Happy Path

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HAPPY PATH: In the context of software or information modeling, a happy path is a default scenario featuring no exceptional or error conditions, and comprises the sequence of activities executed if everything goes as expected.

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"Best case scenario, I get laid off with a fat package and then pick up another job right away." That's what I said. Was I tempting fate? Did my subconscious know what was coming? Whatever the case, that statement became a self-fulfilling prophecy. I just wish I'd specified, "...another job in my field..."

I'm Molly and this is the story of how I went from a well-worn job in broadcasting to working a bank job with an IT group. It's a fish out of water story; if the fish were sent to live on Mars.

I used to work for a national network owned by a big telecom company. I'd been with my department for 10 years. The television station had been through several changes in ownership and three presidents during my tenure. I myself had worked for a number of direct bosses and a rotating cast of upper-level management. For a decade, I was a promo producer, which meant I promoted prime-time programming. I was one of the people who got you excited about what would happen on the next episode of Degrassi, ER, Grey's Anatomy, The OC, 30 Rock, Mad Men, The Big Bang Theory, Castle, Flashpoint, The Mentalist, Fringe, Arrow, Once Upon a Time, Grimm and How to Get Away with Murder. I introduced shows like The Vampire Diaries and The Listener to Canadian viewers. I shot with the crew from Corner Gas to promote their final season and I was on-set with Nelly Furtado and Russell Peters to promote the Junos. I cut spots for the Super Bowl and the Oscars, The Voice and The Amazing Race - the one hosted by Phil, and the one hosted by John. I mostly worked days, but sometimes I worked evenings. Once a year, our entire department would toil for two or three weeks straight, preparing a showcase that hyped the stations' new roster of shows to media buyers. Our reward for hard work ranged from a party with celebrities and an open bar in the early years, to a lottery for a chance to work the party by the time I left.

When I started producing promos for a national network, the station was flush and our CEO and president was the flashy Ivan Fecan. He had a flowing white mane and a knack for picking successful programming. Our department was well-regarded by the big boss and always had a seat at the head table, with budgets to match. Our shoots were grand and expensive. The department was well-staffed. The company had an employee Christmas party that took over a giant night club complex with a variety of themed rooms and bands and food and drink. It was the heyday of traditional broadcasting and I'm glad I got to experience it. That was 2005-2010.

The 2010 Vancouver Olympics was the pinnacle. Our group was heavily involved in the promotion of the games and a number of people from the department traveled to Vancouver to work on-site. I stayed home and promoted speed skating for the men and women. I told millions of patriotic viewers about Olympians Charles Hamelin, Marianne St-Gelais, Denny Morrison and Christine Nesbitt. I let the audience know when the Canadians were skating and how they'd done in the last race. I watched, along with the rest of the nation, while my network provided superb coverage of a country celebrating its homeland and its very best athletes. It was one of the proudest moments of my career.

After the Olympics, the network started to lose its defining voices. Ivan Fecan went out on top. He "retired" the same year Bell parent BCE bought CTV outright.*  Fecan was replaced by a Bell executive with scant television experience. The departure of Fecan and the BCE takeover cast a corporate pall over the creative space. Two years later, Rick Lewchuck jumped ship for a gig with CNN Worldwide in Atlanta. Lewchuck had been the senior vice president of the CTV Creative Agency and brand strategy. He'd steered the ship and been the department's visionary for more than a decade and created original brands like The Comedy Network, CTV News Channel and BNN. He was a fixture in our space, with his office just a stone's throw from my desk by the time he went south. Hailing from Saskatchewan, he'd wear a Rough Riders jersey with jeans on the Friday before an important game. Although I hardly ever talked to him and wasn't even sure he could pick me out of the producer pool, the attire made him seem more approachable.