Saturday, February 14, 2015

Valentine’s Day.

Eight years ago. I’m in a newspaper office. I do advertising-type stuff.

A client rings. She represents a ‘speed-dating’ company and advertise their events in the publication I work for.

Client: So yeah hi and ok, so, need some advertising for the next one and…well. You’re single, yeah?

Me: What? I mean…what?

Client: You just sound single. Always have. So the thing is...we’ve got this event on Valentine’s but we’re a bit short of boys. You know?

Me: Oh. Ah. Ok.

Client: So obviously we’re going to advertise as ever but erm… We could do with someone to make-up the numbers. Gentleman-wise. You understand?

Me: Ah. Erm…

Client: So you’re obviously alone…


Client: Oh GOD sorry. Have I got it wrong?


Me: Anyway. What are you saying?

Client: Well. You always come across quite well so wondering if you’d come. No charge, we’d pay for everything. We just need another body. Yeah?

I consider the fact that I have been recently abandoned by the mother of my children and now live alone and shall probably be spending the evening in question staring at the wall and wondering at what point I first started ruining everything. Or I could do this silly thing.

Me: Yeah. Ok.

Client: Cool. Any discount on your absurd advertising rates?

Me: I’m helping you out here. What do you think?

Three days later.

Client: Bloody hell! You actually did alright! You got some ‘matches’ and that!

Me: What’s that supposed to mean?

Client: Oh. Nothing. And the ladies running the event were so pleased you arrived so early and helped them set-up. Really appreciated the help.

Me: Yeah well. I hate being late for things.

Client: Totally. Totally. So, shame nothing went further for you...according to our records. Anyway. Another event coming-up in a couple of weeks. What can you do with your absurd advertising rates?

Me: Nothing.

Happy Valentine’s everyone.
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