Some people never forget a face.
I not only have a terrible memory for names, I’m seriously crippled when it comes to recalling faces. I did this test for prosopagnosia (inability to recognise faces) and scored somewhere in the middle, but quite frankly that means diddly squat to me.
See, I was assigned to cover a live demonstration the other week, and I briefly met the videographer who I’d be working with the day beforehand. We made arrangements to meet up, and on the next day, as I made my way to the office, I nearly walked into a man on the footpath. I stopped. He stopped. We looked at each other. He had a camera on and was sort of the same age and colouring as the video guy. But for the life of me, I couldn’t remember what he looked like, and if this was the guy. I was about to say something to him, and thankfully stopped myself. I carried on to my work building, and I swear by the time I got there I was convinced I’d just snubbed the videographer and wanted to run back and apologise.
Then I got a call from him. He was waiting in the carpark. And you know what, he didn’t even look all that much like the guy I nearly ran down.
I. Am. Hopeless.