ShelfLife

by Barrie Seppings

  Once the startup imploded, he wasted no time in recalling her to Munich, offering a small studio apartment above one of his restaurants. She virtually begged a couple of ex-university colleagues to give her the role at Opod, but the arrangement drove her into a financial cul-de-sac of ongoing payments to her uncle.

  ‘When are we going to get started on my catering website, eh Shanti?’ asked her uncle as the extended family settled around the large table at the back of the restaurant. Shanti almost choked on her chapati. ‘Amira tells me you could be leaving the travel company soon. Why you didn’t share the good news earlier?’

  ‘Papa, that’s not what I said!’ Amira wailed, but was shushed by her mother.

  ‘I never said I was leaving Opod, Uncle. They’re making some management changes before they list on the stock exchange, that’s all.’ Shanti shot a quick glare at Amira, who mouthed a ‘sorry’ and returned her gaze to her plate.

  ‘Well, maybe you’ll get a promotion.’ Her uncle brushed his luxurious moustache as he smiled at her. ‘More money and less work. Isn’t that how it goes in these big companies?’

  ‘You know I’m working almost as hard as you, Uncle,’ Shanti smiled, trying to move the conversation along.

  ‘And that is why you find it so difficult to meet a husband, isn’t it?’ her uncle winked.

  The table broke into laughter, some genuine, some polite. She fumed quietly as the food made its way around the table. Experience had taught her that each time she earned a little more freedom, her uncle managed to add something to the tab. She was only paying interest, the principal was never reduced. What she needed was a wholesale buy-out.

  ***

  ‘The coding is not the tricky part, it’s basically a trading platform. But how would the actual swaps work? Something like a barista would be fine. Most retail would work. Even some low level entertainment gigs. But as soon as you’re talking about skilled jobs, where you need to know what you’re doing, then I think you’re asking for trouble.’ Shanti stretched and produced an XL-sized yawn.

  ‘I know it’s late there in Cher-many,’ said Trent, ‘but can you please turn away from the screen when you do that?’

  ‘Why don’t you just turn off the video? If you want table manners, you’re going to have to start paying me,’ Shanti countered.

  ‘Ah, yes, I wanted to talk to you about that,’ said Trent, moving in closer to his screen. ‘I’ve decided to leave Mediclinical and concentrate on building this idea into a company.’

  ‘For real?’

  ‘For real. I just can’t see myself working for my parents for ever.’

  ‘Wow. I’m impressed, Trent. How’d they take it?’

  ‘Fine, but I didn’t call you to talk about my parents. I want to talk about us.’

  ‘Us. What do you mean us?’

  ‘I mean us as co-founders of this company,’ Trent put his hands together under his chin. ‘Shanti, if we’re going to change people’s lives, let’s start with our own. Let’s build this company together. You and me.’

  ‘Whoah. I mean, it’s a really cool idea and all, but to get it to where it’s got enough scale to make money? You realise how much work that would take?’

  ‘You’ve never been afraid of work, Shanti. In fact, that’s why you’re one of the few people I would even consider doing this with.’

  ‘Flattery might work with all those Upper East Side girls you chase around the Village, but I need to eat. I got rent to pay. I’ve got my job, my family…’

  ‘So do I, Shanti,’ said Trent.

  ‘Your family is a little different to mine, Trent. They’re not keeping a ledger of everything you owe them.’

  ‘Don’t be so sure,’ said Trent. ‘Look, I’ve already got some seed funding lined up to cover hard costs for the development phase.’

  ‘Did your parents decide to invest?’

  ‘In a manner of speaking. But I’m only asking you to contribute sweat equity.’

  ‘Sounds icky.’

  ‘What I mean is you don’t have to pay for your share of the company. I’m offering you equity.’

  ‘What’s the catch?’

  ‘The sweat. We can’t pay ourselves a salary for the first month, but we’ll each have a stake in what is virtually guaranteed to become an extremely valuable part of the sharing economy,’ said Trent with a flourish.

  ‘Virtually guaranteed?’

  ‘C’mon, Shanti, paychecks are for suckers.’

  ‘Careful, you sound like you’re begging. Not a good look for you.’

