Michele Hewitson Interview: Brent Impey

Former MediaWorks chief executive Brent Impey says he had to 'de-tox' from radio and TV when he went on gardening leave at the end of 2009. Photo / Richard Robinson

There was a bloke on the second-floor balcony of the Kohimarama apartment talking on a cellphone. He looked like a bloke talking on a cell- phone, about whom you'd probably think, oh, there's some bloke on a balcony, probably a rich one, because only rich people live in apartments on Tamaki Drive.

But other than that, Brent Impey is not in any way a face on a balcony, or anywhere, recognisable to many people. He used to be a very powerful man. I knew he was Brent Impey, formerly a very powerful man because, obviously, I had his address and an appointment.

I only knew what he looked like because I'd Googled pictures of him before going to see him. He looks like a bloke wearing a former CEO's idea of gardening leave garb: business shirt without a tie, dress pants, black R M Williams boots that looked brand spanking new.

From Monday he will take over Maggie Barry's vacated Drive Time slot on Radio Live. The hosts on Radio Live all had profiles before they got their radio gigs, which is another way of saying that their mugs are familiar.

The bloke on the balcony, the former CEO of MediaWorks (which TV3, Radio Live, The Rock and a swag of other radio stations) was, before he went on gardening leave at the end of 2009, variously described as one of the most powerful people in the country (number 10 on a Power List) and as "a tough bastard".

But who knew what he looked like? Hardly anyone outside the industry - or even within, which is why I had to Google him. He is on a short contract for his radio gig, until the end of March, at which point, if his former employers like him and he likes the job, he could stay on.

I wondered whether the gig - he says all of his jobs, including and perhaps most particularly his almost a decade as the big boss at MediaWorks, have just been "gigs"; he claims to be competitive but not ambitious - was a sweetener, part of his bugger-off deal.

"No," he said, laughing at my silly attempt to get him to admit he was given the boot, "this is separate to that. Nothing to do with my 'bugger- off deal' as you put it." (He used to be a lawyer, before he got bored with never "making anything" or being "actually in the play", so there is no use trying to trick him.)

He must have got a nice big payout. He did, of course, but he's not about to tell me how much. "Well, I think that's confidential to me. When I left, I was satisfied with the terms of my departure." I did ask again later about how much, and the tough bastard came out and said, "that's none of your business".

I'd heard that he told Ironbridge (which owns MediaWorks) to eff off; that he'd called it rude names.

When very powerful blokes "leave" companies a patsy press release is issued saying they have had a mutual parting of the ways with the company. This usually means that they have been given the boot. "Well, I don't think 'boot' is right." Is the effing off etc right? "Ha, ha. I didn't want to work for them and they didn't want to work with me."

Given his reputation for a robust turn of phrase, it would come as no great surprise to learn that he did use such terms, now would it? "No. But you'll have to speculate on that because I'm still on garden leave."

This means that under the standard terms of his mutual parting of the ways deal he is not allowed to slag off the company. "There's a clause which says you can't be disparaging ... so that's why I'm not answering your question. Come back in April."

That is probably his idea of a joke. He is far too circumspect, and clever, to go around slagging off a company which - depending on how his Radio Live debut goes - owns the company who will be employing him to do his radio slot. There is no profit to be had in having a go.

"No, and I wouldn't do it anyway, because once you've resigned you're out of the loop." He said "resigned" in a pointed way. He said, "once I've finished the gig, that's it. I haven't taken any interest in the way the business has been going since I left". He said "left" in an even pointier way. He had a reputation for being a good, loyal boss, but you wouldn't have wanted to make him cross.

How powerful was he? Not quite powerful enough, according to him. He says he has made thousands of mistakes, the biggest of which was not "forcing" TV3 to hire his good mate, Paul Henry, for the breakfast show.

If he was in his old job now he would be chasing Henry. "Because I believe he is one of the very few key talents."

He is "not particularly right-wing", he says, to which I'd say, hmm. He says he is a pragmatist. He stood for the Values Party when he was a student at Victoria University.

