He pointed to the cup next to my computer. He gave off easy-going vibes, but the man was clearly observing, storing up ammunition to use whenever it suited him. “You should sit down and enjoy it. We can hold off on the tour until then.”
“That’s okay. It goes cold every day.”
He stared at me. “You go to the trouble of making a cup of coffee every morning but never drink it?”
I shrugged. “It’s more ritual than anything at this point.”
“It’s a shame is what it is.” He took a seat. “Go ahead and drink it. I can ask you a few questions before we get started on the tour.”
I hesitated. It was a nice gesture—maybe?—and something in me wanted to refuse that type of thing from him because it felt loaded with danger. I couldn’t let myself get too comfortable with Grant Wilder. And I definitely couldn’t trust him.
But refusing felt a tad melodramatic, so I sat down and picked up the mug as he brought out his notebook.
I sipped at my coffee, waiting patiently and recalling all the things Brooke had coached me on yesterday—strategies to guide the conversation where I wanted it to go, ways to turn a difficult question into an opportunity to showcase Matchify’s strengths, and about five reminders to always bring things back to the people rather than the data.
That last one was a doozy for my number-philic brain.
“Your matches are only as good as the data users provide, right?” Grant said, not bothering to ease into things. “How do you ensure users are telling the truth about themselves?”
I forced myself to take a beat before responding. “With four of our five founders being women, you can imagine we have a unique perspective and interest in combatting some of the more common issues that crop up on dating apps. We use ID verificationandpartner with background check providers. Users are automatically opted in to allow only matches with those who have passed those checks. Our algorithm also has a number of built-in features that flag certain problematic behaviors. Obviously, users can report issues as well.”
Grant’s scribbling was intense, but I didn’t allow it to get to me. We worked hard to protect our users. It wasn’t flawless, but it was a Mary Poppins system: practically perfect in every way.
“People lie in person too,” I added. “There’s no way to compel 100% honesty, but we do everything within our power to protect our users from bad actors.”
Grant continued writing as he spoke. “Does that include protecting their data? Data privacy is a hot issue, and I can only imagine your algorithms require alotof private information.”
“We comply with all relevant privacy laws. We do not sell user data.”
“What happens to that information if a user deletes their account?”
“Their data is deleted from active servers and scheduled for permanent removal. As you can imagine, we fairly frequently have users who delete their account, only to change their mind a week later.” I took a sip of coffee and paid attention to the way the liquid warmed me instead of wondering what Grant was writing. No matter how much I looked at the scrawl, I wouldn’t be able to read it.
He looked up at me, his pencil finally at rest. “Do you think there are any ethical concerns with monetizing love?”
This man was clearly not here for cute user stories about finding love.
“Of course,” I replied, barely masking my incredulous tone. “But don’t love songs make money? Couples therapists? Wedding planners? Aren’t they also monetizing love?”
Our gazes held.
“Just because a business model includes potential ethical issues doesn’t mean the idea isn’t a noble one worth pursuing.”
His eyes searched my face, his pencil still quiet. “You mentioned coming up with the idea for the app after watching people make poor dating decisions. Do you include yourself in that group?”
I controlled my expression, my heart pattering more quickly. Brooke warned me against this. “Speaking of ethics…”
He narrowed his eyes curiously. “Do you think my question violates ethics?”
“You’re here to learn about Matchify, right? My personal life has no relevance.”
“I beg to differ. You find the fingerprints of CEOs all over their companies. People want a peek inside great minds.”
Smooth talker.
“I don’t intend to provide you with fuel to burn down Matchify, Mr. Wilder.” I suppressed the desire to cringe. That had come off a bit feistier than it should have.
Grant’s brows went up. “Just how much fuelisthere from your personal life? And it’s Grant.”
