“Do I want to see it? Sure, my schedule’s wide open,” I say, pretending to look at my phone’s calendar but instead scrolling through images of Pinot.
Bennett hesitates outside the building. “We’re pretty busy. I don’t know if this is a good idea.”
I look past his shoulder, exaggerating my movement. “What are you, a supervillain? You hiding something up there?”
He looks dramatically from side to side to make sure no one’s listening. “I’ve got a couple of blueprints and top-secret codes that are for my eyes only.”
“I promise I won’t tell anyone what I witness or hear.”
He sighs. “Okay, come on,” he says, finally agreeing.
Three levels later, we’re winding our way through narrow hallways in the coworking space. Bennett gives me a brief tour as he shows me through the office. I peek into the spaces of other businesses, where two-person teams sit back-to-back speaking into headsets. I wonder if the businesses willing to pay more get the bright, sun-filled rooms closer to the building’s tall windows, printers, and kitchen area.
The ZodiaCupid headquarters looks more like a dim, oversized conference room where five desks are crammed against walls. It’s located in the back of the building that surely has never seen sunlight, about a mile from the common area.
In the room are four others who are eating lunch at their desks.
“This is Elmer. He’s in charge of development, growth, and payroll,” Bennett says, pointing to a man wearing bright red glasses. “And that’s Carrie, Christof, and Jingwen. They make up our design and engineering teams.” Everyone looks up from their monitors and simultaneously waves.
“That’s Carrie’s pup and our office mascot, Elvis,” Bennett continues, gesturing toward a sleeping bulldog who doesn’t seem to mind my presence.
“Clearly he runs a tight ship around here,” I joke.
“I blame him for the unpaid overtime. This is where I sit.” He gestures toward his astonishingly clean desk. So much for swiping any important documents.
“It’s not what I imagined,” I say, looking around trying to find something, anything, that will give me an indication for what they’re launching next. The only hint of Bennett in this space is the coral sweater from the baking class draped over his chair in a plastic dry cleaning bag. Not a speck of mooncake filling is left, all traces of Bennett’s nice gesture for me wiped away.
“I liked the look of the filling, but I started getting some weird stares so I had to have it cleaned,” Bennett says, catching me looking.
“Too bad. You pulled it off so well,” I joke.
“Can I know the real reason why I had to pay twenty dollars for dry cleaning?” he asks in a slightly amused, curious tone.
I straighten my shoulders, carefully thinking through my word choice. Colette was a former client, but I can’t tell him that. “She was someone I used to know a long time ago,” I share. There. Truthful and vague.
A flash of surprise crosses Bennett’s face. “She? So it wasn’t your ex-boyfriend, like you said?”
Great. My past lies have come back to haunt me. “No. It wasn’t. She was my best friend growing up. But we’re not friends anymore,” I admit.
Bennett nods in understanding. “Well, anytime you need an out, I’m your guy.”
I huff out a quiet laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind. This place is…sterile,” I quickly add, using the change of topics as an opportunity to take another good look at the place. It’s a plain, undecorated room strictly intended for business. No personality on the walls or desks, except one matte black electric kettle in the corner of the beverage nook.
“Yeah, it’s a bit gloomy, but hopefully we’ll be out of here soon. We’re participating in Pitch IRL to attract interested investors.”
Perfect. This is my opening. “Aren’t those highly competitive? How are you feeling about your chances?” I ask. “I thought you’d already have the ins.” Maybe he’s not as seasoned of an entrepreneur as the media claims him to be.
“It’s not how I’d normally go about it, but a local college is hosting the event so business students can watch and learn how to pitch. They asked if we wanted to be involved, and it was hard to turn down. I would’ve loved to attend something like that when I was in school. I even got some of my investor buddies and former business partners to be involved for the Q and A at the end.”
Why does Bennett have to be such a good guy? It’s making my life very difficult.
“What happens if no one invests?” I continue.
“Then we keep trying. I’ve poured my savings into this business, so we’ll be able to keep going for a few months. Ultimately, failure isn’t an option.”
“It’s better optics for us to launch on or before Lunar New Year,” Elmer adds. “After all, it’s, you know, the holiday that ushers in the next year’s zodiac animal.”
“It’s a great time to launch,” I acknowledge reluctantly. “So, what’s everyone working on?” I step closer to the engineers’ desks, hoping to see something that might provide some clues. There’s just a bunch of code against dark screens.
“We’re gearing up to ship a big feature for the beta. If users like it, we’ll improve upon it for the app’s official launch,” Bennett shares.
“Ooh, what is it?” I ask, making sure to sound overeager.
“I can’t share the details just yet, but I’m hoping you’ll like it. Though we did recently implement an algorithm that connects users based on the good feedback other users give after dates.” Bennett sounds excited. “If a user is looking for a particular trait, let’s say good manners as an example, and another user writes that their date had good manners in the feedback, we can use that information to better connect them if the first match doesn’t work out.”
I nod, soaking up every last word. Inside, I shrink. How can we possibly keep up with an algorithm? We are the algorithm. I am the algorithm.
Suddenly, Elmer sits up in his seat and shouts, “Yes!” His red glasses sitting on top of his head fall in front of his forehead.
“What’ve we got?” Bennett asks, walking over to Elmer’s desk. I edge closer so I can see his screen. On his monitors are colorful graphs moving in a mostly upward direction, high numbers, and well-portioned pie charts.
“We just hit match three thousand!” Elmer says, grinning.
“That number will be a lot higher when we launch nationwide. How can we get that number even higher before the next press release?” Bennett asks as he hurriedly reviews the data analytics charts on Elmer’s screen.
If we sacrificed quality and could work as fast as an algorithm, we’d have that many matches, too. It’s quality over quantity, I repeat to myself.
Bennett pumps his fist in the air. “And sixty users deleted their accounts with feedback saying they matched and no longer need the service.”
Oof. I bet he won’t be happy about that. I can’t imagine quitting clients fits into his future investors’ business plan. “That fast?” I mumble. I don’t try to contain my surprised look.