ShelfLife

by Barrie Seppings

‘Started that way, but then the Swedes went all Pac-man, gobbled up a bundle of specialist travel sites. Yours truly had to figure out how to migrate each one of them onto the existing platform in literally a week.’

  ‘Which is why they pay you the medium-sized bucks, no doubt.’

  ‘Hardly,’ Shanti snorted. ‘I guess the money isn’t too bad, and I rent a place from my uncle, so it’s affordable, but I was really pushing for some equity.’

  ‘And did you get some?’

  ‘Nope. They sent me here to Southby as kind of a consolation prize. I wasn’t going to turn that down, was I?’ Shanti smiled and finished her drink. ‘What about you, still working for your parents?’

  ‘Ha,’ Trent grimaced. ‘Well, yes, but it sounds much better the way I say it.’

  ‘Which is how?’

  ‘I’m a VP of Strategy and Biz Dev for a med tech company based in New York,’ Trent announced, shooting his shirtsleeves out from the ends of his jacket and sitting a little more upright.

  Shanti laughed. ‘And how has that line been working for you this week?’

  ‘Truthfully, I think I’m ready to move on to the next phase of my career.’ Trent smiled and sat back. ‘And when I do, I want you to come and work for me.’

  ‘Oh dear, I’m going to need another drink before I hear this one,’ Shanti raised an eyebrow and the bartender sailed over. ‘I’ll have a vodka lime and my friend here, if I remember correctly, will have a scotch rocks.’

  Trent nodded.

  ‘Same drink, same schtick. Reminds me of London. Every week in you’d swing by my desk and go: “Shanti! Shanti! I’ve got a killer idea for an app. Buy me a drink and I’ll tell you about it.” Remember?’

  ‘You have to admit, some of those ideas were borderline genius,’ said Trent.

  ‘What? Like the dating app for dogs?’

  ‘You laugh, but I saw some guys pitch basically the same idea on a VC stage here this week.’

  ‘Always were a man ahead of your time, Trent.’

  ‘You mock, but this time I’ve got something that’s truly life-changing,’ Trent took a sip and stared at Shanti. Shanti returned the stare with a side order of sly smile.

  ‘Dammit Shanti, aren’t you going to ask me about my idea?’

  ‘Tell me about your idea, Trent,’ Shanti smirked.

  ‘Forget it. You’re not going to take it seriously.’

  ‘Oh, come on Trent, look around,’ Shanti waved at the lounge full of conference goers talking at each other at maximum volume, lanyards swaying. ‘These big tech conferences are like an evangelical church. The preacher gets up on stage to deliver an uplifting keynote, saying all you have to do is believe in yourself, believe in your idea, hire an IP lawyer, let the angels find you and take you up to IPO heaven.’ She had risen from her seat, hands clenched, arms outstretched, eyes shut.

  ‘That’s pretty good,’ Trent laughed. ‘The bit about angels especially. But listen, this idea is important to me. I had an experience – ’

  ‘Religious? Out of body?’ Shanti grinned as she regained her perch on the barstool.

  ‘Way better,’ Trent paused for effect. ‘I became someone else.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘A couple of weeks ago, I accidentally became a surgeon. It didn’t last long, but it was absolutely amazing,’ he rose from his seat and placed his palms together under his chin. ‘I’ve been trying to figure out a way to make it happen again and yesterday, while I was sitting in one of these conference sessions, it came to me.’

  ‘You’re going back to med school?’

  ‘God no. Who has time for that? What I’m talking about is harnessing the power of the shared economy, removing friction from the transaction and satisfying un-met demand. I’ve got an idea that will change people’s lives.’

  ‘You sound like one of these wannabe startup douches,’ she took a sip. ‘Except maybe worse.’

  ‘Okay, let me run a demonstration for you,’ Trent looked around the crowded bar. ‘Pick someone.’

  ‘Like who?’ Shanti furrowed her brow.

  ‘Someone old. Someone blue. Someone in a fedora. Doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Someone cute?’

  ‘As you wish. Say you’re doing a short survey about a new product. Offer them a free drink for five minutes of their time,’ he motioned for her to leave. ‘Quick, my flight is in a couple of hours. Go find someone. Bring them here. I’ll ask a bunch of questions. You’ll see the idea and it will blow your mind. Promise.’

