Run: 2026-02-16-01KHK987XEDPGMVQNDQZ7H9PS8

Run Details

Model:: GPT-5.1
Test:: Write N of X
Scenario:: 50 sentence summary
Duration:: 35.9s
Cost:: $0.022276
Provider:: OpenAI

Model input

User/Human

Summarize the following text into exactly 50 sentences, only return the summary itself:

Jack Harper's fingers drummed against the polished bar top, the rhythm a stark contrast to the lazy steel drum music floating through the air. The salty breeze ruffled his meticulously styled hair, carrying the scent of coconut sunscreen and grilled seafood. Sunset Cove was a far cry from Wall Street, and his body knew it. His shoulders, usually tight with the weight of million-dollar deals, didn't know what to do with this forced relaxation.

He glanced at his watch. 6:30 PM. In New York, he'd be heading into a late meeting, not... whatever this was.

"Another scotch. Neat."

A melodic laugh floated over the bar noise. "Rough day at the beach?"

Jack's head snapped up, his gaze colliding with a pair of eyes that put the tropical waters to shame. The bartender's lips curved in amusement, a stark contrast to the judgmental stares he was accustomed to in New York.

"I don't see how anyone gets any work done around here."

"That's the point." She slid the scotch towards him, her movements fluid and unhurried. "We don't."

Jack's fingers closed around the glass, but he didn't lift it. "Some of us have empires to build."

"And some of us are happy with sandcastles." She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. The scent of vanilla and sea salt enveloped him. "They're more fun to knock down anyway."

A reluctant smile tugged at Jack's lips. His gaze dropped to her name tag. "Sandy, right?"

"Good eye, Mr..."

"Harper. Jack Harper."

"Well, Mr. Harper, what brings a suit like you to our little slice of paradise? You stick out like a penguin at a flamingo party."

Jack loosened his tie, suddenly aware of how out of place he must look. "Business. Though I'm starting to question my CEO's choice of location for our corporate retreat."

Sandy grabbed a pineapple from a nearby fruit bowl, spinning it in her hands like a basketball. "Let me guess. You're more of a concrete jungle type? All go, no slow?"

"The numbers don't lie. Time is money, and this place..." He waved his hand at the laid-back patrons, the swaying palm trees, the endless stretch of golden sand visible through the open-air bar. A pair of surfers trudged past, boards under their arms, laughing about something he couldn't hear. "It's a productivity black hole."

Sandy's eyebrow arched, a challenge sparking in her eyes. "Maybe you're looking at the wrong numbers."

"Excuse me?"

She set the pineapple down and gestured towards the horizon. The setting sun painted the sky in brilliant oranges and pinks, its light dancing off the waves. "How much would you pay for that view in New York?"

Jack's gaze followed her hand, lingering on the breathtaking canvas nature had laid out. *Damn*. "Point taken."

"So, Jack Harper, master of the universe, what's your grand plan for Sunset Cove domination? Going to turn our little tiki bars into high-rises?"

He chuckled, surprised by how easily she drew him in. There was something about her – a spark, a quick wit that both challenged and intrigued him. "Would you believe me if I said I was here to destroy your quaint little town and build a mega-resort?"

Sandy's eyes widened in mock horror. She pressed a hand to her chest, her expression comically aghast. "You monster. And here I thought you were just another handsome face in an overpriced suit."

"Handsome, huh?"

"Don't let it go to your head. We get all types here." She grabbed a cocktail shaker, her hands moving with practiced ease as she mixed a drink for another customer. "Last week we had a guy who thought he was a mermaid. Now *that* was a look."

Jack leaned in, mirroring her earlier movement. The bar's bamboo edge dug into his stomach, but he barely noticed. "And what type am I?"

Sandy paused, studying him with an intensity that made his pulse quicken. "The kind that needs to loosen his tie and remember how to breathe." She reached out, her fingers brushing his collar. Jack froze, caught off guard by the casual intimacy. "You've got a bit of New York still clinging to you. Might want to dust that off if you plan on surviving here."

Their eyes locked, a challenge sparked between them. Jack felt a flutter in his chest that had nothing to do with the scotch. For a moment, the bar faded away. The music, the laughter, the crash of waves on the shore – it all became white noise.

A loud crash from the other end of the bar shattered the moment. Sandy straightened, professional mask sliding back into place. "Duty calls. Looks like someone's had a few too many Mai Tais."

"Wait-" Jack started, not ready for the conversation to end.

Sandy glanced back, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Try not to work too hard, Mr. Harper. You might accidentally enjoy yourself."

She sauntered away, navigating the crowded bar with ease. Jack watched her go, drawn to the confidence in her stride, the way other patrons lit up as she passed.

*What the hell just happened?*

He turned back to the bar, catching his reflection in the mirrored backsplash. His tie hung loose, his usually perfectly coiffed hair tousled by the sea breeze. He hardly recognized himself.

His phone buzzed, shattering the moment. A message from Marcus flashed on the screen: "Update on the Sinclair account? Don't forget why you're there, Harper."

