Lunar Love

“It’s a great time to launch,” I acknowledge reluctantly. “So, what’s everyone working on?” I step closer to the engineers’ desks, hoping to see something that might provide some clues. There’s just a bunch of code against dark screens.

“We’re gearing up to ship a big feature for the beta. If users like it, we’ll improve upon it for the app’s official launch,” Bennett shares.

“Ooh, what is it?” I ask, making sure to sound overeager.

“I can’t share the details just yet, but I’m hoping you’ll like it. Though we did recently implement an algorithm that connects users based on the good feedback other users give after dates.” Bennett sounds excited. “If a user is looking for a particular trait, let’s say good manners as an example, and another user writes that their date had good manners in the feedback, we can use that information to better connect them if the first match doesn’t work out.”

I nod, soaking up every last word. Inside, I shrink. How can we possibly keep up with an algorithm? We are the algorithm. I am the algorithm.

Suddenly, Elmer sits up in his seat and shouts, “Yes!” His red glasses sitting on top of his head fall in front of his forehead.

“What’ve we got?” Bennett asks, walking over to Elmer’s desk. I edge closer so I can see his screen. On his monitors are colorful graphs moving in a mostly upward direction, high numbers, and well-portioned pie charts.

“We just hit match three thousand!” Elmer says, grinning.

“That number will be a lot higher when we launch nationwide. How can we get that number even higher before the next press release?” Bennett asks as he hurriedly reviews the data analytics charts on Elmer’s screen.

If we sacrificed quality and could work as fast as an algorithm, we’d have that many matches, too. It’s quality over quantity, I repeat to myself.

Bennett pumps his fist in the air. “And sixty users deleted their accounts with feedback saying they matched and no longer need the service.”

Oof. I bet he won’t be happy about that. I can’t imagine quitting clients fits into his future investors’ business plan. “That fast?” I mumble. I don’t try to contain my surprised look.

Bennett somehow hears me. “You look shocked by that number, but quitting clients is a good thing usually. It means they’ve successfully matched. We’ll be able to use this data for the pitch. We want these metrics for our marketing to attract more users.”

I can practically see the money signs in his eyes.

“When you lose people—users, sorry—how much do you anticipate that affecting your bottom line?” I ask, cringing at my own use of corporate-speak. “Do you try to win them back?”

Bennett looks at me curiously. He leans back and crosses his arms.

“We have hundreds of people signing up to be in the beta every day. It’s hard to keep track of them individually. And when we launch, we anticipate there being way more users. Eighty-seven percent of surveyed beta users have expressed interest in upgrading to the paid service to get more of our benefits once we have it ready,” he explains. “We’re doing well, but of course there’s always room for improvement.”

“I see,” I say, smiling wanly. Quality over quantity. Quality over quantity. “Sounds like everything’s working out.”

“It’s…working. Either way, we try to celebrate milestones both big and small. Yesterday we celebrated putting a new verification system into effect to validate animal signs. We had some data indicating that users weren’t being truthful about who they were on the site. Now we confirm birthdays to prevent any funny business. You know what I mean?”

“Can’t trust anyone,” I say, looking him straight in the eye. They have to verify because they never meet people face-to-face and get to know them. “Do you think asking for proof of identity will scare people away?”

“If it does, good,” he says. “Ultimately, we want our users to choose us because they want to find love in an honest and safe way, even if this limits sign-ups or leads to drop-offs. It might sound obvious, but these are the lessons we’re learning as we go.”

“Super,” I say. “That’s just super.”

“We want users to be into the Chinese zodiac, but not too into it,” Elmer chimes in from across the room. “If users try to get all introspective about which of the four zodiac elements they are, then they’ll probably be disappointed.”

“Five,” I murmur.

“What?” Elmer asks. He pushes his glasses back on top of his head.

“Never mind,” I say. It’s not worth the energy.

Instead, Bennett speaks up. “There are actually five elements. Metal, Water, Wood, Fire, and Earth.”

“Exactly,” I say. I can’t tell if I feel good that he knows more than I thought about the zodiac, or worse.

“Uh, yeah. Right,” Elmer says, his face matching the color of his glasses.

Delight sparkles in Bennett’s eyes. “You’re learning! Looks like the zodiac bug is contagious! The point is, we want users to trust us. We’re trying to make connections, after all,” he says, looking at me expectantly.

“Oh, man. You’ve gotta see this,” Elmer says, his tone more serious than before. He starts reading off his screen. “ZodiaCupid is a gimmicky take on a centuries-old horoscope system…”

Bennett and I take a few steps back over to Elmer’s desk and crouch to read along with him. I feel my face burning as I scan down the list. It’s my WhizDash article. But it’s the version I deleted. How is that possible? That draft was never meant to be seen by other human eyes. When Alisha sent the email, it was obviously my Vent Draft—not the Lunar Love article—attached.

Alisha’s contact at WhizDash didn’t waste any time getting this article up. Riding the wave of ZodiaCupid press, probably. Tunnel vision takes over as I read my words written in a moment of passion.





Ten Ways ZodiaCupid Will Destroy Your Love Life



ZodiaCupid is a gimmicky take on a centuries-old horoscope system that is believed to be the oldest in the world. The only thing the app gets right about the Chinese zodiac are the twelve animal signs. Other than that, it’s a generic brushstroke analysis of its users.

What stops users from manipulating the system and pretending to be different signs? Careful users. That Rabbit you’re flirting with might actually be a Rat.

If you think winking is bad, try being hissed at. Are you a Snake or a human? People don’t like to be catcalled at, so why would they want to be barked at?

Don’t count on users to know too much about the Chinese zodiac. If you’re a true believer, this is not the right platform for you.

Users are matched based on the words in their profile more than the actual traits of their animal signs. What’s new?

Lauren Kung Jessen's books