for Derek and I concentrate closely as Olly answers.
‘You’re single and there’s a reason for that,’ Olly notes, taking me by surprise. ‘You obviously have standards. We respect those standards. Other agencies might try to talk you into lowering your standards but we’re not like that. We’re confident that we can find you the partner of your dreams, someone who fits all your criteria.’ Olly smiles confidently, and I find myself smiling back, even though on the inside, I’m withering.
He’s just like the kitchen salesman back home, from the confident way he promises to fulfil a vision to his charming sycophantic smile. But unlike the kitchen salesman, who’s slightly smarmy, overly confident sales pitch was just a bit annoying, Olly’s approach is kind of depressing. It’s one thing selling kitchens, it’s a whole other ballpark to sell love. Olly reduces relationships to criteria. To him, falling in love takes place over billable timescales. He probably considers dates to be deliverables. My heart feels like it’s shrivelling up inside my chest.
‘So, how does that sound?’ Olly asks again, in a confident upbeat tone.
‘It sounds great!’ I lie. ‘With the criteria and timescales, it couldn’t be more efficient!’ I plaster a smile across my face.
‘Exactly!’ Olly beams back.
‘Fabulous! Well, I’ll sleep on it – I’m not one to make decisions on the cuff,’ I tell Olly and as I expected, he nods understandingly.
‘Absolutely,’ he says.
Of course, he respects my need to weigh up the investment decision that is finding a partner. He probably thinks I’m going to go home and do a cost-benefit analysis or use a pivot table to analyse my options.
‘Well, thanks a lot for today. I’ll be in touch!’ I insist, getting up to go.
Olly copies, rising to his fee.
‘So…’ he ventures. ‘How about I give you a call in a few days and you can let me know your thoughts?’
‘Absolutely!’ I enthuse as I slip my arms into my jacket. ‘Sounds great!’
‘Great!’ Olly echoes with a smile.
He opens his office door and ushers me out, offering to walk me to the lift. As we pass through the office, I glance around at the staff. There must be at least twenty of them and they all look incredibly cool and well-dressed. They couldn’t be more different to the way Derek and I look at work, with me in my lumberjack gear and Derek in his aviator-style glasses with his shirt covered in a near-constant dusting of Oreo crumbs.
‘I never realised dating agencies had so many staff,’ I comment.
‘Oh.’ Olly glances over his shoulder at his fashionable team as he presses the button for the lift. ‘They don’t all work for Elite Love Match,’ he tells me.
‘Who do they work for?’
‘I own a PR agency. I handle quite a lot of the Elite Love Match work, with the help of my assistant and a couple of others. That lot—’ he gestures over at his team ‘—they handle PR.’
‘I see.’ I nod. ‘That must be great having both of your businesses under one roof,’ I say, making glib chit chat while we wait for the lift to arrive.
Meanwhile, I make a mental note to pass on this useful nugget of information to Derek. I wonder whether he realises that Elite Love Match is a relatively small operation – no bigger than To the Moon & Back.
‘Well, it was great meeting you.’ Olly pumps my hand and gives me his dashing smile, which I’m getting the feeling is a pretty well-used tool in his arsenal of charming moves.
‘You too.’
‘I’d love to work with you and I’m confident I can find you the man of your dreams,’ Olly says, eyeing me with a look of sparkling intensity.
The man of my dreams. The words linger in the air between us. His hand is still clasping mine. We’re holding each other’s gaze and I feel suddenly, acutely aware of his palm against mine. Neither of us can quite look away, and I can’t help wondering what he’s thinking. Is the soft tender look in his eyes part of his sales pitch or is it something else? I gaze into his eyes, trying to figure it out, when all of a sudden, the lift doors start beeping as they close.
‘Oh, damn it.’ Olly steps forward and blocks the doors from closing, letting me inside.
‘Sorry about that, Polly,’ he says, with an apologetic and almost sheepish smile. ‘I hope to hear from you soon.’
‘Of course. Speak soon,’ I utter, still reeling. What happened just then? I smile politely and Olly smiles back – not his dashing salesman smile this time, but a softer, almost wistful one – as the lift doors close.
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