He says he still believes in that defunct party's conservation plank but "as time goes on I think I have become more supportive of a more independent economic view". Which is generally what happens to former Lefties when they start making a lot of money.

"Or they realise that there is more than just a single issue; there's a whole range of things."

Just what we need, I said, another right-wing radio host. "I don't think that's fair," he said, trying and failing miserably to look miffed.

"Who said I'm going to be right wing?" He is. "I'm a pragmatist." He "wouldn't make the distinction" about whether he'd rather have a drink with Willie Jackson or John Tamihere (also Radio Live hosts), but that his political views would be closer to Tamihere's.

He did radio many, many years ago, on Radio Pacific, in the 80s. He might be a bit nervous about Monday. 'No." He doesn't get nervous. "No, actually. I've had years and years in the media." He says he was "average" when he was on the radio 20 years ago.

Surely, because he's fiercely competitive, he's nervous about whether he'll be any good. "No." A tough bastard, then. He probably takes that as a compliment. "No. That's someone's perception. You do have to have elements of toughness. So I accept that sort of perception."

It is not a bad reputation to have for a radio host, either.

He is used to power, and to being thought to be good at his job; to, presumably, being respected. If he's no good it'll be a pretty public humiliation. "Absolutely."

Could he deal with that? "You have to take your choices in life, don't you? You either go in and give it a crack, or you don't. That doesn't worry me." He is supremely self-confident. He has the buffer of enough money, of course, but also of success. "Look, I'm in it for the fun and the challenge."

I gave him a crack at interviewing me. His question was: Why had I come to see him today? That was a good question, but I'd already posed it by way of a question that couldn't help but sound a bit rude: What was he going to do about his lack of profile? "That's part of the challenge," he said. "That's why I agreed to give you an interview."

He is not used to being interviewed except as a CEO, about business stuff and controversies created by people other than him (Corngate; the medal thief as played by an actor stuff-up.)

He has to have a public personality now, which may be why the first thing he said was, "this is my man cave!" He likes to talk about his not at all cavey man pad, so he probably says it to every visitor.

When he bought his minimalist apartment - all sleek white and black and not, I thought, very manly: "It depends what your idea of manly is," he said - he bought all the furniture too. He says, why not? The stuff was for sale, and he liked it. It also, although he doesn't say this, saved him going furniture shopping. He is, and he does say this, an impatient person, who gets bored easily.

He's been around the media long enough to know that if he welcomes a journalist to his place and announces, proudly, that it is his man cave, he'll then be asked to explain why he lives, on his own, in an apartment. He did live in a posh house, in St Heliers. He was married for 26 years, and now he's not.

He answered my questions about his current living arrangements, but asked that I didn't say much more than that. He didn't want to cause more hurt. That's fair enough.

I did ask whether he'd had some sort of crisis because leaving a marriage after 26 years sounds like some sort of crisis, but, no, he insists he hasn't. I believe him because he is too impatient to entertain a crisis; it would bore him after about 10 minutes.

He didn't mind me saying he now has a partner, Wendy Palmer, who is the general manager, Auckland, for MediaWorks. It is perhaps one thing to announce that you live in a man cave but another to be seen as a sad-sack bachelor at the age of 59.

On this matter of life changes, I wondered what happens to someone who is used to being the big boss and who has invested everything including, according to me, self-worth and ego, in being the big boss, when you are no longer. He says I'm over-emphasising the ego part of the equation, but that he did have to put himself through a "de-tox".

This involved not watching TV or listening to the radio for some months. He says he did examine how much his ego was involved in his job, but I'd guess he's not much given to navel-gazing: like crises and furniture shopping, too boring.

His cellphone ring is The Gambler, which he says is the greatest song ever written because - and you could have guessed this - "that's what life is".

He has a couple of ideas for his radio show but I'm not allowed to tell you what they are "for competitive reasons".

He did tell me and one of his ideas made me groan and put my head in my hands. He said, "you don't have to like it". Fans of Paul Henry's brand of humour may appreciate his idea. I thought he was a serious person.

"Who said I was a serious person?" Can he be a silly person? "I could be." He said he might offer me a slot on his show, so he's certainly working on it.