Matchmaker Mayhem
Chapter 54: The Tech vs. The Human Touch

Chapter 54: The Tech vs. The Human Touch

The day after the exhibit floor chaos, the convention’s main event loomed large on the schedule: a high-stakes live matchmaking challenge in front of a panel of judges. This was Ava’s moment to prove that human intuition could beat Julian’s cold, calculated algorithms—and, naturally, to not let Mei turn it into a sideshow again. But in a room full of tech giants, celebrity astrologers, and skeptical judges, the stakes were higher than Ava could have imagined.

---

Ava, Ryan, and Mei shuffled into the ballroom that morning, armed with coffee and determination. The ballroom was transformed into a live stage, complete with towering LED screens, plush judges’ seats, and a digital countdown clock ominously ticking toward the start of the challenge.

"Wow," Ryan said, glancing around at the setup. "They’re really leaning into the reality show aesthetic."

"This isn’t reality TV," Ava muttered, gripping her clipboard. "It’s matchmaking. Serious matchmaking."

Ryan smirked. "Right. Serious matchmaking with giant screens and a live audience."

"Focus, Ryan," Ava snapped, though her own nerves were starting to show. She glanced toward the far side of the ballroom, where Julian Ashcroft stood with his team. He looked irritatingly composed, as if he’d already won.

Julian caught her eye and gave her a smug little wave.

Ava scowled. "I hate him."

"You don’t hate him," Ryan said, sipping his coffee.

"I do," Ava replied, glaring harder. "He’s the human embodiment of a pop-up ad. Smug, unnecessary, and impossible to ignore."

Ryan chuckled. "And here I thought I was your only nemesis."

"You’re a close second," Ava said, but there was a flicker of amusement in her voice.

Before Ryan could retort, the event organizer, a sharply dressed woman with a clipboard and a headset, stepped onto the stage. She tapped the mic, silencing the hum of conversation.

"Welcome to the Matchmaking Showdown," she announced. "Today’s challenge is simple: each team will be assigned a real client with specific romantic goals. You will have thirty minutes to find them a match from the pool of participants. The judges will evaluate your methods, and the winning team will receive ten points toward the convention leaderboard."

The crowd murmured with excitement. Ava felt her stomach tighten.

---

As Ava and Ryan huddled to strategize, Mei sidled up to them, holding what appeared to be a handwritten notebook filled with her "ideas."

"Listen, dear," Mei began, flipping through her pages. "I’ve brainstormed some excellent tactics for this challenge. We need to think outside the box. Like pairing opposites—remember that time I set up the sushi chef with the food critic? They hated each other, but then—"

"Grandma," Ava interrupted, pinching the bridge of her nose. "No offense, but I think we should stick to a more... traditional approach."

Mei frowned. "Traditional? Where’s the fun in that?"

"The fun comes when we win," Ava said firmly. She turned to Ryan. "What do you think?"

"I think we should keep Mei away from the stage," Ryan deadpanned. "Just a thought."

"Rude," Mei huffed, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she wandered off toward the refreshment table, muttering something about how "nobody appreciates genius anymore."

---

As Ava and Ryan strategized over their clipboard, Mei meandered back toward them with the air of someone who had absolutely no intention of staying out of the way. In her hand was her infamous notebook—stuffed with mismatched papers, a few photographs, and what appeared to be a pressed flower taped to the cover.

"Listen up, team," Mei began, slapping the notebook down on the table in front of Ava and Ryan. "I’ve spent years honing my matchmaking expertise, and I think it’s time I imparted some of my—" she paused dramatically, "—unconventional wisdom."

Ryan leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "This ought to be good."

Ava groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Grandma, we don’t have time for—"

"Time is relative!" Mei interrupted, flipping open her notebook. The pages were filled with chaotic scrawls, doodles of hearts and arrows, and phrases like "opposites attract" and "never trust a Pisces with commitment issues." "Now, I know matchmaking is all about intuition. But sometimes, intuition needs a little push. A nudge. A full-on shove, if necessary."

Ryan gestured toward the notebook. "And I’m guessing that’s the shove?"

"Precisely," Mei said with a grin. She flipped to a page titled The Art of the Unexpected Connection. "Take Emily, for example. She’s sweet, she’s a dreamer—but she’s way too in her head. What she needs is someone who’ll challenge her. Shake things up."

Ava raised an eyebrow. "You mean Derek? Because he’s literally perfect for her. They both love jazz. They’re both creative. It’s an obvious match."

"Obvious is boring, dear," Mei said, as if Ava had just suggested matching a cat with a fish. "Why not pair her with that investment banker over there?" She pointed toward a tall man who was currently explaining compound interest to a bewildered bartender.

"Absolutely not," Ava said firmly, shaking her head. "Emily would run screaming in the first five minutes."

Mei tutted. "And that’s exactly why it could work! Opposites create sparks."

Ryan, clearly entertained, leaned closer. "You mean like the sparks from the argument they’d definitely have over what counts as a ’fun weekend’?"

Mei shot him a withering look. "Mock all you want, young man, but my methods have a 92% success rate."

"Do they, though?" Ryan asked, smirking. "Because I distinctly remember your ’spaghetti date night’ idea ending in a food fight."

"That was an outlier," Mei said, brushing off the comment. "And they ended up together anyway."

"They also ended up banned from that restaurant," Ava muttered under her breath.

Ignoring her, Mei continued flipping through her notebook until she found another page, this one titled Emergency Matchmaking Gambits. "If all else fails," she said, holding it up like it was a sacred text, "there’s always the ’accidental spill.’"

