A DATE TO REMEMBER ALL DATES

"So that explains this slump_our women users are swiping left, right?”

Three pairs of eyes locked eyes with one another; pregnant silence followed. Then, in a perfectly synchronised gesture, all turned their heads towards the centre, and mouthed in unison...YES.

The single syllabic word hung in the air for a good sixty seconds, therafter.

A deathly silence filled the lake facing gargantuan all glass heart-shaped conference room.

The affirmation, uttered in a low octave, slowly faded away. Its echoes bouncing off the exquisite peach coloured walls that wrapped around the comfy room that could rival in size a full tennis court and then some; plus, match an ultra cool London night lounge in its kaleidoscopic grandiosity.

And why wouldn't it!

After all not everyday does a dating company reach pole position with such a bang, register the fastest growth ever. What Blind Dates had achieved in a mere 14 calendar months, several other start ups could only dream of emulating_near dominant market share and enviable cult status. Also, an ever growing user base that was its owner’s pride, neighbours' envy.

Add to this, the beckoning world of the wannabe yuppies_the Forever 18s, all deliriously excited Ferris Wheel swingers dying to enter Eden's Garden and savour their first heavenly delights, tantalisating twenty somethings, and long past expiration dates merry has beens looking for that one final salvo before falling off the Earth's radar. And, of course, jostling, clamouring for eyeballs amidst all these adrenaline charged merry makers_the in-betweens, those happily married ‘martyrs’, ever looking for some action on the sly.

Voila! and what have you!

A heady cocktail collision and collusion of movers and shakers, all deliriously conspiring in some magical, ethereal serendipitous gesture to help anoint Blind Dates as the number one billion dollar match making company in the entire universe!

The man credited to having achieved this phenomenal growth, the man the world and its nanny had come to know and acknowledge as the 'New Age Icon', 'Messiah of Businessdom', stared back, his handsome dimpled face, a criss-cross of worry lines.

He picked up a paper weight, and held it close to his temple, a gesture threatening enough for the two men and lone woman that sat encircling him to exchange furtive, worrisome glances.

Something about their countenances alerted the man.

He put down the paper weight, and looked towards a framed all gold smiling photograph of himself receiving a plaque from no less than the President of France.

The words, etched in calligraphic gold elicited a smile.

The legend read: In honour of Mr Mathew Lovebridge, CEO, Blind Dates.

The moment seemed to have triggered some happy remembrances.

Lovebridge slumped back in his jet black swivel chair and closed his eyes, black button crinkly eyes that sat pretty over a perfectly oval face that a leading women’s fashion magazine had gushingly likened to that of perennial lover boy George Clooney's.

Side sweeping his thick mop of jet black hair, Love, (all his 75 member staff addressed him so!) angled his head towards the marbled false ceiling ala a Buddhist Tibetan monk in solitary penance, lost to the world, mind and heart moored to the snow capped Himalayan skies above.

The three pairs of eyes waited an eternity; their plight not unlike that of shipwrecked crew members careened at sea, hoping for their valiant captain to deliver them to safe harbour.

As if mindful of their plight, the boss opened his Shiva's Third Eye, and thundered,

'Ok, let's rescue our Titanic'.

Something in that sanguine deliverance, maybe the assured richness of the high octave baritone that punctured the silence seemed to have halted the falling spirits of the team members.

Everyone pulled up straight, and put on their thinking caps.

'Gentlemen, and dear lady (soft velvety eyes made slow love to the svelte figure clad in an off grey polka dotted chiffon top and maroon half skirt strategically slit at the edges to reveal a pair of perfectly shaped long legs)'.

"A minute is what I give you to come up with a solution".

Muttered breaths followed, papers ruffled, feet shuffled, Ipads and tablets flipped open, screens came alive with dancing red and blue dots.

The Clooney effect was at work!

The lady too, her kohl lined eyes suddenly brightening up like a thousand watt bulb.

"I propose..."

"Hold on, Macy"!

Lovebridge's dulcet voice was firm.

"Before we go around putting in place a plan of action, I want Clive to run us through the latest figures."

Quick on the uptake, Clive Havemore, the fifty-year-old Chief Financial Officer coughed a little, and proceeded to rattle off the numbers, his fingers furiously stabbing his Apple keyboard faster than a New York Philharmonic orchestra conductor.

'Love, this is the sixth straight week that Blind Dates has registered a double digit fall. 28.9 per cent...that's the market pie we have lost in the past one month. In fact, on a week to week basis, our market share loss is now peaking at an alarming 958 registered users per day. At this rate we will soon..."

"That's enough, Clive. I've got the gist."

