I’ve worked at quite a few different places over the years, and at times there seems to be a sense that I’m spending time at a magic show. There’s always some kind of trickery being pulled one way or another, and it’s all an illusion — just pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.
The biggest example of this was my time at 944, a place made up of some very bright people, but it was all smoke and mirrors. I tell this story all the time, but it bears repeating.
When you walked into the front office of 944′s HQ in Scottsdale, it was hard not to be impressed. Smack dab in front was a water feature with a 944 topiary, which just screamed “we have money.” There was always a pretty (if not beautiful) receptionist up front, positioned behind a zebrawood desk and modern furniture that was so modern that it was uncomfortable to sit in. Oh, and the 944 cover with Paris Hilton was there as well, just in case you had any doubts of who they were and how important the magazine was. For sure, people were impressed when they walked in the door — I know I was.
But 944 was really just like that fancy water feature. At first glance, it really looked cool — lots of detail, fancy rocks and modern zebrawood surrounding the base — but if you took a closer look, it was all just a façade. The zebrawood was really a laminate, and if you peered around the left side of the base all of it was peeling off. The water feature rarely worked, often leaving hard water stains on the glass that were almost impossible to remove. And it leaked too (right onto a power outlet, I might add), making it dangerous to work in the area, or even just walk by. Oh, and the topiary wasn’t made of real bushes, although I suppose that wouldn’t make much sense since there was no light to keep them alive. Regardless, the water feature was a joke amongst us in the office, and later, among those who were cast off like so much discarded trash when the house of cards all fell apart.
Although I’m fortunate enough not to be in a situation that’s full of smoke and mirrors today, I will say that I come across these people all the time. They always want to baffle me with their bullshit, and sometimes I just want to believe them. But every time I do, I think back to that water feature and just take an extra moment to take in my surroundings and see if they’re really full of shit. Usually when I do that, I can see the curtain, and behind it is a little man working levers furiously.
To the Writers of HIMYM
Dear sirs and madams:
My name is Kevin Whipps, and I’m a writer from Scottsdale, Arizona. I’ve been watching How I Met Your Mother (HIMYM) since the beginning, and up until recently, it’s really been quite enjoyable to tune into every Monday night. Recently though, not so much. And it needs to change, or else I’m going to stop watching — and I don’t think I’m the only one thinking that.
Remember Lost? Of course you do, we all watched Lost in the beginning, and some even hung onto the end. Those that did had lots of still unanswered questions left in the lurch, as did viewers of Battlestar Galactica. This creates a frustration with the viewers because we sit there, watching, patiently waiting for the show to put down a question, then answer said question within a reasonable amount of time. The amount varies based on the show, but I can say now with confidence that seven seasons is way too long to know how Ted actually meets the mother of his children.
It’s not that we don’t enjoy the hijinks of Barney, Ted and the gang, but since the title isn’t How Five Friends Spend Time at a Bar we want the story to progress. We want clues dropped then responded to. We want closure, and there’s no reason you can’t give it to us and still give us another five years of quality programming.
Emotionally, we, the viewers, are spent. First we’re getting involved with Ted and his fantastically horrid love life, but now Barney has gone from being the lovable bachelor to a lovelorn puppy who is pining away for Robin — the same person, by the way, who’s supposed to marry a brunette newscaster as per the guideline set a few seasons back. As for Marshall and Lilly, well they’re married and expecting their first child, but because they live out in Long Island now, their involvement in the bar scene is becoming a bit of a stretch. Sure, at least Marshall is in the city every day for work, but is Lilly really making that commute to work at a school when she could do the same thing closer by? Doesn’t seem logical.
Mathematically, you’ve got a problem, too. The conversation with Ted’s children takes place in 2030, at least per the show, and those children are at least 14 years old, give or take. Assuming that’s the case, then one of them was born in 2016, so you’ve got four years at the most to make this thing happen. But in a reasonable world, Ted’s going to want to meet the girl, hang out for a bit and then have children. Does all that happen in a year? Maybe, but Ted’s not getting any younger, so this has to happen sometime soon.
These premises are just becoming such stretches that we’re losing interest. And when you dropped the “love” bullshit between Ted and Robin last episode, I turned off the TV and seriously considered pulling the show from my DVR. Against my better judgement, I watch again this week and at the end Marshall won’t let Lilly concede to the bet, saying “Not yet” in reference to Ted and Robin never working out. You could almost see the disdain on Jason Segel’s face as he spit out the lines, like even he thought it was a stupid idea to keep dragging this thing out. Stop it. Just, stop it.
So how do you fix it? Easy. Give us the girl.
Now we know she has a yellow umbrella, but at this point it’s been years since she lost the thing, so who knows if she cares that it’s missing. And we also know she was Rachel Bilson’s roommate, but that was so long ago that it’s not even a relevant clue. However you do it, we now need to meet her. Let’s make the connection and move the story forward, or else Ted is going to be 65 and looking for chicks at AARP meetings.
Once they do meet though, the story isn’t over. Now we know how he met the mother, but the story can transition. They can break up, get back together, fight, argue, get married — you know, the stuff that couples do. You’ve easily got another year’s worth of stories before the marriage, and for the end of season 8 or 9, that’s where you go. Or maybe to the birth of the kids. Whatever it is, you can draw this out. It works.
But right now, you’re just playing this game where you’re giving us enough to be able to wrap up the show quickly if it gets cancelled, but also not enough to really make any reasonable progress to move the story along. It’s like a seven year long game of “just the tip” — we want more, we’ve been patient, we’ve put in the work. Let us finish, for fuck’s sake.
I’ve been debating if this show has already jumped the shark, but if it hasn’t yet, it seems imminent. Before you go off riding Fonzie’s coattails into television history, consider rewarding those of us that have been watching since the beginning. We want our payoff. I know that if I don’t get it soon, I’m just going to bail on it faster than I did on Lost.