Netflix’s co-CEO Greg Peters—the one who isn’t Ted Sarandos—essentially shrugged at the backlash surrounding Meghan Markle’s lifestyle cooking show With Love, Meghan, and said, “So what if people hate it? They’re still watching.”
That’s the part that matters to Netflix. But let’s rewind a bit. Meghan, now moonlighting as the Duchess of Designer Aprons, debuted a feel-good cooking show aimed at uplifting souls and showcasing artisanal bread—but instead, it served up an all-you-can-eat buffet for online ridicule. The viewers came, not for the recipes, but with metaphorical Tupperware and a hunger for drama. The comment sections turned into a communal roast, with the show as the main course.
Despite the mockery, Netflix didn’t flinch. In an interview addressing the controversy, Peters responded with all the poise of a man watching subscriber numbers climb. “What we look at is viewing behavior,” he said coolly. Translation: public outrage is just another metric, and if hate-watching keeps the streams rolling, Netflix is winning. Viewers clicking in out of spite, curiosity, or secondhand embarrassment all count toward engagement. Meghan wasn’t thrown to the wolves; Netflix plated her up and let the internet dig in—medium rare.
They didn’t even disable the YouTube comments. Why would they? That’s where the real show was. The roasting was so ruthless Gordon Ramsay might’ve been taking notes. With Love, Meghan was marketed like it was going to be Oprah meets Ina Garten. What audiences got, however, was more like a Pinterest board with a royal title slapped on. It didn’t just miss the Top 10—it barely cracked the Top 20 globally. Six international shows in other languages outperformed it that week. So much for global icon status.
Still, Netflix doesn’t seem bothered. Part two of the show is already in the can, and despite the online dragging, they’ve kept Meghan’s footage intact. Why? Because clicks equal cash, and rage-watching pays the bills. Meghan spends five episodes subtly shading royal tradition, all while clinging to her duchess title like it’s a promo code for Whole Foods. It’s hard to play the rebel while cashing in on the crown. And where’s Harry, Duke of Montecito and Patron Saint of Podcast Flops? Silent. Watching his wife spiral in high-definition, all for a paycheck he didn’t earn.
This is what fuels the Sussex brand: your clicks, your outrage, your eye-rolls. Even if you’re watching just to see how bad it is, you’re still watching—and that’s money. Netflix isn’t interested in irony; they’re interested in data. Meanwhile, Ted Sarandos, reportedly the Sussexes’ champion in the boardroom, might be sweating a little. Rumors swirl that his time as co-CEO could be running out. Greg Peters is giving off subtle Game of Thrones energy, and there might just be a quiet coup brewing.
In the end, Meghan’s show flopped, the audience groaned, but Netflix walked away counting streams like coins. Welcome to modern entertainment, where even your most public failures can land you a sequel—and maybe a raise.
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