Bumble

Cupid used to be the most important man in love. Then Bumble made him redundant. The campaign imagines a world where the old machinery of romance has finally been outperformed by the app. No arrows. No divine timing. No drunk little angel deciding who gets lonely tonight. Just a system so efficient that heaven had to close the position.

The posters treat Cupid like a laid off worker wandering through the ruins of his own profession. He sits in laundromats, fast food booths, grocery aisles, buses, bars, and empty cinemas, wings dirty, halo flickering, bow useless in his hands. The joke lands first, then the sadness follows. A mythological figure built for desire has become another unemployed man in bad socks.

POSITION CLOSED turns Bumble’s speed and precision into a public obituary for outdated romance. Love no longer waits for an arrow from above. It opens the app, makes the first move, and leaves Cupid outside with nowhere to clock in.