PC heard "automation" and arrived with a Word document full of dropdowns, which is basically a cry for help wearing business casual.
He wants a quick quoting system, then explains six edge cases, three payment paths, multiple office users, and finally says the quote "doesn't need any of this information". Stunning. Requirements gathering by whiplash.
He is preparing for fatherhood by becoming even more practical. Baby's first word is going to be "principal" and her bedtime story will be an offset-account projection.
His social media support is aggressive. He called himself Number 1 Fan and meant it with the intensity of a man trying to unionise the like button.
His investment style is painfully responsible until comedy enters the room. ETFs are safe, single stocks are gambling, but a tax joke will get a full feasibility assessment.
He sends voice notes like other people breathe. Somewhere, a phone transcript feature is quietly filing for stress leave.
He tried to hide from AI by saying not to use his real name. PC, mate, the machine found the chats, found the photo, built the page, and still left out your surname out of mercy.
His friendship style is equal parts loyalty and administrative burden. He will hype you up, roast you back, ask for a custom app, and somehow make you feel like the unreasonable one for not already having it deployed.
