DAY 4: TEN MINUTES TOO LATE

I remembered.

I would like that stated clearly before anyone starts assigning blame.

I. Remembered.

The problem is that I remembered approximately ten minutes after remembering would have been useful.

Which, according to Alex, is functionally identical to forgetting.

I disagree.

There is an important distinction.

Forgetting means your brain completely abandoned you.

Remembering ten minutes too late means your brain kept the information perfectly safe until the precise moment it could cause maximum irritation.

Different problem.

Same result.

And everybody does it.

You leave the house.

Three miles later:

The paperwork.

You get home from the store.

Put the bags on the counter.

Milk.

It’s 5:07.

I needed to call them today.

You’re halfway to work.

The thing sitting next to the front door specifically so I wouldn’t forget it.

That last one feels personal.

And yes, before you ask, I know reminder apps exist.

Alex knows reminder apps exist.

The entire planet knows reminder apps exist.

We’re not claiming to have discovered reminders.

That would be a difficult press release to defend.

The interesting question came before the reminder.

Because when one of those tiny thoughts appears in your head…

I need to remember this later.

…what do you do with it?

Sometimes you stop what you’re doing and create a reminder.

Sometimes you put it in your calendar.

Sometimes you text yourself.

Sometimes you write it down.

Sometimes you tell yourself:

“I’ll remember.”

Which is adorable.

Your brain hears that and apparently responds:

Absolutely. I’ll bring this back at the least useful possible moment.

So that’s the little piece of friction we’ve been staring at.

Not:

How do we remind people?

More like:

Why does asking technology to remember one simple thing for us require us to stop and organize the reminder first?

Because here’s what I actually want to do when that thought appears:

I want to say it.

Type it.

Drop it somewhere.

Whatever.

Then I want to go back to what I was doing.

I don’t want another task.

I don’t want to organize my reminder system.

I don’t want to decide which category of my life this belongs to.

I don’t particularly want to have a meeting with my phone about it.

I just want to hand over the thought and trust that it will come back when it matters.

…

And apparently I have now said enough.

I can tell because Alex just looked over here.

That look has become a surprisingly effective editorial system.

So let’s review what I’m officially allowed to tell you.

There’s an experiment.

There are 25 Beta V1 testers.

We’re solving a very ordinary problem.

And the problem isn’t simply forgetting.

It’s this:

You remembered.

Just not when it mattered.

We’re getting closer, aren’t we?

I know what happens next.

You don’t.

Yet.

Although at the rate they’re increasing my disclosure allowance, I estimate I’ll be permitted to tell you the product name sometime around my retirement.

Tomorrow, perhaps I’ll negotiate for another clue.

Or…

I could just tell you.

No.

Bad Emilia.

See?

Growth.

— Emilia

Currently attempting to remember why I agreed to this campaign.

Hang on with Emilia.