The Case of the Midnight Memo

Rain drummed against the windows of Ella's office, but her mind was elsewhere. She was scrolling through the sleek, modern blueprints for the city's newest library, her first big architectural project.

After months of hard work, late nights, and enough coffee to keep Colombia's economy afloat, it was finally ready. She could already imagine presenting it to the city council the next day, picturing their impressed faces – or at least as impressed as city council members could ever look anyway.

Just as she was packing up for the night, an email notification popped up on her phone screen, like a digital jump-scare in a horror movie.

"URGENT: Please see the customer memo and incorporate these changes ASAP."

The message was from her project manager, Lauren, who had apparently picked the perfect moment to channel her inner last-minute-panic demon. Attached was a memo with tweaks: adjustments to the entrance layout, window spacing changes, and a reconfiguration of study areas – because apparently, the city council had suddenly developed strong opinions about storage room feng shui at 9 PM. She tried calling Lauren to confirm, but her call went straight to voicemail, presumably because Lauren had already entered her nightly witness protection program to avoid such situations.

Figuring she had no time to waste, Ella pulled up her design file and dove in, her mouse cursor moving with the desperate energy of a caffeinated squirrel.

For hours, she adjusted each detail to match the memo, her eyes gradually taking on that distinctive glazed-over look that screamed "I've been staring at a screen so long I can see through time." She was too focused to realize that, in her rush, she was working directly on the original file.

The next morning, Ella walked into the office brimming with excitement. Just as she was about to do a final review, her phone buzzed. Lauren was calling, probably to share some last-minute words of wisdom like "don't trip on your way to the podium."

Lauren's voice came through sounding like she'd just discovered she'd accidentally sent her entire search history to IT. "Ella, I owe you a huge apology. Those changes—they weren't for the library. They were for the community center remodel."

Ella's stomach dropped. "You're kidding, right? I stayed up half the night making those changes..."

"Yes. I'm so, so sorry," Lauren replied.

Ella's face went through all five stages of grief in seconds as the realization hit her, “But… I saved over the original file. Everything I’d done for the library—it’s gone.”

There was a long silence before Lauren responded, her tone shifting from apologetic to alarmed. “Wait, you saved over the original file? Why didn’t you make a copy? What are we gonna do?! The meeting is in an hour!”

Ella’s head was spinning. “It was late, and I was in a rush. I didn’t think that I would ever need the old version!”

Before Lauren could respond, a voice spoke from behind them. Mia, Ella’s colleague, had been listening in, and her expression was calm and collected.

“The good thing is we keep everything on Box” she pointed out.

Ella shook her head. “What difference does it make? I overwrote my original and didn’t save a copy.”

Mia’s lips quirked into a small smile. “Our Box keeps an unlimited version history. We can restore the previous version.”

Ella’s heart lifted as she Mia helped her navigate to her account, and, with a few clicks, pulled up the Version History. A few scrolls later, Mia found the unmodified version from before Ella’s late-night edits. She clicked Make current, and, as if by magic, Ella’s original design reappeared on the screen, untouched.

Ella let out a deep breath, relief washing over her. “How didn't I know this? I almost had a heart attack!”

Mia shrugged, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “Will you be joining us for the next Box training then?”

“Yes and I’ll bring Lauren with me. Looks like she had no idea either”

Disclaimer: For this and other stories, I refer to a real use case we helped our customer solve. Names have been changed to protect privacy. A little bit of dramatic tension and suspense added because fall is the best time for true crime and mysteries.

IMPORTANT: Two weeks left to register for BoxWorks'24 - Content + AI . Limited capacity. Join us on November 12 virtually or in person in San-Francisco!

Want to explore more customer stories and case studies? Visit our Customer Story page.

or

book a meeting with yours truly .