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Ralsina.Me — Roberto Alsina's website

Memory is a strange thing.

At least for me, since I have very lit­tle of it.

To­day I went to a meet­ing with a prospec­tive clien­t, and we were talk­ing with two peo­ple, one guy, ap­par­ent­ly man­ag­er of the com­pa­ny, and a girl, in charge of the se­cu­ri­ty area.

Blah, blah, yes, I teach for peanut­s, no, no, more peanut­s, and so on, then she tells me, she knows me from some­where.

La Pla­ta... CACI­C?

Ok, she had been, in 1996 or 1997, in the au­di­ence for a lec­ture I gave on hi­er­ar­chi­cal prox­y­ing, in a con­gress called CACI­C, in La Pla­ta.

She even re­mem­bered I was at the Uni­ver­si­dad Na­cional del Litoral at the time.

I just re­mem­ber that I did give that lec­ture at that time, and that it did­n't work out very well (I re­did it the pre­vi­ous night be­cause I lost my notes, it was a mess).

How the hell can she re­mem­ber that? I have no idea.


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