Читать книгу Meet Me In Manhattan - Claudia Carroll - Страница 13

Just a few days after that, I was back in work at the first 8 a.m. pitching session of the week; a fun, intense two hours which basically involves the entire Afternoon Delight team sitting around News FM’s bright, airy boardroom, lobbing ideas back and forth at each other and hoping against hope that your story would somehow be the one that would turn into a grenade and catch fire.

It’s always one giant buzzing adrenaline rush and is by far my favourite part of the whole week. But then, as I’d learned from all my long years working there, there’s a sort of alchemy to a daytime phone-in show like ours. Often we’ll brainstorm an idea to death and leave the meeting convinced this would be a major talking point for the show, something that would really get the whole nation fired up, only for it to flop right on its ear and just fizzle away to nothing. Generally any topic that came under the banner headlines Anglo Irish shares, bank CEO’s inflated pensions, the Tea Party, or absolutely anything involving Angela Merkel.

And yet other times, one of us will chance on an improbably daft story buried deep in a tiny corner of page seventeen in the Chronicle; usually something gross, like how drinking your own wee can add on years to your life. So we often toss it into the show more as a gag item than anything else, and you can be bloody sure that’s the story that would have the phone lines hopping for the afternoon and eventually end up trending on Twitter. And if you ever manage to score a Twitter trend, it’s considered major brownie points for you round here, where your impact level on social media is seen as something of a barometer of success.

Anyway, that particular morning, there were seven of us all sitting round the giant oval table of News FM’s boardroom, surrounded by a picnic of Starbucks cups, muffins and half-eaten cheese bagels. A stunningly impressive boardroom by the way, with a panoramic view right over Grand Canal Quay, where a weak, wintry sun was making the water sparkle and dance in the early morning light.

‘So, anyone want to start the ball rolling?’ said Aggie, executive producer of the show and my direct boss, kicking off her high heels like she always does before settling down to business. She’s fabulous, Aggie; takes no nonsense and doesn’t sugarcoat things. One of those straight talking, ‘lean in’ women of the Sheryl Sandberg school, utterly unafraid to make tough calls and not in the least bothered about what other people think of her. For God’s sake, this is a woman who’s let her hair go completely white/grey. Voluntarily. Yet every one of us sitting round that table would think of her less as a boss and more of a friend, if that makes any sense. A boss-friend, if you will.

‘Oh you know what? I read a really juicy one over the weekend,’ Dermot piped up from right beside me. Dermot’s my best buddy round here; he’s about my own age, and like me was recently cut back from being a full-time researcher to just part-time. So he and I are in exactly the same boat and both of us continue to gamely pitch up to work on days we’re effectively not getting paid for. Except in Dermot’s case he really drives the point home by turning up on his freebie days in arse-clinging lycra and tight spandex gym tops. Subliminal message; ‘Just so you all know, I had to drag myself away from a treadmill for this.’

‘Go on,’ said Aggie, tapping a biro off the notepad in front of her.

‘Ok, so it’s about a new epidemic of false widow spiders that’s sweeping parts of the country,’ said Dermot, swinging back in his chair, arms folded, almost with a thought balloon coming out of his head saying, ‘Bloody well pay me for being here and I’ll fill you in some more.’

‘False widow spiders?’ said Aggie, to a few disgusted ‘eughhhs!’ from around the table.

‘Yeah, well apparently there was a women in Cork who had to be hospitalized because she was bitten by one,’ Dermot went on, undeterred. ‘So her doctors told her this was one of several cases that had presented over the last few days … and you know, the false widow uses humans as a host to hatch their eggs in, so it’s all pretty Alien when you think about it, really …’

‘Nah, forget it,’ said Aggie, cutting him off mid-sentence. ‘Sorry, but several cases does not an epidemic make.’

Another chorus of voices all clamoring to be heard while Sally, our red-haired, red-faced assistant producer almost banged the table for attention with her usual righteous ferocity.

‘Heart disease in women!’ she’s saying in her strident Belfast accent, but then Sally’s personal bugbear is any topic related to health, with particular reference to the general crappiness of the public health service down here in the Republic.

‘This new report shows that women are now thirty percent more likely to have a heart attack then men!’ she half growled, waving a piece of paper threateningly the way she always does, no matter what the story. We’re just all well used to her round here by now.

‘I’m sure you all read it over the weekend?’

‘Oh yeah, right. Glued to it, I was,’ said Dermot flatly. ‘Made for an unforgettable Saturday night in. My, my Sally, what an exciting life you must lead.’

‘And yet most women still remain more focused on their partner’s health than their own,’ Sally insisted, ignoring him, getting redder and hotter in the face and with a vein bulging out of her forehead that looks almost ready to replicate life. ‘This is the kind of story that a show like ours should be covering. Urgently!’

