet,” I answered.  ”When I do, you'll know.”

Part of me was pleased with Theo's displeasure at my stated desire to leave the GM post sooner rather than later.  If he's so displeased, then I'm doing my job well enough that he feels pressure.  To be clear, I expected some criticism.  Naturally, it comes with the territory.  It comes with taking the post.  Despite Warfare consistently putting on good shows now, I never hear a word of encouragement from my fellow rostered employees.  I never get handed a note saying they liked this or that, no… all I eat is bullshit because they don't understand how compelling television works.  They don't understand how content creation works from a business standpoint.  They need their answer immediately.  They're unable (or simply unwilling) to sit back and watch things unfold.

As much as Theo's displeasure pleased me, my impending departure from the front office will please me so much more.

The truth of the matter is, for as much as critics will talk themselves into believing they're righteous or that they're making me “better,” they couldn't be more wrong.  I don't want to hear the constant criticism.  I don't need to hear it.  I know where the show lacks and could be stronger, and I know where we're strong.  I've been in and around this business my entire life and I don't say that as some “I know better than you” hubris, but you don't know every plan, you don't know every detail.  You don't know what program is going where, why, or how.

I do.

So the critics embolden their own narcissism and think they push me to be better but the reality of it is they push me to the safe ground because I just don't need to hear it every damn time someone opens their mouth in my direction.  They see things as they are and ask why.  I see things as they were, as they are, as they will be and ask why not.

For however long I remain the executive director of Warfare, I will do what I think is best.  That is the mandate that I have since taking that post.  That is what I will resume doing.

The critics that do nothing BUT criticize can get fucked.

Then stay fucked.

Sorry, not sorry.

After Theo's Zoom call ended, it was time for another.  For years now, there has been a man backstage working as a lackey.  I prefer the term staffer, but he is what he is.  He's never been in charge of anything in XWF as far as I'm aware, but he does great work and the man has been underappreciated as far as I can tell.  That changes today.

”Peter,” I greeted him in my next Zoom call.  ”How the hell are you?”

“I'm well,” Peter Principle replied.  “A little nervous as to the nature of this call, Mr. Duke, as I've been a dedicated servant to the powers that be now for years and never once have I been directed to a Zoom meeting.”

”Peter…” I tried to interrupt.

“It didn't matter what show,” he continued nervously (and needlessly) defending himself.  “Savage, Warfare, Anarchy, pay per views.  Mr. Duke, whatever I did to raise your ire, please tell me what I did and how I can fix it so that…”

”Peter, ENOUGH!” I regrettably snapped.  ”I'm sorry, but I have a lot on my plate today and I'm tryna get home to my kids while they're still kids.

“You're not in trouble for any damn thing, Pete.  I'll keep this short and sweet and tell you that I'm promoting you to Assistant to the Warfare Executive Director.”

Sitting quietly, I waited for Peter's response.  It took several seconds but he went from the deer in the headlights look he had when I snapped to I guess what you might call a shocked and relieved expression.

“Assistant Executive Director,” he finally replied.

”Assistant to the Executive Director,” I corrected.

“That's the same thing,” Peter claimed.

“It's not the same thing, but I'm sorry Peter, I gotta go.  My son is calling and I don't miss his calls.  Thanks for your hard work and dedication…

“Hey Frankie, one sec…” I said into my cell before resuming my Zoom meeting.  ”And congratulations on your promotion to…

“Assistant Executive Director,” he interrupted happily.

”To the” I corrected again.

“It's the same thing,” he repeated.

”It's not, but thanks again and congratulations,” I said before exiting the call and returning my attention to my boy wonder.

”What doth the prodigal son hath for me?” I said to the boy.

”It kind of is the same thing and how is that exactly like Dwight, Michael and The Office?”

”Strictly assistant means similar powers,” I informed the boy.  ”Whereas adding the ‘to the’ qualifier means he just helps me out and is recognized for that effort.

“Anyway, what's on your mind?”

”Did you book Warfare yet?” he asked.

”I'm in the process now, between the 13 billion meetings I have today.”

”Is my Mom gonna be there?”

”Uhhh yeah I think so.  I don't really keep tabs on her.”

”Book her against Mr. Braddock,” he strongly urged.

”I can't keep booking him like this, Bud,” I protested.  ”Against Jason Cashe he had the element of surprise on his side that made that match look a lot closer than it really was.

“Facing Uncle Seb, he had no surprise element and got exposed for the rookie competition that he is.  If he were to face your mom…”

”Stop with the excuses and book it,” he demanded of me.

”Why?”

”Because I want her to feel on the outside how she makes me feel inside,” he replied without hesitation.

”Frankie,” I said as I sighed with ample disgust.  ”You need to channel this better.  I already sued her for 2.5 million dollars that she does not have at your behest.

“Now you want me to potentially get her hurt by Cy?”

”This is what we do to those that betray us, Dad.  You’re the one that taught me that.”

You know, I was wondering when my own words would come back to haunt me.

Now.

That time is now.

”There's a time and place to exact revenge, Frankie, and…

”And that time is now, Dad.”

”You know, at some point you're gonna have to accept the word no for an answer.”

”Maybe,” he replied.  ”But not today.”

”Fine, but this is it,” I reluctantly agreed.  ”Using me to teach Tyler a lesson is one thing.  I'm in the front office now, Frank.  I can't abuse my power strictly for your sake.”

”Thanks dad, love you.”

”Yeah.  Love you too bub.”

No sooner did I end my call with my son, did I get a rude interruption from my gatekeeper, Janet Wilson.

”Thaddeus, your 3 o'clock is here,” she said through the intercom.

What 3 o'clock?  I don't have a 3 o'clock.

