Satisfaction guaranteed

“Hi I’m Jane and I work in a bank.”

Boring job. Next.

“Hi. My name’s Karen. I’m 28…”

Liar. Next.

“Hi. I’m …”

Ugly. Next.

Next.

Speed dating. Twenty women in two hours. You’d think there’d be someone that suited me. It’s not like I’m fussy - well maybe I am a bit but you’ve got to be selective. You put a lot of time into relationships so it makes sense to get the basics right to begin with.

It all started when my girlfriend Meg decided that she wasn’t good enough for me and moved out. Now I know that sounds a bit pompous but the fact is that I’ve got a bit of a reputation for wanting the best. I’ve got great job in the city with definite potential for advancement. But with a job like that comes certain requirements, certain standards that I have to live up to. My suits are all tailor-made, I get a new car ever year and I live in a nice clean area. In fact pretty much everything in my life was perfect - except for Meg.

It wasn’t always like that. Meg’s a great girl and for the first eighteen months of our relationship, while I was still working my way up the ranks she was perfect. It’s just that there were little things about her that made her not quite right once I got my promotion. Things like how she refused to wear the latest designer clothes, claiming that she was much more comfortable in jeans. And how she insisted on keeping her job even though my salary alone would have kept us quite comfortable. And she refused to get married. Now while a live-in girlfriend is fine for some, as a junior partner I was expected to be settled. Having Meg as merely a “plus one” on any invite made me stick out and to me perfection is all about not sticking out.

And then there was the dinner party. We’re the kind of firm that likes to socialise - in a very well heeled manner. Meg hated accompanying me to all those posh dinners but in fairness to her she always came when I asked her. Eventually it was our turn to play host and while I dreaded it Meg assured me that she’d have it all under control. And then she served up a roast dinner. I mean the full whack - Yorkshires, broccoli, spuds and a massive joint of beef. And the worst of it all was that she did it all herself so we couldn’t even blame the caterers. Everyone said it was delicious and so original but we all knew that that’s just not what you’re mean to serve at these kinds of things. That night we rowed and I told Meg that she just didn’t fit into my life anymore. By the time I got back from work the next day she was gone.

For a while the single scene was great with parties every night and eating what I wanted when I wanted. But it just didn’t fit in with my desired perfection and when I found myself still calling out Meg’s name when I returned home from work to an empty house I decided it was time to find someone else. And this time she really had to be perfect.

And so I subjected myself to the full horrors of the modern dating scene. Lonely hearts ads, blind dates and then the final humiliation of speed-dating. But no-one was perfect. Some were close but there was always something missing, something that just wasn’t quite right about them. They were the silvers compared to my desired gold.

Until I saw the advert.

At first I thought it was just another piece of junk mail but then the title caught my eye “Nightingales - for the man who wants the very best.” Upon closer inspection it turned out to be just another dating agency but their selection process did seem very in-depth and given my rather desperate state I decided to take them up on their promise of “Satisfaction Guaranteed”. Well it had to be better than another round of speed dating.

I’d almost forgotten about it by the time the doorbell rang three weeks and another five blind dates later. She stood on the doorstep - tall, thin, stylishly dressed and somehow looking surprisingly...metallic.

“Hi!” She said.

“Um…Hi.” It felt rude to say it but I couldn’t help myself. “You’re a robot.”

“We prefer to be called human representations if you don’t mind Sir. I am a product of Nightingales Incorporated - perfect in every way and designed especially for you.”

“For me?” A dating service that sent out robots?

“Yes Sir. I am now your partner, girlfriend and companion. And if at any time you find that I am not fulfilling my role to perfection, simply call this number and a Nightingales repair team will adjust me accordingly.”

She handed me a card reading “Nightingale repair team - perfection updates”

“Right. Great. Thanks. Um...do you have a name?”

“I’m sorry Sir but you did not specify a desired name on your application form. Perhaps you would like to name me now?”

“Right. Okay. Well what about…Suzy?”

“That sounds prefect Sir. Perhaps I might come in now and cook your dinner?”

Well what was I supposed to do? I’d paid for the service after all and if it didn’t work out I could always give that repair team a call. At the very least it would give me a highly original story to tell at the next work social.

“Yes. Okay, sure. That would be great um...Suzy.”

“My pleasure Sir. It is absolutely my pleasure.”

***

Lots of things were Suzy’s pleasure. Cooking, ironing, hovering, dusting, washing up. Even cleaning the bathroom. She was funny, intelligent and delighted in everything I asked her to do. And if perhaps there was a certain area missing in our life together (“I’m sorry Sir but you need a Mac 3 for that and I’m only a humble Mac 2. Shall I call the perfection update team for you?”) then it seemed rather inconsequential given the perfection in every other area. Especially when Suzy assured me that Nightingales would soon have a fully operational baby and toddler department.