Ava blinked. "The what?"

"The accidental spill," Mei repeated, as if it were obvious. "You ’accidentally’ bump into the client’s match of choice while carrying a drink. Nothing bonds people like shared embarrassment."

Ryan barked a laugh. "That’s your plan? Turn matchmaking into a slapstick comedy?"

"It works!" Mei insisted, slapping the table for emphasis. "Back in 1992, I spilled hot cocoa on a man who ended up proposing to me three months later."

Ava stared at her. "You mean Harold."

"Exactly!" Mei said triumphantly.

"Grandma," Ava said slowly, "you two were already dating when that happened."

"Details," Mei said with a wave of her hand.

Ryan turned to Ava, clearly enjoying himself. "You have to admit, it’s creative."

"It’s insane," Ava corrected. She snapped the notebook shut and pushed it back toward Mei. "Thanks for the... suggestions, but I think we’ll stick to our plan."

Mei huffed, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she grabbed a canapé off a nearby tray and began munching thoughtfully. "Fine. Do it your way. But if things go south, don’t come crying to me."

Ava and Ryan were introduced to their client, a nervous woman in her mid-thirties named Emily. She was a graphic designer with a love of jazz music and an admitted fear of online dating.

"I just want to meet someone who... gets me," Emily said, twisting her hands nervously. "Someone who isn’t afraid to talk about feelings."

Ava nodded, already scanning the participant profiles on her clipboard. "Don’t worry. We’ll find the right person for you."

Meanwhile, across the stage, Julian was working with his client—a suave tech entrepreneur named Max who wanted someone "ambitious and equally driven." Julian’s team had already plugged Max’s preferences into their algorithm, and the big screen above their booth lit up with a sleek, scrolling list of potential matches.

Ava’s stomach sank as the audience murmured in awe. The screen even displayed compatibility percentages in bold, glowing numbers.

Ryan leaned over. "That’s flashy."

"It’s overcomplicated," Ava muttered, though she couldn’t help feeling a pang of doubt.

"You’ve got this," Ryan said, his voice low but reassuring. "We just need one solid match. Let him have his fancy graphs."

Ava nodded, refocusing. She scanned the participant list, her eyes landing on a soft-spoken music teacher named Derek who had a profile full of heartfelt answers. She tapped his name with her pen. "I think he’s our guy."

---

As the clock ticked down on their thirty-minute matchmaking session, Ava and Ryan were putting the finishing touches on their presentation. Emily and Derek were seated together, chatting happily about their favorite jazz artists, and Ava couldn’t help but feel a surge of confidence.

Until she spotted Mei.

"What is she doing?" Ava hissed, her eyes narrowing as she watched Mei saunter toward Julian’s booth.

Julian, ever composed, was in the middle of presenting his algorithm to the judges when Mei casually leaned over his display table. She plucked a cucumber slice off a decorative water pitcher and popped it into her mouth.

"Excuse me," Julian said, his tone icy. "Can I help you?"

"Oh, don’t mind me," Mei said with an innocent smile. "Just curious about all these fancy graphs and numbers. It’s very... what’s the word... cold."

Julian’s jaw tightened. "It’s data-driven."

"Of course," Mei said, nodding. "Because nothing says romance like a spreadsheet."

Ryan, now fully invested in the unfolding drama, nudged Ava. "Your grandma’s trolling a billionaire. This is better than TV."

"Stop enjoying this!" Ava whispered, though she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

Mei continued, her tone sweet but undeniably pointed. "Tell me, Mr. Ashcroft, do your algorithms account for things like, oh, I don’t know, spontaneity? Or are surprise picnics and unplanned kisses too messy for your charts?"

Julian’s eyes narrowed. "Our algorithms are designed to optimize compatibility."

"Ah," Mei said, feigning understanding. "So it’s all about optimization. Very romantic."

Ava groaned, burying her face in her hands. "She’s going to get us disqualified."

But to Ava’s surprise—and horror—Mei wasn’t finished. She turned to the judges, holding up the cucumber slice like it was a prop in a courtroom drama. "Ladies and gentlemen, I ask you: is love really something you can measure with an algorithm? Or is it something that grows from the unpredictable, the imperfect, the beautifully human moments?"

The judges exchanged glances, clearly amused. Julian, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to throttle Mei.

"Thank you for your... input," Julian said through gritted teeth. "But we prefer to let the results speak for themselves."

Mei gave him a wink and sauntered back to Ava and Ryan, looking thoroughly pleased with herself.

"What was that?" Ava demanded as Mei rejoined them.

"A little strategic interference," Mei said, brushing imaginary dust off her shoulder. "You’re welcome."

"Strategic interference?" Ava repeated, incredulous. "You basically called his entire system soulless in front of the judges!"

"Because it is," Mei said simply. "And they deserved to know that."

Ryan, still chuckling, clapped Mei on the back. "I don’t know whether to be impressed or terrified."

"Both," Ava muttered, glaring at Mei. "Just... stay out of the way for the rest of the challenge. Please."

"Fine," Mei said, though the glint in her eye suggested she wasn’t done causing trouble.

---

By the time the results were announced, Ava was torn between relief and exhaustion. Mei’s antics had certainly spiced things up, but Ava couldn’t deny that Emily and Derek’s connection had ultimately spoken for itself.

"You’re welcome," Mei said smugly as they collected their points.

"Don’t push your luck," Ava replied, though a small smile tugged at her lips.

Because, as much as Mei drove her crazy, Ava had to admit—chaos and all—they made a pretty good team.