‘And we will, don’t you worry,’ said Aggie placatingly, but then she’d seen overheated performances like this countless times before and knew exactly how they should be handled. ‘It’s just that I’d like to kick-start the week with … let’s just say, something a little lighter, to hook in our listeners. So what else have we got, people?’

A chorus of ‘well, Christmas is just a few weeks away, what about …?’ and ‘Oh no, I’ve a gem right here … straight from the National Enquirer!’ followed, with everyone battling for the star prize of Aggie’s attention. But none of the pitches really hooked her, so when there was a moment of calm she took a glug out of the Starbucks mug in front of her and said ‘Holly? You’ve gone unusually quiet on me this morning. So come on, what have you brought to the table?’

Suddenly all eyes were focused my way and I was on.

I took a half a beat just to formulate my thoughts. And then decided feck it, might as well go for it. After all, this was the sole thought that had utterly consumed me over the past week so why not make the most of it?

‘Well …’ I began tentatively, addressing the room.

‘Shoot,’ said Aggie, pen poised on the pad in front of her.

‘Ok, so here’s what I was thinking,’ I said eyeballing her directly. ‘Given that the stigma which used to be attached to internet dating has now all but entirely worn off, how about we run a segment about …’

‘Oops! Can I just say something here?’ interrupted Maia, or as she’s known around here, Maia Mars Bars. Reason? Because as Dermot put it, ‘that one is just a bit too sweet to be wholesome’. One of those women who’s just a degree too over-charming to your face, but then you’ll hear it on good authority that she’s been bitching about you behind your back to other people on the team. She’s done it so often, and to so many of us, that we’re all well wise to her by now.

‘I’m so sorry to interrupt you mid-flow, Holly,’ she smiled angelically across the boardroom table at me, all shiny chestnut hair that I’d swear she adjusts entirely in accordance with how Kate Middleton is wearing hers this weather. ‘But we’ve done it already. Internet dating, that is. We ran with it only last October, in fact. I remember it distinctly because it was actually me who pitched it. So sorry, Holly.’

‘If you’d just let me finish?’ I smiled sweetly back at her. ‘I was about to say that this wouldn’t just be about hooking up with someone online. It’s more than that. Given that anyone can now access these dating sites and get chatting, messaging or even taking things to the next level …’

‘The next level?’ Dermot teased. ‘Ha! You should try Grindr. Where there is no “next level”.’

Dermot, like myself you see, would be a great advocate for online dating. Except in his case, the sites he’d be on would be more like Gaydar, Hotmen and the like. Which, according to him, are all about sex and instant hook-ups rather than long-term relationships, and all the better for it. I gave him a pretend-y slap on the wrist, but kept on going anyway, undeterred.

‘… Well what if you do meet The One, but he lives on the other side of the world? What then? OK, so you’ve got Skype and email and you can Snapchat all you like, but my question is … how easy or difficult is it to sustain a long-distance relationship with someone who you’ve only ever met virtually? After all, this kind of thing is changing our whole dating scene quite dramatically and I’m certain there must be plenty of couples out there who’ve been in that position and yet who’ve made it work, in spite of everything.’

‘Hmm,’ Aggie nodded thoughtfully. ‘It’s certainly a new take on the whole dating thing, alright. Long-distance online relationships; pitfalls and advantages of. Go on,’ she said, eyeballing me beadily. ‘Keep talking.’

‘We could get callers on to chat about how they’ve built up a relationship, even though they’re divided by continents,’ I went on, encouraged that she hadn’t shut me down mid-flow. Not yet, at least. ‘Couples who say they met their soulmate online and refused to be put off by the fact that they lived in different countries. After all, if you’re going to limit the people you date online to just anyone who lives geographically close to you, then let’s face it, you’re fishing in a pretty shallow pool, aren’t you?’

‘You know what? That’s actually not a bad pitch,’ lovely Maggie from accounts with the Rebekah Brooks wild mane of hair chimed in from across the table. ‘Then we could maybe get people to phone in with stories of long-distance relationships which began online, but which didn’t necessarily run their course. In other words, we ask the question it is a case of absence makes the heart grow fonder, or out of sight, out of mind?’

‘It’s interesting alright,’ said Aggie, thoughtfully nodding away. ‘Plus I suppose we could always segue off to quiz listeners about how well they ever really get to know someone online. After all, you’ve nothing else to go on bar what the other person chooses to tell you about themselves. And vice versa, of course.’

‘Are you kidding me?’ I blurted out incredulously. ‘I think you can get a fantastic, three-dimensional picture of someone really clearly online! And take it from me, with a bit of practice, you soon learn to filter out the time wasters from the genuine article.’

There was a divided chorus of ‘that’s complete rubbish!’ mixed along with a few more supportive, ‘yeah, I’d certainly go along with that,’ till Aggie raised her voice and suddenly there was total silence again.