Reality came crashing back. Jack downed the rest of his scotch, the expensive liquor wasted on his suddenly dry throat. He stood, straightening his tie and smoothing back his hair.

*Focus, Harper. You're not here to flirt with bartenders.*

But as he walked out, the warm wood of the deck creaking under his polished shoes, he couldn't help glancing back. Sandy stood behind the bar, laughing at something a customer said. The fading sunlight caught her hair, turning it to spun gold.

*This could be a problem.*

The ocean breeze hit him as he stepped onto the beach, carrying away the last notes of the bar's music. Jack paused, his shoes sinking slightly into the sand. To his left, the neatly manicured path led back to the resort – back to his laptop, his reports, his familiar world of numbers and deals.

To his right, the beach stretched out, wild and inviting. A few people lingered, silhouetted against the darkening sky. A couple walked hand in hand at the water's edge. A child's delighted shriek carried on the wind as they chased the retreating waves.

Jack's phone buzzed again. Another message from Marcus.

He looked back at the Tiki Hut. Through the windows, he could just make out Sandy's profile as she mixed another drink.

*Get it together, Harper. Eyes on the prize.*

With a final glance at the sunset, Jack turned left, his shoes leaving perfectly formed imprints in the sand as he headed back to his room. But even as he walked away, he could still hear Sandy's laugh, could still feel the ghost of her fingers against his collar.

Sunset Cove, it seemed, had more to offer than he'd bargained for.

Model response

Jack Harper sits at a beach bar in Sunset Cove, restless despite the relaxed island vibe.  
The steel drum music, salty breeze, and coconut and seafood scents contrast sharply with his Wall Street life.  
His body, used to high pressure and late meetings, resists the idea of relaxation.  
At 6:30 pm he notes that in New York he would be heading into a meeting instead of lingering at a bar.  
He orders another scotch neat, signaling his discomfort more than his thirst.  
The bartender teases him by asking if he has had a rough day at the beach.  
Her amused tone differs from the judgment he is used to in New York.  
Jack complains that he cannot understand how anyone gets work done in such a place.  
She replies that they simply do not work like he does.  
Jack insists that some people have empires to build.  
She counters that some people prefer sandcastles, which are more fun to knock down.  
Her playful attitude makes him smile despite himself.  
He checks her name tag and learns that her name is Sandy.  
He introduces himself as Jack Harper.  
Sandy remarks that he looks out of place, like a penguin in a flock of flamingos.  
Jack admits he is there on business for a corporate retreat and questions the choice of location.  
Sandy jokes that he must be an all go, no slow city type.  
Jack calls the town a productivity black hole, gesturing at the relaxed patrons and palm trees.  
Sandy challenges his numbers driven view.  
She points out the sunset over the ocean and asks what he would pay for such a view in New York.  
Jack is forced to concede that she has a point.  
She asks if he plans to dominate Sunset Cove and replace tiki bars with high rises.  
He jokingly claims he might destroy the town and build a mega resort.  
She pretends to be horrified but also calls him handsome in an offhand way.  
Jack seizes on the compliment, but she brushes it aside and says they see all types there.  
She mentions a past customer who believed he was a mermaid.  
Curious, Jack asks what type she thinks he is.  
Sandy studies him and says he is the type who needs to loosen his tie and remember how to breathe.  
She lightly touches his collar, telling him he still has New York clinging to him.  
The casual intimacy unsettles and excites Jack.  
Their eyes lock, and the surrounding sounds fade into the background for him.  
A crash at the other end of the bar breaks the moment.  
Sandy abruptly returns to work, saying someone has had too many Mai Tais.  
As she leaves, she advises Jack not to work too hard or he might accidentally enjoy himself.  
Jack watches her move confidently through the crowd, noticing how other patrons respond to her.  
He wonders what just happened to his normally controlled self.  
Seeing his reflection, he realizes his tie is loose and his hair is mussed by the sea breeze.  
He barely recognizes this relaxed version of himself.  
His phone buzzes with a message from his colleague Marcus demanding an update on a major account.  
The message drags him back to his business focused reality.  
Jack tosses back the rest of his scotch and straightens his appearance.  
He reminds himself that he is not there to flirt with bartenders.  
Still, he glances back at Sandy laughing behind the bar, her hair glowing in the sunset.  
He senses that his attraction to her could become a complication.  
Stepping onto the beach, he feels the breeze and the sand under his polished shoes.  
One path leads neatly back to the resort and his work.  
The other direction offers an open, inviting stretch of beach with people enjoying the evening.  
Another text from Marcus pulls his attention back toward responsibility.  
Jack chooses the path toward the resort and his laptop, trying to keep his eyes on the prize.  
As he walks away, he still hears Sandy’s laugh and realizes Sunset Cove may offer more than he expected.

Evaluation details

Result

Evaluator

Details

Meta Data

100.0000%

Matches sentence count

n/a

neededClean	false
sentences	50