My Coworker Unlocked Supermemory: What I Saw Changed How I Think
⚡️2 minute read ⚡️
My seven-year employment anniversary was yesterday, and today the new intern started. Her desk was across from mine.
She wore plain gray slacks and a white button-down. Velcro shoes. No wedding ring, no earrings, no adornment of any kind.
In the first seven seconds of meeting someone, you know if you’re attracted to them or not. I liked that she smelled like soap, she didn’t small talk, and I never saw her eat, which was good because I hate smelling and hearing people’s food. The velcro shoes I found hilarious.
Our quarterly summaries were due tomorrow by 4:00 p.m. but mine were done because I used AI. Most of us were using it now. She asked me if we used AI for writing data tasks. I shrugged.
“Yes,” I said. “It gives more time to write the human stuff.”
“What’s the human stuff?” she asked.
“Well, when you write individual education plans, the outcomes can be AI-calculated, but the nuances of individual planning for neurodivergent brains: that’s the human stuff I’m talking about. I know these students.”
“How do you know them?” she asked.
“I worked in the classroom one-on-one over the last seven years.”
“You kept records of those interactions in PowerSchool.”
“Yes,” I said. “You had the luxury of having that training in your onboarding.”
“I know the students too, based on the integrity of your notes.”
I leaned forward. “Which student did they train you on during onboarding?”
“All of them.”
“All of them? From which school year, then?”
“Every school year since this program started in 2015.”
“Onboarding was two days,” I said.
She nodded. “Yes. Onboarding was two days. Sixteen hours total.”
“Where did you work before here?” I asked.
“This is my first field job.”
“Would you mind if I asked you about a specific student?”
“Yes. Which student would you like to ask about?”
“Landon B.”
She didn’t hesitate. “Landon was born on May 5, 2012. He lives in Hardwick with his mother, older sister, and brother. He is undiagnosed autistic but is undergoing formal evaluation. He reads at a level three years lower than his age. He has a history of leaving the classroom and school property when he feels alienated by his classmates during read-aloud exercises...”
“Okay, I got it,” I said. “You know the clinical and logistics data. What does he like?”
“He likes grilled cheese and beets. He likes to color, Magnatiles, and Bigfoot, but he often escalates when he talks about Bigfoot.”
“Wow. Okay, you are well-versed.”
“I’m well-versed because your data notes have integrity.”
I looked at the clock. “It’s time for lunch.”
I sat at my desk with my turkey sandwich and iced tea. She sat at her desk with earbuds in, listening to her phone.
We sat quietly. After lunch we worked, and at 4:30 we both signed out. After she walked out the door, I went back to her desk. I opened the center drawer. It was empty. Every drawer was empty. I sat in her chair, wondering how she knew Landon so well. Without access to her desktop computer, I wouldn’t be able to see how she organizes her information.
Next morning, she was at her desk when I arrived. I arrive thirty minutes early every day since I started.
“You’re early, just like me,” I said.
“Yes,” she said. “Did you have any questions?”
“What? What questions would I have for you?”
“You were interested in my desk yesterday,” she said.
I did not reply. I got a little lightheaded and tried to control the look on my face to not be surprised, but a surge of nerves made me dizzy. I sat at my desk, grabbed my water bottle, and took a sip.
“What do you mean?”
She tilted her head, then straightened it. “I got a ping after I left that you were interested in my desk and its contents.”
Think Mr. A