‘Just out of curiosity,’ she asked, taking in the whole room. ‘How many of us round this table have actually met someone online who doesn’t live geographically close to you?’

All of us instantly shot our hands upwards. That is, all of us barring Maia who just sat there smugly and muttered something about Hugo, her long-term boyfriend who she met back in college. (And who Dermot reckoned was secretly a cross-dresser. This based solely on the fact that he once caught him stepping out of Miss Fantasia’s. Chances were Dermot just invented the whole thing, as he frequently does, but still at the time, it was grade A office gossip.)

‘Ok,’ said Aggie, taking all this in with the confidence of someone who’s been happily married with kids for the past fifteen years and therefore well and truly out of the dating pool. ‘So what are the rules these days? The dos and don’ts? Because now I’m thinking maybe we could segue from long-distance dating to the whole etiquette that lies behind online dating these days.’

‘Well, for starters, there’s your profile photo,’ said Jayne, our production assistant, shoving aside the dry rice cake she’s just been nibbling on, her usual mid-morning snack, while the rest of us were wolfing into bagels. But then, bless the poor girl, Jayne’s been on a diet for about for as long as I’ve been working here and has yet to lose as much as single pound. ‘Oh God, but it all comes back to the photo, particularly with someone who lives overseas, because until you get to Skyping, that’s all you have to go on. Trust me; it’s make or break after that.’

‘Go on,’ said Aggie.

‘Rule of thumb is, you can’t bombard a guy with a whole holiday album full of them, no matter how skinny and tanned you happen to look. Three is the absolute max. Take it from one who knows.’

‘Preferably taken by a portrait photographer, with low- level lighting and professional hair and make-up on stand-by,’ Dermot chipped in, then as we all turn to look suspiciously at him he hastily added, ‘well, not that I’ve done that myself, but I may just know one or two people who have.’

‘Remember though, a full body shot is essential,’ Jayne tossed back, then added, ‘Sorry guys, but I didn’t lose two stone and go to Weight Watchers twice a week only to end up with a fatty. So is it too much to ask for a man who knows how to eliminate carbs?’

‘And maybe we could talk about how multi-dating is kind of frowned on in the real world, whereas online it’s actually considered quite OK,’ Maggie chipped in hopefully. ‘I mean, we all do it, don’t we? After all, the way I see it, this is really just a numbers game. More guys you’re talking to and messaging, the more likely you are to get a score.’

Nods from a lot of heads round the table and I smiled, but was very careful not to look like I’m agreeing.

Yeah, I thought to myself, a tad smugly. Multi-dating may be all very well and good. Right up until someone incredibly special like Andy McCoy comes into your life, and then? Trust me. All the other messers will completely fade into insignificance.

‘Avoid giving a physical comment on the other person’s photo though, because I always think it comes across as being too clichéd,’ said Jayne. But then she hastily qualified it by adding, ‘for instance, saying something like “wow, you’re hot!” can very often backfire on you. You think you’re being complimentary, but it could be interpreted as meaning you’re just up for sex and not an actual full-blown relationship.’

‘… But be sure to comment on their written profile though, just to show that you’ve really had a decent look at it. Saying things like “I notice that …” and “I see that you’re interested in …” are always a good way to go,’ Maggie offered helpfully.

‘… Oh yeah, and you have to completely blank out dating rules in the real world. Because they just don’t apply online. For starters, if he messages you, don’t play hard to get and wait two days to get back to him because by then, trust me, he’ll have gone on to meet at least ten other people. Far, far better just to be direct and respond immediately. Remember, you’ve got a lot of competition out there,’ added Jayne.

‘… But, having said that, if you’ve messaged someone twice and there’s still no response, then it’s definitely time to delete and move on …’

‘… I find it’s a good idea to take it offline as soon as you can. Because if there’s zero chemistry over the phone, then you can be certain there’ll be zero chemistry when you first meet.’

So now it’s like the floodgates have opened and everyone was battling it out for airtime, as the rules and advice came in thick and fast.

‘Oh God! Then the first meeting. Absolutely critical. Goes without saying that dinner is way too long, especially if he turns out to be nothing at all like how he described himself …’

‘Agreed!’ Lunch is far better I find, preferably on a workday, so you always have the excuse of having to skedaddle back to the office. Even if it’s not necessarily true. In fact, there’s this great dating site called ‘It’sJustLunch’ and I really think that if we’re going to segue from long- distance online dating to all these websites in general, it might be worth hooking them into the slot too …’.