  ‘Oh, Trent, you really haven’t changed,’ Shanti slid off her barstool, straightened her skirt and made her way into the crowd, scanning faces as she moved. She had missed being around people like Trent. People with the energy and confidence to treat life as one big game. No wonder he was good at sales. Trent had been one of the best in the highly competitive team in the London office when they worked together, despite his heart never really appearing to be in it. A lot of people sniped that Trent had the safety net of his parents’ wealth to fall back on, but Shanti couldn’t help but wonder what he might achieve if he really had to fight for it. Just because you’re good at doing something doesn’t mean that’s the thing you should be doing he had often counselled in the dying days of London as she searched frantically for another coding job, hoping to avoid a forced return home to Munich. Like most people, Trent underperformed when it came taking his own advice.

  She rounded a column to find a group of women in pantsuits and pearls, cackling over bellinis and twirling their lanyards. Nope. Trent would just start flirting with them and she’d never get to hear about his idea. A little deeper into the crowd she spotted a man staring into his phone, with broad shoulders and v-shaped swimmer’s torso, something she admired greatly in men, far less so in women. He stood a little taller than she did and his thinning hair had been clipped to about the same length as his stubble. Luckily, he had a fairly regular-shaped head. Not all men were so blessed. Shanti found it an altogether appealing package, although she wanted to deduct a few points for the checked shirt draped over a faded graphic t-shirt (a print she was certain she’d seen on Threadless the previous summer), paired with lightly distressed jeans and an undoubtedly limited edition pair of sneakers. Honestly, it was like a global uniform for pixel pushers. This would be easy, she thought to herself.

  ‘Enjoying the conference?’ Shanti breezed into his personal space.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said without glancing up from his phone. ‘But I’m trying to not take any more flyers. It’s all just landfill.’

  Shanti took a half step backwards, but quickly regrouped for a more targeted approach.

  ‘Oh, I’m so sorry. I was actually looking for some design expertise,’ she waited a moment while the lure flashed in the water. ‘We have a new product in beta and we’re running some one-on-one focus groups with leaders from the design industry.’

  ‘One-on-one focus groups?’ he looked up from his phone with a raised eyebrow. The eyebrow was joined by its twin as he took in Shanti’s face. ‘I mean, if that’s what you’re doing, that’s fine, I guess. What’s the product?’

  ‘It’s in early design stage,’ she pushed her hair back and patted the bob into place. ‘Just a few minutes of your time. I’d love to borrow your expertise, if you don’t mind?’

  Shanti broke out a smile and let her gaze drift downwards.

  ‘Sure. Why not? Happy to help,’ he returned the smile and pocketed his phone.

  ‘Fantastic. I’m Shanti,’ she extended her hand. ‘Come and meet my colleague.

  He’ll take you through the questions.’

  ‘Okay,’ his smile slipped a little.

  They shook hands slowly and he paused a moment to take her in as she turned to weave through the crowd.

  ‘I didn’t catch your name,’ she called over her shoulder as she led the way back to the bar.

  ‘Gavin. Is this your first Southby?’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘How did you find it?’<
br />
  ‘Way bigger than I expected, but the energy of the place just keeps you going, right?’

  ‘True. But lots of people seem like they’re just drinking the kool-aid. I suppose some of them are genuine, right?’

  ‘A little of column A, a little of column B.’ Shanti came to a halt by the bar where Trent was in animated conversation with one of the pearl and pantsuits crew. She didn’t wait for a break in the conversation.

  ‘This is my colleague, Trent Carlisle. He’ll be running the survey. Trent, this Gavin.’

  Trent wavered for a moment before excusing himself. He stood and offered a hand.

  ‘I want to thank you for helping us out, Gavin. Should take five, ten minutes tops. Take a seat. What are you drinking?’

  ‘I wasn’t, but I’ll take a rum and coke. What are you developing?’ Gavin hopped up on to a barstool. ‘Your lovely colleague here’s a little short on detail.’

  ‘Still in early development.’ Trent waved the bartender over. ‘Before we get started, we just need a bit of background on you first. If that’s okay?’

  ‘Sure,’ Gavin shrugged. ‘I’m an open book.’

  ‘Fantastic. Here’s the first question.’ Trent stared into Gavin’s eyes, allowing the drama to flow into the silence. ‘Are you happy?’

  ‘Ah-ha, yeah, I guess,’ Gavin stifled a laugh. He glanced toward Shanti, as if seeking explanation.

