Every teammate has their own cami. She knows their board, their hours, their timezone, and the way they like to be talked to — and she is the only one who speaks in their chat.
“Ask Kenji if the budget line is approved yet.”
“Sofia asked me to check — is the budget line approved yet? She thinks it ties to the Q3 card you’re holding.”
Sofia’s cami never speaks in Kenji’s chat. She hands the errand to Kenji’s own cami, who thinks about it — with his cards and his history in hand — and says it in her own words, in his language, at an hour that suits Tokyo. His answer comes back the same way.
“I’ll send the deck” and “Maya, can you share the link?” both become drafts she offers you — never cards she files behind your back.
Urgency and importancy are your decision. So is how loudly a request goes out — she asks, every time, because it is about whose attention gets spent.
A group nobody configured is never spoken to. Most moments do not want to hear from her, and she knows it.
Every hour she quotes is yours: “tomorrow” and “Friday” resolve in the timezone of the person who said them, because this is built for teams spread across countries.