‘… Lunch? Are you joking? A whole hour out of my day? For some random stranger? No, a coffee is your best bet, trust me. Preferably in a Starbucks, where there’s plenty of people surrounding you, just in case he turns out to be a complete weirdo or a whacko …’

‘But always let a friend know exactly where you are, and who you’re with beforehand. Then if everything turns out well, you can just slip off to the loo and text them anyway, just to let them know your body isn’t about to be dumped in the canal …’

‘… Ermm … if we could just move away from weirdos, whackos and getting dumped in the canal for a moment,’ I said to the room, thinking aloud more than anything else really. ‘Maybe then we could focus on if/when you get to that lovely stage of wanting to date each other exclusively. Because, if you ask me, at that point the etiquette is that you both take down your profiles and quit the site completely.’

‘Although if you do that and he doesn’t, then you’d better run a mile,’ groaned Jayne, rolling her eyes, like she was speaking from bitter experience. ‘And of course it goes without saying that if things don’t work out for you, then it’s an absolute no-no to dump him online or via email. I did that one time and the bastard forwarded my email round to all his friends. It was bloody mortifying.’

‘Although, I guess even if things don’t work out for you,’ said Maia, who’d been noticeably quiet throughout all this, ‘then bear in mind that this guy might end up being a useful business contact for you. Not that I’d know or anything,’ she added with a too-bright smile. ‘Hugo and I are always saying how lucky we are to be out of the whole dating piranha pond. We don’t know how you all do it, really.’

‘Because no-strings sex is always so wonderful,’ Dermot grinned cheekily back at her to more than a few suppressed smiles.

‘OK, OK,’ said Aggie, taking control again. ‘Looks like we’ve really tapped into something here. Holly, can you get working on it quick as you can? We’ll open with long-distance dating as our lead item and roll it out to include online dating tips from there. Now come on people, what else have you got for me?’

*

Come lunchtime, long after the meeting had broken, I was in our tiny staff canteen – which is effectively more of a broom cupboard really – helping myself to a watery instant coffee and a mouthful of ham and Swiss panini. Next thing Dermot sidled up beside me, all tight lycra gym gear and too-clingy Spandex, arms folded and with more than a suspicious glint in his eyes, like he was onto me.

‘Well Missy,’ he said, cornering me so I can’t make a quick escape. ‘All that impassioned stuff back there, about just how magical long-distance relationships can be?’

‘Hmm?’ I said, delighted to have the excuse of a full mouth so I couldn’t answer him properly.

‘Spoken right from the heart, I noticed. So is there anything you want to tell your Uncle Dermot? Come on then. It’s not like I don’t tell you everything.’

That wasn’t any kind of a compliment by the way, Dermot tells everyone absolutely everything, not just me. So I mumbled something about having to get back to my desk, but he just cut me off and physically blocked my path.

‘Come on, Holly, don’t hold out grade A gossip on me. You’ve spent the past year moaning that the only guys you seem to meet online are either married gits or else barefaced liars who describe themselves as looking like Bradley Cooper, but who turn out to be more like Shane McGowan in real life. The teeth included. Then you burst in here all glowing and full of the joys – on a bleeding Monday morning – and start waxing lyrical about love blossoming online?’

‘Sorry Dermot, really gotta get back to my desk …’

But he was standing right in front of me, way too big and protein-fed for me to possibly inch my way past.

‘Just off the top of my head … did you by any chance meet someone and you’re not telling me?’ he asked, eyebrows shooting upwards. ‘Do you have some secret little Christmas cracker on the go for yourself?’

‘Umm … possibly.’

‘Possibly means yes you do. Knew it! Knew you were acting weirder than normal this morning. And you never answered my calls yesterday to see if you fancied going to a movie; ergo, I’m guessing you spent most of your weekend stuck in front of a computer screen.’

I was slightly too mortified to admit the truth, but it’s like Dermot just comes with a kind of honing instinct for these things. Because, of course, he was one hundred percent right. For almost two full weeks now, it was just me and Captain Andy, messaging each other back and forth, day and night, at all hours of the day and night, and from airports at all four corners of the globe, just to ask about my day and to tell me all about his.

And it was bloody amazing and I really did believe this one might just have legs. But of course rule one was do not jinx it by telling everyone all about it, at least not until we’d actually met.

‘Let’s just say, watch this space,’ I told Dermot, with what I hoped was an enigmatic smile.

‘Dirty bitch,’ he grinned and I poked him back playfully.

‘Thanks for not quizzing me any more,’ I said gratefully, ‘for the moment at least. But don’t worry, if this does turn into anything significant, you’ll be the very first to know. It’s a long-distance thing, so there’s a lot for us to navigate our way around.’

He burst into a big, wide grin, then stepped aside from blocking the doorway, so I could squeeze my way past him.

‘Oh honey, long-distance online is the absolute best! There’s all the sexual build-up and anticipation before you get to meet and then when you do, it’s all the more wonderful because you know you’re never going to bump into each other in the vegetable aisle at Tesco’s. Plus, if you ever fancy cheating with someone closer to home, then how will he ever find out? You’re in a win-win, baby!’