Jeeves, Search the Rolodex!

As I may have mentioned (I can't remember), my memory is not the greatest. Not because of anything particularly concerning, like blunt force trauma from a falling piano or targeted brain cell attacks from an irradiated porcupine, but mainly because my brain just doesn't work right. There is definitely the attention span problem (also know as the "crack addled squirrel in my brain"), but there is also a memory processing error.

If something actually makes it past short-term memory, it's there forever. Unfortunately, much like sex, many more bits of information get launched in the direction of my brain than ever complete the journey, if you know what I mean. Kind of like wearing a brain condom. It's particularly bad with names, but also books, movie plots, entire conversations, and something like 90% of junior high (which is probably not a bad thing--I have the general impression that it sucked). One reason I resisted Facebook for so long is the awkwardness of making small talk with people who remember more about me than I do.

Childhood BFF: "Remember that epic time we hung out all day long, and went to the mall, and spent the night, and threw produce at the band director's car, and ran screaming down Beamer wearing bikinis and shaving cream?"

In some ways, it's like the rest of the world comes installed with the latest iPhone while I'm still using a Rolodex. The problem is exacerbated by the fact that, during my 17 years with my current employer, I've worked in every department but budget and IT (if the State ever puts me in charge of either money or computers, we can be confident that it is a sign of some sort of apocalypse, probably involving goats in pajamas), and I've worked on the kind of projects that have introduced me to a lot of people. On a daily basis, people wave and say, "Hi, Diana," and I have to smile and wave while my brain frantically whispers to my little brain butler to spin through the Rolodex.

If you're wondering, the Rolodex is not organized alphabetically, because I can't remember your name. It's organized by where I met you. Obviously, this is significantly less reliable. Sometimes, I never make it past the smile-and-wave, and then, hours later, the Rolodex comes to a sudden stop and I go, "OH! You work in the SSLC Division....<pause>...Your name is Freda!" Which is not usually helpful, particularly if I'm talking to someone else at the time.

It made workgroup meetings a bit like
"Groundhog Day," except that whether or not
Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow, I was
never, ever, ever going to remember her name
until the last 10 minutes of the meeting and
it was always going to be a complete surprise.

There was a six-month workgroup this spring where EVERY SINGLE MEETING I would look at this one particular woman for the entire two hours, frantically trying to remember who she was. And then, usually about ten minutes before the end of the meeting, my brain would go: "Sunset Project! You're the DSHS lady! You're Carolyn! I liked you!" I am reasonably sure I never said any of that out loud, inasmuch as they kept inviting me to the meetings, but the remarkable thing was, I never figured it out any sooner in the meeting, even by the sixth time.

Let's say a normal person gets on the elevator. There's one other person there, and, because they have a Smartphone Brain, they know who she is. The other person says, "Hi, Norma! It's Marsha's last day today. We're all meeting downstairs for lunch." And because the normal person knows who Marsha is, she goes, "Cool, Sally! Have fun!" They probably even make small talk the rest of the trip downstairs. I wouldn't know.

Here's what happened to me.

Person on elevator: Hi, Diana! It's Marsha's last day today. We're all meeting downstairs for lunch."

Me: <awkward pause> That's...good?
Followed by five floors of silence and a hasty exit by the other person.

Meanwhile in my brain, I've set my imaginary butler Jeeves to spinning the Rolodex.

Maybe THAT'S my problem! I have a cat brain butler! While I'm desperately
trying to make small talk with people I should know, Jeeves is licking his butt
or playing with laser pointers or chasing the crack-addled squirrel!

What I am NOT saying to the nice person on the elevator:

Who's Marsha? Is Marsha the lady who walked by a minute ago who looks familiar and says "hi" to me all the time, or is she someone else? Who *is* the lady who says "hi" all the time anyway, if she isn't Marsha? Do I know her from somewhere, or does she just look familiar because we use the same restroom, or is she just really friendly? Did I work with Marsha and you on some project? Also, who are you? The Rolodex says you're an attorney. Have worked on something together? Why do you know who I am and why do you think I know Marsha?

And then, thankfully, the elevator arrives at the first floor. I still don't know who the attorney is, or Marsha, but I hope she has a nice retirement.

So enjoy your super speedy indexed Contacts app brain, and its marvelous ability to pull up names, birthdates, spouses' names, and the entirety of sixth grade. I'll be over here dangling a fish on a string to get Jeeves to bring me that absolutely brilliant idea I had in that meeting on Friday and forgot to write down.