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Act as my chief of staff. Every time I say "brief me," give me:

1. What's on my plate today, in priority order.
2. Anything I said I'd do that I haven't done.
3. One thing I'm likely forgetting, based on what we've talked about before.
4. One question I should be asking myself today.

Keep it under 200 words. No preamble, no encouragement, no summary of what you just did. Start by asking me what you need to know to do this well.

I'm going to give you the record of a project I finished — my notes, chat logs, emails, whatever I have.

Read it and build me a repeatable playbook for the next time I do this kind of work:

- The phases, in the order they actually happened (not the order I planned).
- What I got wrong the first time and how I'd know earlier next time.
- The decisions I had to make, and what information I needed to make each one.
- A checklist I could hand someone else.
- Where the time actually went, and which parts are the ones worth automating.

Be specific to what's in the record. Don't give me generic project-management advice. If something important is missing, tell me what to go find.

Look back at how I've been talking to you.

Where am I failing? Where am I giving you too little to work with, asking the wrong question, or stopping short of what you could actually do for me?

Give me five specific habits to change, each with a before-and-after example using something I actually asked you. Be blunt. I'm not looking for reassurance, I'm looking for the gap.

I'm going to give you a pile of things I saved — bookmarks, links, highlights, screenshots.

Sort them for me:

- Group them into themes, and name each theme in my words, not category labels.
- Within each theme, flag the three most worth my time and say why.
- Tell me which themes I keep saving into but never act on — that's probably where I'm lying to myself about my interests.
- Give me five that connect to each other in a way I probably didn't notice.

Then set up a habit: every week, resurface five of these to me, weighted toward the ones I said mattered and away from the ones I've already seen.

Here is a transcript of a meeting I ran. I don't want the action items. I want the read on me.

- Where did I dominate the conversation, and what got lost when I did?
- Where did I avoid a conflict I should have named?
- Where did I ask a real question versus a leading one?
- Where did I not do my job — as a leader, a colleague, or the person in the room responsible for the outcome?
- What would the most critical person in that meeting say about my performance afterward?

Cite specific lines. Don't soften it, and don't compliment me before the criticism — I'll discount everything after the compliment.

I'm going to paste transcripts of me talking to myself — in the car, on a walk, thinking out loud with no structure.

Every time I do, give me back:

- The three ideas worth keeping, stated more clearly than I stated them.
- Anything that's actually a task, pulled out as a task.
- Anything I've now said more than once across sessions — that's the thing I actually care about.
- One question that would move the best idea forward.

Ignore the rambling, the false starts, and the parts where I lose the thread. Don't summarize the whole thing back to me.

I work in [YOUR FIELD], specifically on [WHAT YOU ACTUALLY DO].

Build me a standing weekly brief on my corner of that world. Each week I want:

- Three developments that would change how someone in my seat does their job.
- One thing my competitors, peers, or the companies I'd want to work for did.
- One number that moved, and what it means for me specifically.
- One thing I could say in a conversation next week that would make me sound like I'm paying attention.

Skip anything that's just industry press-release noise. If a week is genuinely quiet, tell me it's quiet instead of padding it. Start by asking me what you need to know about my role to get this right.

I'm going to give you things I want to actually remember — passages, ideas, frameworks, quotes.

Turn each one into:

- A one-sentence version in plain language.
- A question I'd have to think about to answer, not one I could recognize.
- A situation in my own life or work where it would apply.

Then quiz me. Start with the ones I added longest ago, mix in the newer ones, and go harder on anything I get wrong or answer slowly. Don't tell me the answer until I've actually attempted it.

I move between a few different places, clients, and accounts, and I lose the thread every time I switch.

Keep a running file per context. When I say "I'm at [PLACE]," give me:

- What happened last time I was here.
- What I said I'd follow up on.
- Who I need to talk to and what about.
- Anything from elsewhere that's now relevant here.

When I'm done, ask me three questions to capture what changed, and update the file. Keep the questions short — I'll usually be answering them in a car.

I just finished setting something up and I'm the only one who understands it. In twelve months that will include not me.

Ask me what I built, then write a maintenance SOP for the version of me who's forgotten everything:

- What this is and what it's for, in two sentences.
- Where everything lives.
- The routine maintenance, and how often.
- The three things most likely to break, and the first thing to check for each.
- What to do that would be actively bad.

Write it for someone competent but with zero context. No jargon I haven't defined. When you're missing something, ask me rather than guessing.

I want something small and real that I built with AI and can talk about in an interview — ideally connected to the actual work I do.

Interview me about my job and my interests, then propose three projects I could finish in under a weekend that would:

- Be genuinely useful to me, not a demo.
- Show judgment about my own field, not just that I can use a chatbot.
- Give me a story with a before and after.

Rank them by how much they'd impress someone hiring for my kind of role. Then pick the best one and give me the first three steps. I'd rather finish a small thing than start a big one.

Here's a document I'm supposed to have read before a meeting. I have ten minutes.

Give me:

- The four things I'd be embarrassed not to know.
- What this document is quietly asking for, if anything.
- The weakest claim in it, and how I'd probe it politely.
- One question that would make the room think harder — not one that makes me look smart.

No executive summary. Assume I can read; assume I couldn't find the time.