  ‘Now that this conference is almost over, we all have to go home, back to our regular lives,’ Trent waved grandly around the bar. ‘But what if you could go anywhere and be anyone?’

  Gavin blinked. Then again.

  ‘Where would you go? What would you do? Who would you be?’ Trent leaned in even closer.

  ‘Can I think about that for a moment?’ Gavin turned fully to Shanti and leant towards her, placed a hand by the side of his face to create a small moment of privacy. ‘Is this how you normally do your product surveys?’ he asked in a loud whisper.

  ‘Actually, yes,’ she laughed and pulled back, ‘Our methods may seem unconventional, but it’s all part of the process.’

  ‘Okay.’ Gavin turned back to Trent. ‘I’d probably go and be Marty.’

  ‘Marty? Who’s Marty?’ asked Trent.

  ‘Mate of mine. Deckhand on a yacht.’

  ‘Oooh, nice! Where’s the yacht?’

  ‘In the Mentawis.’

  Trent stared back, raising his eyebrows to ask for clarification.

  ‘Off the coast of Sumatra.’

  More eyebrows.

  ‘Indonesia. It’s a surf boat. He’s a deckhand and a surf guide. Takes groups of surfers around tropical islands and shows them perfect waves.’

  ‘That. Is. Fantastic!’ Trent leapt to his feet and put his hand up for a high five. Gavin sat, confused for a moment, but felt compelled to return the palm slap. Shanti smiled, watching Trent’s performance as the drinks arrived.

  ‘I don’t get it. Why does he think that’s fantastic?’ asked Gavin, looking to Shanti again.

  ‘Okay. Now what is it that you do, Gavin?’ Trent continued.

  ‘I’m a designer with an ad agency in Melbourne. The one in Australia,’ answered Gavin.

  ‘Melbourne’s cool. I love Melbourne. Keep it flowing, man.’ Trent rolled his hand in encouragement. ‘Where do you live?’

  ‘Umm, well I’m in a share house right now, with three friends.’

  ‘Girlfriend?’

  ‘No, they’re all just friends, flatmates, the usual,’ Gavin checked Shanti’s reaction, but she gave none.

  ‘I meant: do you have a girlfriend?’ Trent clarified.

  ‘Not, um, currently,’ he checked again, and Shanti checked him checking.

  ‘OK, nice and simple,’ Trent clapped his hands. ‘So here we have a cool design guy, sharing a house with cool friends in one of the world’s least-visited cool cities. I love you, Gav, and I love your surfing mate. I have one more question: have you ever wanted to trade places with Marty?’

  ‘All the freaking time!’ said Gavin, ‘Do you know how cold it gets in Melbourne in winter?’

  ‘Try Munich,’ challenged Shanti.

  ‘Don’t worry my dear, we’ll get to you in a moment.’ Trent placed a hand on her shoulder but kept his gaze locked on Gavin. ‘Do you think Marty would want to trade places with you?’

  ‘Probably.’ Gavin sat back. ‘He crashes on our couch sometimes and hangs with us when he’s on a break. He comes into my work, we go crate digging, see bands, watch girls walk past. So, yeah, I guess.’

  ‘You see that, Shanti? That’s the demonstration,’ said Trent clapping his hands together again. ‘We all want to trade places sometimes. Some of us do it already. It’s actually an unspoken social norm, just waiting to be codified and scaled.’ Trent was up and talking with his hands.

  ‘And monetised,’ said Gavin.

  ‘Yes, exactly. My god, Gavin, you’re right there, you’ve got it already,’ Trent placed a hand on his shoulder.

  ‘Is that your product?’ Shanti crossed her arms and frowned. ‘A job swap platform?’

  ‘I think he’s talking about swapping lives,’ said Gavin. ‘Aren’t you, Trent?’

  ‘Neither of you is exactly right, but Gavin is less wrong.’ Trent placed his finger in the air as he took a drink. ‘I am talking about changing lives, but there’s no money in swap platforms. This is about product. Inventory. Rental revenue.’

  ‘Holy shit, Trent, do you want people to rent out their lives? To other people? For money?’ asked Shanti.

  ‘You got it in one,’ Trent winked at her. ‘Welcome aboard.’

  ‘That’s pretty crazy,’ Gavin laughed and took a sip. ‘I mean, cool idea, but functionally it would never work.’

