A file on every client, kept current by every meeting.
The family, the career, the health scare, the worry they only said out loud once. Before your next meeting, Aevon hands you the short version: what changed, what’s still open, and what to walk in knowing. And you can ask it anything, about one client or your whole book.
Practice the conversation that matters before you have it.
Thursday, 2 p.m. The Hendersons come in for their quarterly review. Two weeks ago, Joe’s father died.
You haven’t talked to them since the funeral, and you don’t want to open with the portfolio.
So you ask Aevon how to approach it. It answers from the Hendersons’ file: Joe processes out loud, so don’t fill his pauses. The Sunday calls were the anchor of his week. If the Sedona house comes up, it isn’t a logistics question. A short memo on how to have this conversation, before you’ve said a word of it.
Then you practice it. Aevon plays Joe, using what the Hendersons have told you across 23 meetings: his father was a Navy chaplain in Korea, retired to Sedona, called every Sunday. You try your opening line, hear what Joe might say back, and try again.
By the time you walk in, you’ve already had the conversation once. You can listen instead.
Practice by voice or in text. When you stop, Aevon tells you what worked, what to try differently, and one thing to take with you.
The meeting ends. Before you’ve opened your inbox, Aevon shows you, privately, how the conversation went for this client in particular.
It knew you were sitting across from Joe two weeks after his father died, and it reads the meeting you actually had.
Nothing enters the client’s file without you. The notes from the meeting arrive as drafts in the same debrief, and you decide what gets saved.
If something is worth practicing, you can rehearse it right there, with the same client, on the same conversation.