. . . a game plan #2
We nod and she sits back down, laptop remaining closed.
‘I saw the video – we all did – it was hilarious. You are witty and honest, and relatable in all the right ways. I can see that girl with a column, but I’m afraid that what you’ve pitched today is, frankly, not that girl.
I couldn’t tell you anything about the coffee you made in that video and I doubt the millions who saw it could either.
But I could probably recite a couple of your jokes about your ex in bed, or your four-minute run-on about the wasteland of dating apps. ’
She stops to study my face, searching for any sign of weakness, no doubt as an excuse to send me on my way. So I stay strong and show her I can handle critique, while I trace my mind back to my five weeks of university and remember my lecturer’s advice.
‘Pitch what you know.’
Or in my case, don’t know.
I meet her eyes and fix her with a determined glare.
‘I’ve never really dated. I had a boyfriend for five years and have spent the last year learning who I am without him.
I came out as bisexual, I threw myself into my job and my account, and I tried the apps, but, honestly, they get tired real fast, as you know from my video.
I’m bored of them. Everyone’s bored of them, but we all feel like we have no other choice.
What if I find new options? What if I go on a bunch of dates as a novice dater and explore all the different ways you can find people? ’
I can feel Paige’s whole stance relax and it, in turn, causes my spine to unfurl. A small smile flitters across Analeise’s lips, and, suddenly, it feels like all hope is not lost. That is, until her smile drops again.
‘You’ve got the modern-dating side down, yes. But we are a travel magazine first and foremost . . .’ she says plainly.
‘And I’ve never really travelled either!
’ I say. ‘Or, at least, not properly. But I used to love your solo travel series back in the day. I was gutted when it ended. In fact, I could bring it back with a twist . . . What if I killed two birds with one stone and took these dates all over the globe? It’s adventuring with a fun, flirty angle to it .
. .’ I search my brain for a fun title. ‘Around the world in eighty dates.’
Analeise clasps her hands together and squeals in a quick fit of glee, prompting Paige to do the same.
‘I love it!’
‘Seriously?’ I say in disbelief.
‘Of course she does!’ Paige rushes to say, slapping me lightly on the arm. ‘It’s genius. Isn’t it genius? Let’s lock this in with a shake.’
Analeise chuckles.
‘Not quite yet – let’s talk logistics. How long would you need for eighty dates? Six months?’ she asks.
I nearly choke on my saliva. I haven’t dated, ever. How on earth am I supposed to fit eighty dates into six months? ‘That seems a bit . . . rushed?’
She shakes her head.
‘It’s all I’d be able to clear with our budget.
And let’s go slightly smaller. We cannot comp flights round the world – especially with our big environmental push at the moment.
But we could wrangle you a complimentary rail pass that allows you to travel by train around Europe? ’ She looks up at me for approval.
‘Sure, of course, but then the name . . .’
She waves a hand. ‘We’re keeping the name – it’s perfect. We’ll add disclaimers about the fact it’s not the whole world.’
‘Is that enough?’ Paige asks.
‘It will have to be,’ Analeise replies. She grabs her phone’s calculator, poking at the screen. ‘With the pass sorted, you’ll need enough for seat reservations, food and board. I’m thinking three-fifty an article . . . plus per diem . . . How does 40K sound?’
‘40K?’ I choke in shock. ‘Forty thousand pounds for six months of work?’
I think of my minimum-wage café salary and resist the urge to cry with happiness. With ￡40,000 coming in, I might actually make a start saving a bit of money.
‘Okay, fine, we can probably stretch to fifty. But that’s as high as we can go,’ she says.
I have to gulp back the tears.
‘I’ll take it,’ I say, snatching the offer before it disappears.
A meek applause fills the air as she and Paige both start clapping ecstatically. Her laptop flies back open – as does Paige’s, which she seems to have also been stowing away in that bag.
‘This is the kind of thing we’d want to roll out quickly to capitalise off your momentum.’ Analeise is typing ferociously.
‘Agreed,’ Paige says, typing too. ‘What’s your notice period for the café?’
‘Two weeks,’ I say.
My voice is soft and frail, bewildered by the reality of this.
‘Okay, and then packing and preparing . . . I’m thinking maybe a month’s time. The sixth of May? Does that give you enough time to get your affairs in order?’ Analeise asks.
I nod silently.
‘Great,’ she continues. ‘You get sorted on your side, then, and we’ll talk marketing and rollout from ours.’
Paige nods. ‘I’d love to take a look at the marketing plan. Please copy me in on that correspondence.’
Analeise nods curtly as the two of them continue to type and exchange further details and questions across the space to each other.
My head snaps from one to the other, like a game of tennis as the two of them set my next six months into motion.
The more they talk, the more the gnawing in my gut grows.
This cannot be real.
This isn’t my life.