So she stayed and we settled into some kind of routine, albeit a rather surreal one. Within two months of Suzy’s arrival I made senior partner and hosted my first dinner party since Meg left. Everyone had already met Suzy of course seeing as how she delighted in attending all of my work socials. There were a few odd looks at first but that was to be expected. Suzy was perfection and their wives could only ever be adequate in comparison. And on the night of our own soiree Suzy certainly did herself proud. She supervised an entire team of caterers and prepared the most delightful, fashionable and delicious meal imaginable. And she didn’t even seem fazed when one slightly deaf senior partner remarked that it was a fine feast but not a patch on that other girls’ roast and whatever happened to that nice lass?

Apart from that the evening was a total success and when everyone had left and Suzy had poured me generous whisky she asked:

“Sir, when do you wish to get married?”

The generous whisky erupted over the pristine carpet.

“What?” I spluttered “Married?”

“Yes Sir. I assume that it would achieve perfection for you.”

“Well, I suppose it would be nice but...do you love me Suzy?”

“I’m sorry Sir. I do not understand that word.”

“Love. It’s… care, affection, companionship. Trust.”

“I will always trust you Sir. I will never doubt what you say. And I will always be here Sir. I will be a perfect companion. Shall I get you another whisky Sir while you think about what kind of wedding dress you wish me to wear?”

***

The rest of the week passed in daze as I tried to come to terms with what Suzy had said. It was true that a wife would elevate my social status in the company and give me the settled and mature veneer that I had been looking for. But somehow whenever I thought about getting married, it was Meg in that wedding dress rather than Suzy.

I thought more about Meg that week than I had done since she left. I thought about how she used to scrunch her nose up when she laughed and that although Suzy always found anything I said supremely interesting, I couldn’t remember ever actually hearing her laugh. And somehow knowing that Suzy had quietly switched herself off in the downstairs cloakroom didn’t quite override the memory of Meg snuggled up next to me on a lazy Sunday morning in bed.

By the end of the week I was mess. I was barely talking to Suzy although she didn’t seem to have noticed and simply went about her cooking and cleaning as cheerful as ever. On Friday I took an unprecedented afternoon off work and went round to Meg’s sister’s house - the only forwarding address she’d left all those months ago.

“Hi Meg.”

“Tom? What are you doing here?”

“I just... I was passing and I… well actually not passing as such but... I just thought I’d pop over and …you know, say hi. See how you’re doing.”

She looked as if she was doing just fine. She’d put on a bit of weight since she’d left and it looked good on her. She’d always been on the skinny side and now she looked more…filled in somehow. More real. Or maybe that was just in comparison to a light weight robot. She’d cut her hair as well which again suited her. The jeans were still there though and I was glad she hadn’t changed completely.

“I’m doing ok. Moving on. Got myself a life”

Of course she would have. She wouldn’t just be waiting around for me to realise what an idiot I’d been. It was none of my business but I asked anyway.

“Anyone special in it at the moment?”

She paused and I held my breath.

“No.”

“Oh.”

“You?” She asked.

“Huh?”

“In your life? Anyone special?”

I thought of Suzy. I thought of Meg.

“No.”

“Oh.”

“So…um...” I had to do it. I had to be brave and take the chance. Now or never. Life changing moment etc. “Do you want to go for a coffee or something? I’ve taken the afternoon off.”

“Wow. Mr high flyer takes time off work? You have changed.”

“I’ve missed you”

It was risky. I didn’t want to come across as some needy ex who’d come crawling back for forgiveness. But then she scrunched her nose up as she laughed not unkindly at me and I realised that if crawling was necessary I’d happily oblige. Meg paused and I could see her weighing things up. I guess the balance must have fallen in my favour.

“I’ve missed you too. Yeah coffee would be great. You want to come in?”

***

The next day I gave Nightingales a ring and told them that I wished to take them up on their promise of “Satisfaction Guaranteed.”

“Not good enough for you Sir?” The operator asked. “We can always upgrade her for you if you like.”

“No that’s okay.” I told him. “I think I’ve found a different sort of perfection now. One that’s not quite perfect if you see what I mean.”

“Up to you Sir. I’ll send someone round right away.”

“Thank you. She won’t feel anything will she? When you turn her off or whatever?”

“Don’t worry Sir.” He told me. “She won’t feel a thing.”

Very true I thought as I hung up the phone and went back to enjoy Meg’s very own, very special homemade roast lunch.