The CXO's voice betrayed a trace of irritation.

An aberration.

Known as more of a go getter person, Love was not wont to waste his time in endless, circumambulatory tic tacs.

It was the cue for Albert Lingstone, Chief Strategy Officer, to step in.

The 35 year old Ivy School topper cleared his throat, and, his eyes glued to the only person who mattered to him, his boss, spoke in an oracular tone, "Love, I spent whole of last week studying our sliding charts. It is clear that we are losing ground. Women, who accounted for over 59 per cent of our client base are now upset; several are logging off from our platform. Our marketing surveys all state that they are unhappy, and for a particular reason. And that is..."

The CXO rubbed his temples, wiping off imaginary beads of sweat.

Albert, the master communicator, let the three words hang in the air for a while.

With all eyes focused on him, Albert let the cat out of the bag: HEIGHT.

'A what!!!'

The words were a spider's wasp that spun around and stung even the most pachydermic of souls in the room.

'Height, you said?"

CXO Love scratched the bridge of his nose, his face a picture of incredulity.

"How's...wait...stop...tell me what’s all this about, Mr Albert.?"

Al to Mr Albert? He needed to tread cautiously.

The boss would need a little convincing, Albert reminded himself.

Measuring his words carefully, he volleyed, "Love, our surveys have revealed women believe either Blind Date is a cheat, or our male patrons are so. Or, worse...both."

A gasp escaped from more than a few lips.

Unmindful, Albert continued, “Love, the social media is choc-o-bloc with indignant women pouring out their angst.

Here, sample these:

"Men fake their bios” “Men don't reveal their accurate heights. A 5'10' turns out to be a 5 '3'. A midget, a measly 4' 4 shamelessly declares himself to be a 5'9.”

As all stared on, he continued, “And the things that seems to have riled women the most is this...a shocking 52 per cent of our 21 million male subscribers announce themselves as majestic six footers", wherein in reality most of them fall a little shy of 5' 7'."

From thereon, Alrbert had the undivided attention of one and all.

And by the time he ended his brief five minute presentation, all were on the same page, all nodding their heads, all eyes now directed towards Love__their captain, their saviour, their Moses.

All wondering, waiting with a heightened sense of anticipation what would be their 'super human' boss's next step?

How would he lead his sheep to deliverance, to the proverbial parting of the Red Sea, and then up the straight path leading into the Kingdom of Heaven----recapturing Blind Date's numero uno position in the highly competitive ‘winner takes all’ dating industry sweepstakes.

Not known to much theatrics, taciturn to the core, CXO Lovebridge declared, "Ok, so let's bring in a Height Verification Tool".

As pin drop silence followed, the CXO marched on.

"With this new feature, we’ll let the women know we aren't cheats. Let them measure the height of their prospects...yeah, let us scream out our transparency. This will bring back the Doubting Thomases err...the Marys and Janes and Jills snuggling back to our comfy cocoons."

It took not one nano second's ditherence for the ayes, aahs, and wows to pour in.

The 'Inner Circle', Love's coterie competed to outbid one another in their affirmation of 'such a super brilliant idea.'

'The most inventive, innovative, creative brainwave in the history of marketing', cooed Foxtrot Williams, the hot shot Sales Head, who was known (or, is it ill known!?) for his serpentine slyness, a devilish trait that he very deftly cloaked in a shining countenance that was further accentuated with a sparkling pearly white 32-teeth Cherry Blossom smile.

As the air lightened up, and everybody had lathered fulsome praise on the 'super ingeniousness’ of Love, it was left to the lone feminine spark in the congregation to chip in with the all important detail.

The lady, whose hour glass figure and porcelain bone China face that screamed 'sexy innocence' was the talk of all Paris, and had over half the male population that resided in a square mile radius of her upscale duplex apartment that she shared with her lone cat and the occasional 'inquisite' visitor, intoned, her words honey dipped.

"Love, I believe we should announce this in the next 24 hours, just in time for All Fòol's Day."

Love studied his protege, the love shone in his eyes matched hers.

'Good! Then, even if someone were to call out our bluff, we could fall back and say that it was all an innocent April Fool prank.'

The CXO's statement was rhetorical; as such did not merit an answer_simply blind adherence.

Thus, the meeting wound up.

It was decided that 29 year old Ms Tracy Dartmouth, Chief Digital Officer, would activate this new plan.

****

24 hours later...

10 AM

CXO SUITE,

13 TH FLOOR

BLIND DATES HQRS.

PARIS

For a long time stared Love stared at the fax that lay on his desk_spreadeagled like a dead fish bobbing in the ocean.

