His jaw tightened when he readmeme-able—a small movement, barely visible. He kept scrolling.
The nervous habits are gold. The way he can't stop touching things, checking things—very relatable. Audiences love a mess they can feel superior to.
Pickle's scrolling stopped for half a second on that one. Then continued.
The subject line that would probably live in my memory forever:
THUNDER BAY'S FAVORITE DISASTER
Pickle stared at it for three full breaths before opening it.
The Zamboni clips are exactly what we're looking for. The chair thing at the bar is gold. Keep them coming.
He scrolled to my reply.
Understood. Sending additional material now.
Five words. I'd written them at 2 a.m., telling myself I was being strategic. Five words that meantyes, I'll keep feeding you his worst moments.
"I pushed back," I said. "Earlier. Before this—"
I reached past him. Found the thread from day six.
Re: Direction clarification—I'm concerned about the framing here. Piatkowski is a legitimate hockey talent. The footage of him working with the new player could be compelling in a different way.
And their response:
We're not looking for hockey highlights. The relatable disaster angle is where the engagement lives.
"I sent hockey footage," I said. "Every batch. Clips of you reading plays, mentoring Heath—"
"Why isn't any of it in there?"
He wasn't asking where the footage was—he'd seen the rejected folder, the thumbnails of his competence lined up like evidence of the story they refused to tell.
He was asking me to say it out loud.
"They rejected it. Every time. Every cut where you were a real player—where you looked like someone who belonged on that ice—they sent it back.Not what we're looking for."
He scrolled to another of my replies.
Attaching game footage from Tuesday's practice. His hockey IQ is exceptional. Please consider integrating this material.
And below it:
Pass. Send more of the quirk content.
And below that:
Understood. Sending additional clips now.
The cursor blinked. The laptop fan whirred softly.
"You kept sending the hockey footage," Pickle said. "Even after they said no."
"Every time."
"And when they rejected it—" He turned to look at me. His eyes were clear, hard, and absolutely dry. "You sent them the disaster anyway."