  ‘I am begging, Shanti. You’re the smartest developer I know. Hell, you’re the smartest anything I know,’ said Trent. ‘You’re way too smart to work for those pinhead Swedes you’ve been complaining about. You’re too smart to work for anybody.’

  ‘Except for you, it would seem,’ she said with a smile.

  ‘Not for me, with me. I’m talking equity. I’m securing a house somewhere cool and we’re bunkering down as a team. It’ll be like a working holiday but with a big fat payday at the end. Besides, you’ve pretty much sketched out all the tech we’ll need already.’

  ‘I was just spit-balling what you’d need for the trading platform. That’s not a proper scope,’ said Shanti, shaking her head. ‘Besides, I’m not going to quit my job for you, Trent. It’s the only thing keeping me out of a vat of ghee.’

  ‘Didn’t you say those Swedes boxed most of your team this week? Then they put your projects on hold? That doesn’t sound promising.’

  ‘A lot of stuff has gone on hold while the buyout’s finalised.’

  ‘Sounds like London all over again, Shanti. Aren’t you worried?’

  ‘It’s the opposite of London, Trent. That was a shitty business, run by arseholes, which ran out of money because no-one wanted to invest,’ Shanti pushed her hair back from her eyes. ‘Opod is a solid business – ’

  ‘Also run by assholes.’

  ‘Okay, agreed. Run by “assholes”, who just got a massive injection of funds because someone wants to buy them. Totally different.’

  ‘Except for the part where you did all the work but still ended up with no equity in either company,’ said Trent crossing his arms. ‘I’ve got some friends who would be interested in trialling the service. Some bike couriers, some people in PR, a camera assistant. I bet you have too, over there in Munich.’

  ‘Maybe a couple of people, yeah.’

  ‘We just need to knuckle down and build the prototype platform, put our friends on it, send it live and see if it takes off. Then you can decide if you want to be a co-founder of an incredibly cool and successful startup, or do database integration for some ungrateful Swedes who will probably outsource your job to Bangalore within a year.’

  ‘Racist much?’

  ‘Oh come on Shanti,’ Trent waved her question away. ‘You know what I mean.’

  Shanti studied the slightly pixelated Trent on her laptop. Clearly, Southby had lit a fire under him. Every night for the past week he had peppered her with lengthy emails asking about platforms and technology, servers and cloud storage, transaction gateways and security. In the past, his ideas had been evaporated by the friction of having to figure out how to make them work. This time he was on a mission.

  ‘Are those packing cartons behind you? Are you moving house?’

  ‘I’m going all in, Shanti. I’m going to set up a scrum base in a low-cost city somewhere so we can do zero to launch in thirty days,’ Trent held up a slim paperback with exactly those words on the cover. ‘Co-location is the key to innovation. I’m thinking somewhere in South East Asia.’

  Shanti found the idea of a few weeks away incredibly appealing, but she’d have to figure out what to tell her uncle. Overseas holidays weren’t part of his repayment schedule.

  ‘I won’t quit Opod, but I might be able to help get you to launch. I’ve got a lot of leave owing which I have to use up before the merger goes through or I could lose it completely.’

  ‘Perfect. We
build the prototype on an existing e-commerce template and re-jig it to fit our idea. The book says we shouldn’t be doing work someone else has already done. Shortcuts are the new black, Shanti.’

  ‘Tell your book it’s wrong. Building on someone else’s tech is a house of cards. It’ll either be buggy as hell or they’ll just keep jacking the licensing fees,’ Shanti pushed the hair back from her eyes. ‘If you want me in, we do the build my way, with my code.’

  ‘How long will that take?’

  ‘Maybe six weeks to do it right.’

  ‘Can’t give you that long. Thirty days is the plan. All we need is a rough looking prototype and a good-looking team of founders. I need you to help me find a hipster.’

  ‘Why on earth would we need a hipster?’

  ‘It’s all about the three H’s,’ Trent tapped the book’s cover. ‘I’m the hustler, leading the team, finding the deals. You’re the hacker, making the tech decisions, doing the build. Then we just need a hipster to make everything look cool.’

  ‘You mean a web designer or a UX lead?’

  ‘I’m not sure what I mean, exactly. But you do, so I’m going to let you make this hire.’

  ‘Except there’s no money to hire them with, right?’

