The director has already been found. This is one good thing about the Japanese production bureau system—once a program proposal is approved, finding people and resources is very convenient. At the very least, everyone under the production bureau can be considered colleagues, so the level of mutual trust is higher, and there’s a tacit understanding formed from long-term collaboration. There’s no need for troublesome bargaining.

Ryan Chandler listened and wasn’t too concerned about the contract; instead, he was more interested in what kind of person the director was. Most of the time, the producer, director, and screenwriter are the key figures that determine the quality of a show, with the actors coming second.

He asked with great interest, “What works has this Director Foster done before? How were the ratings?”

Ian Murphy hesitated for a moment and replied tactfully, “He directed a morning drama before, but you probably haven’t heard of the name. The premiere didn’t go very well, and there were some issues with the plot’s continuity in the middle. In the end, it didn’t take off…”

Ryan Chandler nodded knowingly. That basically meant the first project flopped—the premiere ratings were terrible, and after some effort, the ratings might have dropped even further. In the end, it was axed before completion, never even making it to the videotape market—a total loss.

In other words, he’s a failed director, and his work was forcibly discontinued.

As he thought about this, he continued listening to Ian Murphy, who said, “But I heard it wasn’t his fault. The problem was with the material and the script. He’s actually quite capable, especially when it comes to on-set coordination. After his first project didn’t go well, the station had him shoot TV shopping commercials for two years. This time, when I submitted the proposal, the planning committee recommended him. After I called you yesterday, I went to talk to him, and he seemed pretty good. He just asked to meet you before making a decision.”

“I see, that’s fine.” Ryan Chandler nodded repeatedly. After all, “The World’s Bizarre Tales” isn’t difficult to shoot. As long as the director is professional, there’s no need for exceptional talent—he had no objections.

However, with a rookie producer, a new screenwriter, and a failed director, it was obvious that Tokyo Broadcasting TEB didn’t have high expectations for the show. It was probably because there were more channels now and a temporary shortage of programs, so they just wanted to fill a time slot. It was pretty much the same as in the original world.

As they talked, they entered the building. Ian Murphy signed Ryan Chandler in, and Ryan Chandler happened to greet the on-duty Kenneth Parker, finally stepping into the Tokyo Broadcasting TEB compound for the first time.

Ian Murphy acted like a tour guide, pointing out the locations of various departments in the Tokyo Broadcasting headquarters, such as where the legal department was, where HR was, where the radio station was, and so on. After just a few steps, Ryan Chandler noticed a group of people bowing in a corner of the compound and couldn’t help but ask Ian Murphy, “What are those people doing?”

It looked like a memorial service—had someone died from overwork?

Ian Murphy glanced in the direction he pointed and replied matter-of-factly, “They’re performing the gassho ceremony.”

“What does that mean?” Ryan Chandler didn’t understand.

“It’s eight-thirty now. Before changing shifts, the people from the Audit and Supervision Department go to pay their respects to Tokyo Tower, praying that there won’t be any broadcast accidents today.”

The main job of the Audit and Supervision Department is just as the name suggests: to review whether broadcast content complies with laws, regulations, and moral standards. But since many TV programs are live, there’s no way to review them in advance. So, their main job is to watch TV programs, and if they spot something wrong, they quickly cut the signal and switch to commercials to minimize losses and prevent worse consequences.

If they fail to stop problematic content and a serious broadcast accident occurs, they’ll be held accountable. Sometimes, it’s hard to judge whether something counts as a broadcast accident.

For example, if a baseball game is too intense and still isn’t over after three hours, going overtime, should they cut the signal and play the next scheduled program? This department has to make that call. If they don’t let the fans watch the end of the game, the fans will really write in to complain. But if the next program’s viewers wait and wait and it never comes on, they’ll probably get angry too and might write to ask if the TV station is toying with their feelings. So, this job isn’t as easy as it looks.

This department is nicknamed “the scapegoats.” They’re more afraid of broadcast accidents than anyone and hope the programs finish on schedule more than anyone else. That’s understandable, but to so openly engage in superstitious rituals—and it looks like it’s become a tradition, not just a one-off—well…

Japan really is a fascinating place. Even a modern institution like a TV station can have feudal superstitions going on. That’s impressive!

Ryan Chandler felt his eyes had been opened—it was novel to him. But for Ian Murphy, this was an everyday sight, nothing special. She continued walking toward the main building, introducing the environment as they went—she wanted to build a good relationship with Ryan Chandler, since they’d be working together for at least three or four months.

Soon, she brought Ryan Chandler to the legal department.

It was just like an ordinary company—a large open-plan office, with nearly a hundred people busy in their cubicles. Ian Murphy settled Ryan Chandler into a cubicle meeting room, then went to fetch two suited men from the legal department.