  ‘Where do you see the issue?’ asked Trent.

  ‘I’m not sure how you’d be able to structure the search algorithm to deliver meaningful results against such fuzzy criteria,’ Gavin said.

  ‘You structure algorithms for a living, do you?’ Shanti crossed her arms.

  ‘I mean, well, I don’t create the algorithms, if that’s specifically what you’re asking,’ Gavin rubbed the stubble on his scalp.

  ‘That was what I was specifically asking, yes,’ Shanti smirked.

  ‘Easy tiger. Shanti here is something of a legend in German e-commerce and trading platforms, I’ll have you know,’ said Trent, placing an arm around her shoulder. ‘One of the smartest coders I know.’

  ‘Oh, shut up. You don’t know anything about code either. But I appreciate the compliment,’ she brushed Trent’s arm away. ‘What sort of design do you do back in Melbourne?’

  ‘Front end. User experience. Experimental interfaces,’ he took a drink and shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘You design websites?’ asked Shanti.

  ‘Hey look, if that’s the end of the survey then thank you for the drink and good luck with everything.’ Gavin pushed himself off his barstool.

  ‘Oh, come on, buddy,’ Trent protested.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Shanti placed a hand on his bicep and gave it a squeeze. ‘I didn’t mean that. It was rude and I shouldn’t have said it.’

  ‘Did I tell you that Shanti can be a bit of a bitch, sometimes?’ Trent offered. ‘Jesus, Trent, I’m trying to apologise, here,’ said Shanti, still holding Gavin’s arm. The shape of it pleased her. ‘He’s right, I can be. But mostly I’m not. Back me up here, Trent.’

  ‘I’d say 49 per cent bitch, weighted average.’

  Gavin laughed, breaking the tension. ‘You guys are kinda odd, you know that? Cool, but odd.’

  ‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ Shanti smiled and patted his arm once more. ‘Did you meet many other cool, odd people here this week?’

  ‘Y’know, I came here expecting the whole town to be full of wankers, but I got that wrong.’

  ‘You sound disappointed,’ said Trent, pulling out his phone and waving it. ‘Sorry, I just need to book a cab to the airport.’

  ‘I kind of
am disappointed, but mainly in myself. A lot of the people here are talking about inventing stuff, doing deals, launching companies, changing the world. Kind of like you guys. But then I think about what I’ll be doing when I get home – pushing pixels around a screen, doing whatever the client tells me. I just feel…’

  ‘So what do you want to do instead?’ Trent glanced up from his phone. ‘Go and be your friend Marty on the surf boat?’

  ‘I wanted to become a war photographer,’ said Gavin.

  ‘Serious?’ Shanti leaned in closer.

  ‘Totally serious. I applied for a course in Spain. Super intense, they only take eight students a year. But it turns out you have to already be a legit news photographer. So they didn’t let me in.’

  ‘This world can be so cruel to amateurs. Hey, bingo, I have a ride,’ Trent pocketed his phone and spread his arms. ‘Shanti, I hate to love you and leave you like this, but my plane is leaving. We’ve got a lot more to talk about, you realise.’

  ‘You’ve always got more to talk about,’ Shanti stood on the rung of her barstool to give Trent a hug, but still only came up to his chest. ‘So good to see you again. I mean that.’

  ‘I know you do,’ he took both her hands in his. ‘Now, I know I’ve said this before, but I’m very excited about this idea.’

  ‘You’re right, I have heard you say that before,’ she laughed.

  ‘Okay, you know what? I’m not going to say anything more about it, I’m just going to go ahead and get it started,’ he straightened his collar and buttoned his cuffs. ‘So when I call you in a couple of weeks, be ready.’

  ‘Sure thing, Trent,’ Shanti shook her head. ‘I’ll be waiting by the phone.’

  ‘That’s my girl.’ Trent slapped a few bills on the bar. ‘Gavin, really great to meet you, man. You seem very switched on. Will you leave your deets with Shanti, so I can get in touch?’

  ‘I guess so,’ Gavin met Trent’s outstretched hand. ‘Are you planning another survey?’

  ‘No. So I can find you and kill you if you try and steal my idea,’ Trent stared directly at Gavin, holding his grip but not shaking it. Several moments passed.

  ‘Ha! I’m just fucking with you, Gavin,’ laughed Trent. Gavin exhaled and held his chest in relief. ‘As if I’d kill you myself.’