In bold Times Roman 12, the words leapt out at him like a voracious lioness ready to tear asunder his 40 year old muscular torso.

'Dear Mr Lovebridge, the Board regrets to announce your services have been terminated with immediate effect. You are to vacate the premises within the hour. Your final dues shall be settled and deposited into your bank account by e.o.d.'

Signed

Stephen Wilfred,

Chairman

Oakland Communications Inc (Parent Company of

Blind Dates)

Like one who had stumbled upon the Devil himsled, Love's virile visage morphed into deathly white.

Despite the air conditioner, the heat got to him as droplets of sweat trickled down the back of his spine.

As the air around him further rarefied and Love found himself gasping for breath, his battered mindscape struggled with what could plausibly have gone wrong?

For the next two whole minutes his rattled mind grappled with a melange of who’s and why’s and what’s and how’s...the reason for his ignominious exit.

The phone call from Albert saved him from further agony.

"Love, I...I am...we're...we all are...we are deeply sorry for what has happened. This was the best campaign! A never before stupendous advertising blitzkrieg! I mean who would have done anything better. Our sales pitch was the talk of the town. Ad pundits were in unison. All singing eulogies: Great campaign. Worthy of an Emmy or two! But then, by afternoon, everything began to fall apart. Our pitch: 'Blind Dates introduces Height Verification Tool', 'Women, your golden gift from Blind Dates...'Women, it's time we taught men how to walk in their own shoes....another...'Men, it's time you changed your attitude so as to gain much needed altitude' _all sure fire winners, all slogans we thought would be lapped by the men and women have backfired. It seems men are an insecure breed, have zero sense of humour".

As a shell shocked Love heard on, Al continued, 'Within the hour, Twitterdom was awsh with 'deeply aghast men', all hurling vituperative abuses at women and at Blind Dates.

The trolls went ballistic.

'How about a Weight Verification Tool? How about women who hide their bloated warts and puffy faces behind heavily photoshopped layers? What has Blind Dates to say to that?'

Love quietly heard out the last of Al's damning words.

"Love, the Board is upset. The men are fast logging out. Blind Dates will soon become history... I...i'm so so sorrý. The Board has thrown you to the wolves. You're the fall guy”.

The words hung around Love's neck like an Albatross' cross long after Al made a near tearful exit.

After what seemed an eternity, Love picked up his crocodile leather briefcase, and lumbered out of the office, his home for the past over 39 months.

He needn't meet anyone; none waited on him, none would miss him, he surmised.

The ride down the elevator took a lifetime.

As he stumbled towards the parking lot, he realised he had no car_the silver grey top end bespoke Mercedes E Class was no longer his.

He dipped his fingers into the glove box, fished out the car keys, and flung them towards the aged guard, who looked like he'd just been told his grandmother was dead.

Once on the street, a quick call, brought a graveyard black Uber at his feet.

Perhaps the aggregator's algorithm was blessed with AI, could detect which of its patrons were headed to the morgue!

As the car wheels pulled away from the imposing 24 story all marble Blind Dates Tower, Love craned his neck to give one last look at what kind of a life had been so uncerimoniously snatched away from him.

***

Thirty minutes later…

At first he didn't hear it.

It was only on the third ring that he picked it up.

The voice at the other end was a familiar one.

"It started as an April Fool's Joke. But now, the joke’s on you. The Board’s pulled a fast one this time!"

The words hit Love like a ten tonne truck.

He started to feel delusional.

Was he dreaming? Or, is this still a nightmare?

The words from the other end were pure Manna to his battered mind. Baby, relax! and pinch yourself for what I’m saying is one hundred per cent the truth. I am the only one who was privy to the Chairman’s prank. Everyone else thinks you've been fired.”

Love pressed his IPhone closer to his left ear. There was still another ten minutes to his home. 

The voice at the other end continued.

“It's true our campaign did rile a few men. And yes...there were a few very nasty trolls, too. Quite a few men have jumped ship. But, here, mark my words, and these are the exact words the Chariman told me when he called me this morning: "Tracy, I know you are close to Love. But, please, let's give our rock star a wee bit of an electric jolt. What's life and an April 1 without a little fun".

Love head spun. He pinched himself twice. His lips formed an 'O'', but words failed him.

"My dear, our Chairman truly believes you are his Moses. Wants to see you tomorrow at your desk, back to the roaring lion that you are. Again his words, not mine!"

For the first time in over an hour, Love's lips curled up in a smile.

The damsel on the other end ended the tete e tete.

"My place. 20 minutes. Today, you’ll get to know what real women look for in their dates. From one love to another.”

The last words simply melted Love; his smile, his most dazzling Clooney smile was back.