Lunar Love (26)

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.

Bennett somehow hears me. “You look shocked by that number, but quitting clients is a good thing usually. It means they’ve successfully matched. We’ll be able to use this data for the pitch. We want these metrics for our marketing to attract more users.”

I can practically see the money signs in his eyes.

“When you lose people—users, sorry—how much do you anticipate that affecting your bottom line?” I ask, cringing at my own use of corporate-speak. “Do you try to win them back?”

Bennett looks at me curiously. He leans back and crosses his arms.

“We have hundreds of people signing up to be in the beta every day. It’s hard to keep track of them individually. And when we launch, we anticipate there being way more users. Eighty-seven percent of surveyed beta users have expressed interest in upgrading to the paid service to get more of our benefits once we have it ready,” he explains. “We’re doing well, but of course there’s always room for improvement.”

“I see,” I say, smiling wanly. Quality over quantity. Quality over quantity. “Sounds like everything’s working out.”

“It’s…working. Either way, we try to celebrate milestones both big and small. Yesterday we celebrated putting a new verification system into effect to validate animal signs. We had some data indicating that users weren’t being truthful about who they were on the site. Now we confirm birthdays to prevent any funny business. You know what I mean?”

“Can’t trust anyone,” I say, looking him straight in the eye. They have to verify because they never meet people face-to-face and get to know them. “Do you think asking for proof of identity will scare people away?”

“If it does, good,” he says. “Ultimately, we want our users to choose us because they want to find love in an honest and safe way, even if this limits sign-ups or leads to drop-offs. It might sound obvious, but these are the lessons we’re learning as we go.”

“Super,” I say. “That’s just super.”

“We want users to be into the Chinese zodiac, but not too into it,” Elmer chimes in from across the room. “If users try to get all introspective about which of the four zodiac elements they are, then they’ll probably be disappointed.”

“Five,” I murmur.

“What?” Elmer asks. He pushes his glasses back on top of his head.

“Never mind,” I say. It’s not worth the energy.

Instead, Bennett speaks up. “There are actually five elements. Metal, Water, Wood, Fire, and Earth.”