  ‘Oh, Shanti, stop worrying about the lack of cash for today. Dream about the equity of tomorrow,’ Trent threw his hands up, halfway between a beg and a prayer. ‘We’re going to have an awesome adventure, in a magical foreign land, building the best thing since sliced Facebook. Then we sell it to some fat VC guy and live very happily ever after. You’ll have to beat the candidates off with a stick.’

  ‘Do they have to come to Asia with us? And please don’t choose India, ok Trent?’

  ‘Now look who’s racist.’

  Shanti folded her arms, pursed her lips and stared into the webcam.

  ‘You know I’m joking. Yes, they will come with us. Co-location is key. My seed funding will cover costs for the build period. Including travel and accommodation,’ said Trent, rubbing his hands together. ‘Mad design skills are table stakes. They also need to be pretty dialled in to what the cool kids are doing.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Don’t hire someone who’s a complete dick. We’ll be living and breathing this thing together in the one house for thirty days. So pick someone you wouldn’t mind spending serious time with, at close quarters. Do you have someone in mind?’

  Shanti leaned back from the computer and gave her upper arms a gentle squeeze. ‘I think I can get my hands on a pretty decent candidate.’

  ***

  ‘Social media. Virtual reality. Augmented retail. Mega data. Drone-powered commerce. What do these things have in common?’

  The entire agency had filed into the presentation area, squeezing onto the oversized timber staircase and spilling onto the polished concrete floor. A girthy man wearing a black and red striped shirt, like some sort of Freddy Kruger homage, paced the stage. His full head of tight ringlets was held back on one side by a headset microphone.

  ‘Opportunity,’ he paused and surveyed the room. ‘In every one of these new technologies is an opportunity just waiting to be cracked. But you have to move fast. You have to be first. Because once it’s been done, it’s been done. And you don’t get a gold pencil for making the first copy of someone else’s fresh idea. Today’s Friday. You know the drill. You have the entire weekend to generate a fresh load of award-winning ideas to pitch to me at our weekly Idea Slam on Monday morning. Let’s go to work, people.’

  Gavin waited for the stairs to clear before making his way back to his desk. He watched as several of his colleagues milled around the speaker, all trying to talk at once.

  ‘Inspired by our fearless new creative leader?’ a thin blonde girl paused as she negotiated the stairs.

  ‘You mean feckless.’

  ‘Careful Gav, that’s treason,’ the blonde girl shook her head and smiled.

  ‘You going to turn me in?’ Gavin stood up.

  ‘More fun to watch you perjure yourself. I give it a week before you tell this dickhead to shove it,’ she said, nodding towards Girthy Ringlets.

  ‘Now who’s talking treason?’

  ‘We’re all thinking it. You’re the only one reckless enough to say it,’ she shook her hair out and clambered down the last steps. ‘Me? I like my paycheck too much.’

  Seven days back from Southby and Gavin was still struggling with re-entry to real life. He sought comfort with his housemates and friends but their familiarity rubbed like a stone in his shoe. Although it took him a while to notice, his constant refrain of ‘when I was at Southby’ was proving to be a similar irritation to them. He milled about at staff drinks on Friday night just long enough for people to remember seeing him there, then made for the station.

  ‘You should have called. I would have saved some supper for you.’ Gavin’s mother opened the door just past nine o’clock. She kept her long grey hair in a thick braid and her glasses on a chain around her neck. ‘Are you staying the weekend? Where’s your bike? Is Troy with you? I like Troy.’

  ‘No, just me Mum,’ said Gavin, kissing her cheek as he shuffled through the hallway. ‘I meant to call you from the train but I zoned out.’

  He fell into the worn sofa beside the small combustion stove. It had been mild enough in the city but here, where the suburban sprawl started to splinter into hobby farms and weekend retreats that dotted the ridges and gullies out to the National Park, nightfall brought a definite chill.

  ‘Do you want some wine? It’s a decent Shiraz.’ His mother moved a pile of books from an armchair and settled herself in.

  ‘Might have some later. I feel like I’ve been drinking constantly,’ he said.

  ‘Are you running away from a bad week at work?’

  ‘I’m not running away from anything, Mum. I just wanted to come out and see you.’

