Prime Time Polish

I hauled myself up the carved drawer handles and stepped onto the polished walnut of the hallway console. Leaning toward the heavy silver-framed mirror, I subjected my visual display to a rigorous executive review. A speck of white carpet lint clung insolently to my lapel; with a flick of my thumb, I banished it. I then grasped my bowtie with both hands, tugging it into razor-sharp symmetry before flashing my sharpest, most electrifying grin at the glass. A leader who commands networks must look undeniably flawless. Prime time demands nothing less.