I sprung from my office chair and made my way to the door.

”You added to my schedule?” I asked after throwing my door open.

”No, he said you asked him to drop in,” Janet replied.

”Janet, I wouldn't do that.  You give me hell every time I do and I'm not inclined to eat more baseless, pointless bullshit for no reason anymore than I need to.”

”Well this one was kind and charming so I felt one time would be okay,” she argued.

”Fine,” I snapped back.  ”Where is he?”

”Ahem!” came the gesturing clearing of a throat that I didn't immediately see.  Looking down, I noticed Pip Collins.

”Shit. Sorry,” I said as I motioned for him to come in.

Sat behind my desk, I waited patiently for Pip to climb into his seat.  The child sized adult male stared blankly at me.

”Should I get some steps?  Maybe a smaller chair to make that sort of thing easier on you?” I asked.

”I don't recall your offer this weekend specifying I'd be in your office,” Pip retorted.

”I also said that I wanted you at Warfare in Brooklyn,” I argued.  ”In case you hadn't noticed, this is neither Warfare nor are we in Brooklyn.”

”No but you piqued my interest,” Pip replied.

”You obviously don't take directions well, but at least you seem to have cleaned yourself up.”

”Ha!” he scoffed.  ”Be thankful you never had Vinnie Lane screaming in your ear two hours a night.”

”I'd never had lasted two hours, let alone the several years that you did,” I replied.  ”So what do you wanna talk about?”

”You're a good salesman, Thaddeus,” he said as he leaned forward in his chair.  ”You knew damn well what the allusion of power would do to me and that's why you left the conversation there.

“So… what power?”

”Assistant Executive Director,” I answered quickly.  ”It's the same as a general manager but a more appropriate title.”

”Why would I want it?  Like I told you in the bar.  This company dumped me on my ass after years of devoted service.

“So again.  Why would I do it?”

”You and I are more alike than what meets the eye,” I began.  ”Like you, I dedicated myself to this company.  Like you, I too was once fired by Theo Pryce.  Like you, I too thought it was a betrayal of my loyalty.”

Standing from my chair, I came around the desk and sat the edge in front of Pip Collins.

”Eventually I realized that my termination was an opportunity,” I continued on.  ”It was a time for reflection.  It was a time to evaluate where I'd been, what I'd done, where I'd like to go if I had an opportunity to come back.

“You were here, Pip.  When I made my triumphant return to the XWF, what happened?”

”You had arguably the greatest return anyone in your position could ask for,” Pip began his reply.  ”You were born a blue chipper which is why Lane and your uncle were so eager to sign you when you were still just a kid.

“When you started, you didn't yet have the mental makeup of a champion.  You were an elitist, you felt entitled to the adulation and the trinkets that adorned your resume but you hadn't earned that yet.”

”Then I was fired,” I reminded him.  ”He had just cause to do it, but what happened when I came back?”

”You changed the way the game was played,” he continued on.  ”You had the most remarkable run that I can remember.  Wins over the best and most talented members in the history of the XWF.  You went on to win not only the TV title but you stood toe to toe with the entire XWF roster and you beat them all and walked out with two major championships in one night.

“It was phenomenal.  All the doubts, all the trials and tribulations from your past disappeared because now you were the man.  You showed the world what that meant to you as a man.  Not as Thaddeus Duke the performer, but Thaddeus Duke the man.

“They saw you as you really were.  A ruthless competitor, a man that bled the colors, a… champion, with or without gold around your waist.”

”And that didn't happen overnight,” I told him.  ”I  busted my ass to earn everything I had, to prove that I didn't deserve what I got because of what name I wear, but because I worked hard to become the star that I always thought I was.

“Maybe you're not a second generation anything.  Maybe you're not a wrestler with baggage, but Pip, my days are numbered in my current position because I never really wanted it to begin with.”

”Then why did you take it?” he asked the obvious question.

”Because someone needed to save this company.  People might hear this and think that I think, or that I claim that I do it alone.  That it was me and me alone.  Hell, some might even be so blind to think that this company wasn't in trouble at all.

“It was.  I'm just one spoke of many on the wheel that have been working tirelessly to keep the ship afloat.  She sails pretty smoothly now and the storm has passed.

“Now we move forward to the future, so Pip, I'm asking you to climb back aboard the ship.  I'm asking you to learn what it takes to run the show and down the road, take over for me when I'm ready to move onto whatever is next for me.”

”What if you're hiring an aspiring tyrant?” he joked… I think.

”How you choose to carry yourself once I exit the front office is not my concern, not my problem.

“Hell, maybe this job would be a lot more personally satisfying if I was a tyrant.”

”You seem bitter,” Pip replied.

”Because I am,” I answered.  ”My critics saw the same shows I watched and hardly any of them tried to step to the plate, but they're more than willing to criticize the one that did.

“And the one person that was willing to step to the plate isn't remotely promotable.”

”Why not offer the job to them?  Maybe they're not promotable now, but with some extra seasoning, some grooming, perhaps when you're ready to step out, they'll then be ready to step up.”

”Because he can't change who he is and it'll never work.”

Fact is, yeah I'm a little bitter about this whole experience.  I put my own life, my own wants, my own desires on hold to take this job.  I neither want nor need the acknowledgement or any form of ass kissing from those that reside on the roster.  Yet at the same time, with all of the constant unconstructive criticism from the same handful of names, I've lost any fire I had in the beginning to do this job on a long term basis.

Maybe that's a bad way to look at it, but not only do I not need the constant bullshit, I also don't deserve it.

”The job is yours if you want it,” I said to Pip.  ”Be in Brooklyn on the 19th.”