61.141 | A meeting to discuss stadiums and seats
Posted: Sun Jan 12, 2025 2:45 pm
Off Topic
Expansion plans on hold?
October 31, 2061 | Forever Land, Tiki Hut #1 | Ron Collins stand around a table in his office with his assistant GM, Monica Green, and a team of architects. As they discuss the topic at hand, a calm breeze blows through the open window. It’s not raining today, which makes it a special day. The humid aroma of heated sand and fresh palm trees fills the space. Natural light reflected from the beaches makes the room pleasant.
The documents that architects are displaying, however, dull that pleasantry.
“You’re kidding me, right?” Collins says, pointing at the blueprints he’d asked the architects to draw up. Blueprints that shows how an additional five-thousands seats would fit into Forever Park—five thousand seats the team could have filled in their Silly Postseason Exhibition Games just a few weeks ago. The idea of lost revenue is killing him. But … “Five million bucks? For these seats?” The architects from Build’em Buildings nodded and checked their investment accounts.
“And probably some extra work on the Propaganda front,” Green says in a tone of voice that is almost ruminating.
“We don’t have that kind of cash,” Collins replies.
“Then we’d have to do even more on the propaganda front,” Green snaps.
Collins runs his hands through his hair and stares out at the waves that are cresting across where the lagoon leads to open sea. The plan was more seats. They had already pushed the plan back a year after they missed the SPET in 2060. He’s not sure he can handle FP at only 50K seats. Sacramento has 65K. A huge advantage. Stadium envy consumed him, but the numbers said delay was needed. And Monica was right when she said that the extra cost would tax the Public Outreach department. The new girl was good, but still new. It was a tough call, but that’s what a GM was here to do: make the tough calls.
They needed more money, though. That was for sure. And if there was one thing he knew for sure it was that P. Moreau Westmoreland wasn’t going to pony up any more then he already had.
He looks at Green. “Let’s get ... what’s her name?”
“Marie,” his assistant replied, barely holding back snark. “Marie Manning. You might remember her dad.”
“Crap. Right. Um, sorry. I’m just a little preoccupied. But, yeah, let’s get Marie in here and see if we can do up a plan.”
“All right.”
A few moments later, Collins was alone in his executive Tiki hut. He took a deep breath of salt air and tried to ignore the gnawing ache at the bottom of his gut, an ache that told him he wasn’t going to be able to afford those seats, and an ache that told him that shoeless would never let him live that down.
October 31, 2061 | Forever Land, Tiki Hut #1 | Ron Collins stand around a table in his office with his assistant GM, Monica Green, and a team of architects. As they discuss the topic at hand, a calm breeze blows through the open window. It’s not raining today, which makes it a special day. The humid aroma of heated sand and fresh palm trees fills the space. Natural light reflected from the beaches makes the room pleasant.
The documents that architects are displaying, however, dull that pleasantry.
“You’re kidding me, right?” Collins says, pointing at the blueprints he’d asked the architects to draw up. Blueprints that shows how an additional five-thousands seats would fit into Forever Park—five thousand seats the team could have filled in their Silly Postseason Exhibition Games just a few weeks ago. The idea of lost revenue is killing him. But … “Five million bucks? For these seats?” The architects from Build’em Buildings nodded and checked their investment accounts.
“And probably some extra work on the Propaganda front,” Green says in a tone of voice that is almost ruminating.
“We don’t have that kind of cash,” Collins replies.
“Then we’d have to do even more on the propaganda front,” Green snaps.
Collins runs his hands through his hair and stares out at the waves that are cresting across where the lagoon leads to open sea. The plan was more seats. They had already pushed the plan back a year after they missed the SPET in 2060. He’s not sure he can handle FP at only 50K seats. Sacramento has 65K. A huge advantage. Stadium envy consumed him, but the numbers said delay was needed. And Monica was right when she said that the extra cost would tax the Public Outreach department. The new girl was good, but still new. It was a tough call, but that’s what a GM was here to do: make the tough calls.
They needed more money, though. That was for sure. And if there was one thing he knew for sure it was that P. Moreau Westmoreland wasn’t going to pony up any more then he already had.
He looks at Green. “Let’s get ... what’s her name?”
“Marie,” his assistant replied, barely holding back snark. “Marie Manning. You might remember her dad.”
“Crap. Right. Um, sorry. I’m just a little preoccupied. But, yeah, let’s get Marie in here and see if we can do up a plan.”
“All right.”
A few moments later, Collins was alone in his executive Tiki hut. He took a deep breath of salt air and tried to ignore the gnawing ache at the bottom of his gut, an ache that told him he wasn’t going to be able to afford those seats, and an ache that told him that shoeless would never let him live that down.