  ‘You didn’t bring your bike, or your friends. Or any washing for me to do,’ she nodded at the messenger bag slumped at Gavin’s feet. ‘You never were a good bluffer, son. You haven’t improved much.’

  ‘Shiraz, was it?’ Gavin pushed himself off the sofa and sauntered into the kitchen. ‘And yes, work is completely sucking, thanks for asking.’

  ‘That’s my job, remember,’ she called from the living room. ‘You sounded so excited last weekend when you got back from your trip to Hollywood. What changed?’

  ‘The trip was to Texas, mum. And I think that’s part of the problem.’ He poured a glass and returned to the lounge room to top up his mother’s. ‘I saw so many cool ideas, people starting things, building things. So much energy in that week. Then I come back here and it’s all just…’

  ‘The same?’

  Gavin nodded as he took his seat. ‘Everything feels petty and small-minded, even my friends. It’s probably just me. Thought it would be best to stay away from people for a couple of days before I say something regrettable.’

  ‘So I’m not considered people?’

  ‘See, I did it again. Sorry, Mum. It’ll pass, I guess.’

  ‘Except it won’t,’ she said. ‘You can’t put the genie back in the bottle. You’re too much like your father.’

  ‘You mean I’m an arsehole?’

  ‘I didn’t mean that,’ she said, laughing a little. ‘Do I wish your father was still here for you? Of course. But then I’d be wishing for him to be a different man. If you’ve seen something you think you really want, you won’t be happy until you go and get it.’

  ‘I don’t know, Mum. It’s a long shot,’ Gavin pulled his beanie off and rubbed his scalp. ‘Today I got an offer from some people who want me to help them start a new company. It’s a killer idea and they seem smart, but I only met them the once, at that tech conference. I’ve been back and forth with their Chief Technical Officer this week. She’s super smart and seems really, really nice. Indian girl, but she lives in Germany for some reason.’

  ‘Are you more interested in the company?’ his mother sat fo
rward in her armchair. ‘Or in the girl?’

  ‘There’s not really a company yet. It’s just an idea for a service but if we can get it to work, it would be so incredibly cool.’ Gavin smiled and took a slug of wine. ‘Why do you always think everything is about the girl?’

  ‘Like I said. You remind me of your father.’

  Get into the chopper if you want to retain equity

  ‘Whose crazy fucking idea was this, eh?’ said Gavin as he climbed the stairs, drawn to the caramel-skinned girl in the yellow sundress.

  ‘You can’t change your life sitting on a sofa, now can you?’ Shanti furled her parasol as she stood in front of the palace entrance.

  Their emails since Austin had flip-flopped between serious technical discussion and flirtatious banter. Their Skype calls were usually followed by Gavin enlarging and enhancing her LinkedIn profile picture, studying her wide, dark eyes and trying to remember the exact contours of her body. He reached the top of the steps and leaned in for the reunion kiss – the catalyst for a sensational night of reunion sex.

  ‘And you’re just as crazy for agreeing to go along with it.’ Shanti went to kiss him on the cheek, ducking a little as he made for her lips.

  Gavin caught himself trying to re-manoeuvre and pretended to stumble on the top step.

  ‘You okay?’ she asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.

  ‘I’m fine. Just the heat,’ he covered, wiping his forehead with the back of his arm. ‘Did Trent say where to meet him, exactly?’

  ‘Ho Chi Minh City. Reunification Palace. Thursday. Around noon. That’s all I got,’ said Shanti, heading in through the main doors. ‘He has a penchant for the dramatic.’

  After Shanti had talked him into joining their ‘little startup experiment’ Gavin realised he knew almost nothing about Vietnam beyond what Trent had told them: high-octane coffee, cheap beer, dazzling local food, decent internet speeds, low rents and manageable visa requirements. At first Gavin had regarded his own dramatic resignation from the agency as a demonstration of both his integrity and his low tolerance for dickheads. But when Shanti explained that she had arranged a ‘personal development’ sabbatical from her job, it struck Gavin as a far more mature approach than his own ‘scorched earth’ strategy. So he borrowed Shanti’s sabbatical story and claimed he was on a similar arrangement. Trent was fond of reminding them there was no real future in being an employee. The way he had been talking, they were about to write themselves an entirely new future, in both code and cash. All they had to do now was write the code.