Page 32 of A Lot to Unpack
NewGirl
I’m hoping I’ll get to meet everyone soon. Paige is keeping me busy.
Maybe I shouldn’t have done that but I’m bored, sitting alone in a restaurant, waiting for my job which, it turns out, is not really a job. I suppose the fact that it seems so silly is the reason why I’m happy to bend the rules, just a little.
MrLoveByte
Ahh, you must be beautiful then.
NewGirl
What makes you say that?
MrLoveByte
Because she hides the beautiful women away – she’s got a real bee in her bonnet about no one in the office having relationships (except her). I thought Matcher was supposed to be about finding love?
Oh, well, that’s interesting. And an insight into Paige that I wasn’t expecting. Ludicrous, though, to suggest Matcher is a place for finding love. Give me a break.
NewGirl
I thought Matcher was for finding hook-ups?
MrLoveByte
I’m not opposed to that either.
NewGirl
It’s my birthday today!
MrLoveByte
Oh, and I haven’t even got you a present.
NewGirl
You don’t know my name – how could you have known my birthday?
MrLoveByte
That’s a good point. I’m sure I can think of something to give you when I see you…
I can’t help but smile at my phone. He’s cheeky.
I wonder if he’s right, about Paige, or if he’s just slagging off the boss – something I could see myself doing, if I had someone here to talk to, because as much as I’m enjoying being here in Sydney, the task she has finally set me (beyond just, y’know, swiping on her dating app) is not really a task at all.
She wants me to sit in on a meeting. Sort of. Actually, no, not at all – she wants me to sit next to a meeting. Yep, there’s a meeting here, tonight, in the hotel restaurant, and Paige has booked me a seat at a table where I can observe the meeting from a distance (she’s told me what table they’ll be at) but that I have only to watch and make notes. Under no circumstances am I to interact with anyone, because apparently I’ll ‘disrupt the flow’ of the meeting. I shouldn’t even let them know I’m there, she said. So I just have to sit here, waiting for them to arrive, and then… what? Watch them eat dinner? Again, I can’t complain, because it’s an easy job and they’re paying me for it but, I don’t know, as far as job satisfaction does, I don’t really feel like I have any – I don’t really feel like I have a job.
I’m making a real meal of it (no pun intended), mostly because I’m bored. I’ve got my notebook and a pen, ready to jot down important notes like ‘everyone ordered the steak’ or ‘one person sneezed’. Still, it’s a nice restaurant, with a cosy vibe, decorative wooden beams, low-key romantic lighting. If I were to make one note, it would be that this isn’t an ideal setting for a meeting. Next time they should choose somewhere with more light – and no pianist.
It’s nice though, and the views out over Sydney Harbour are stunning. I’m making the most of looking out of the window while I can, before my role switches to staring across the room at a table, watching people like a creep.
I’m also making the most of the fact that this is a restaurant, and I don’t have to pay for anything, and really, ordering food is the only cover I have, so I guess I’ll just have to keep it coming –well, I wouldn’t want to look out of place. I’m sampling the local seafood, and drinking cocktails, and I haven’t even looked at the dessert menu yet, but I reckon I could order those back to back all night, if I needed to. Let it never be said I’m not dedicated to my job. Plus, you know, it is my birthday, and I am spending it alone. I may as well keep myself company with food – and it means the waitstaff come over more. I’m just trying to forge some company.
Oh, could this be them? Two people are being shown to the table – the one I’m supposed to be watching. I can see a woman – a beautiful Bondi blonde. Like, I’m blonde, but my colour comes out of a series of bottles in a North London hairdressers. This woman is a real blonde, the kind of colour that only comes from winning a genetic lottery and living her life in the sun, swimming in the sea, running on the beach, and probably drinking smoothies – ones with green stuff in.
She’s wearing an evening dress, not really the kind you would wear to a meeting, but I suppose it is evening, and we are in a restaurant. I don’t know if she’s the client or the person from Matcher or what, until I see who is pulling out her chair for her – a man,theman, the one I got stuck in the lift with. So I would imagine he’s the reason I’m here, the one I’m on hand to assist, if he needs me, which so far he hasn’t.
