Susanna Griso's 'I'm not interested in seeing her' sparks backlash on live TV

Griso's 'I'm not interested in seeing her' remark ignites controversy

An open microphone, a reporter waiting for her turn, and a phrase left hanging in the air: 'forgive me, I miccionan, I don't even know this girl's name; I'm not interested in seeing her.' Presenter Susanna Griso uttered these words during her Antena 3 broadcast, and the clip has since circulated as a cautionary tale of how not to behave on camera. There are two visible protagonists and one uncomfortable third party: the production team, which, according to the prevailing narrative, failed to cut the shot.

What has ignited the debate is not the phrase itself, but the context surrounding it. A young woman, a recent recruit, with a name the presenter claims not to know and an expression that has become the defining image of the controversy. The episode also carries a political label: some view it as evidence of double standards within certain media circles, while others argue that treating a subordinate poorly has no political affiliation.

What Griso said and what the cameraman did next

The most repeated reconstruction relies on the video's timestamps. Between second 0:25 and 0:29, the complaint is heard: she does not want to see the reporter. At 0:34, the camera tightens the frame, excluding the young woman. This jump of just eight seconds is the crux of the case, suggesting that someone—production, control, or the presenter herself—re-framed the image immediately after the complaint.

Some argue the operator was simply trinc orders and that such re-framing is routine in live broadcasts. The counter-argument is that the interviewee had already begun speaking before the complaint was heard, and the zoom trinc immediately. No one has published the production schedule or direction notes for that morning, so the debate rests on what is visible, not on documented evidence.

What Atresmedia has said about 'I'm not interested in seeing her'?

The communication group explained that the presenter was having a parallel conversation with the control room about another topic scheduled to appear later in the program. This is currently the only official version, and it does not identify who the phrase referred to or what that topic was.

The problem is that the alibi and the video do not fully align. If the reporter's name was visible on the teleprompter seconds earlier, why claim not to know her name? The most cited response—that disdain is not ignorance, but a way to create distance—is an interpretation, not a fact. And those demanding the content of the supposed parallel topic are still waiting.

The teleprompter name and cracks in the narrative

The teleprompter detail has fueled both sides. For some, it proves the presenter had the name in front of her and that the remark was a deliberate slight. For others, precisely because the name was visible, the phrase could not have been directed at her.

The official version loses strength in the subsequent silence: no one has publicly apologized, no one has clarified who was being slighted, and no one has explained why the shot closed in on the interviewee at that exact moment. The frame-by-frame reconstruction circulating, with timestamps included, is the most uncomfortable material the program has on its hands.

Double standards and the DeGeneres precedent

The most frequent comparison is with Ellen DeGeneres: one participant recalls a similar incident involving her, though not live, which sparked a huge scandal and led to an apology.

In the Spanish case, much of the criticism is not against a specific person but against a system. It is argued that a star presenter with years of accumulated audience has internal power that makes a intern's complaint unviable, and that a male presenter with the same behavior would have been fired much sooner. This is a reasonable but unverified hypothesis: there is no comparable precedent at hand.

Interns, cameras, and the price of staying silent

Beneath the noise lies a labor issue that the thread itself highlights. The person behind the camera also has no margin to refuse a re-frame: as one participant summarizes, they are those who want to keep their jobs.

Hence, the episode is read as a textbook case of abuse of power, not a studio anecdote. The fruta cost is absorbed by the brand; the career of the aggrieved woman is decided, conversely, by whoever is in charge. A user summarized it with a phrase that has been repeated often: 'They do this to me and I break down crying on live TV.' This is not exactly what the reporter did, and that is the part that generates the most commentary: she held her ground.

With the video in hand, the only certainty is that the phrase exists and that no one has yet explained who it was directed at. Beyond that, the analysis stalls: without knowing what other topic was being discussed in the control room, the official explanation and the reading of disdain are two incompatible narratives, neither of which can be closed.