The Successor Test

Moving professional work into a company ChatGPT workspace looks like a migration. The harder question is whether anything arrives that outlives the person who put it there.

The Successor Test

I spent an afternoon moving my professional work out of a personal ChatGPT account into a company workspace. Durable context, active projects, the writing that sits alongside the consulting. By the end it looked like a clean migration.

Then a question surfaced that I have not been able to put down. Had I moved company knowledge into the company, or had I moved my own assistant into an account the company happens to control?

What accumulates

The question only became visible because the individual difference between ChatGPT Plus and Business has narrowed. Memory, projects, connectors, cross-chat context. The two environments are now close to interchangeable. The governance line is real and worth respecting, but it is a line about where the activity happens, not about what accumulates.

And accumulation is the thing that now has become valuable. Not the model. The corrections, the recurring terminology, the preferences I no longer have to restate, the connections between one project and another. Work that used to require explaining myself now starts three steps in.

That accumulation makes me more effective. My company benefits from a more effective me. It does not follow that my company has learned anything.

That is the distinction I had been missing. The system can make my work faster and become unusually well adapted to me without making any of that adaptation useful to the person who comes after me. Individual effectiveness and organisational memory are not the same thing.

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The successor test
If a person leaves tomorrow, can the organisation still use what was learned through their work?

If the answer is no, the person became more capable. The organisation did not.

Retrieval got cheap

Google Workspace is the comparison I keep returning to, and the reason matters.

A document in a shared drive survives its author. Someone leaves, the file stays, and whoever comes next can open it. The standard objection is that nobody ever does. Folders untouched for four years, three versions of the same policy, a naming convention abandoned halfway through.

That objection was correct for as long as retrieval was expensive. Finding the right document among forty thousand was harder than asking a colleague or redoing the work, so people asked, or redid it, and the drive filled up with material that was present and unreachable. The volume was the problem.

That changed recently enough that most organisations still run on the old instinct. Point a model at the same forty thousand files and the volume stops being a liability. It becomes a corpus. The messy half-finished document that nobody would have found is now something a question can reach.

Which turns the old advice around. There is a Dutch expression, wie schrijft, die blijft. Whoever writes, remains. It used to be a reminder to keep minutes so your version of events survived the meeting. It now reads more literally. Write it down and it stays reachable. Leave it in your head, or in a chat window only you can open, and it goes when you do.

Almost anything beats nothing. Bad documentation is a real cost, and outdated documentation is worse than none at all, because a model will retrieve a superseded policy with the same confidence it retrieves a current one. A human digging through a folder applies suspicion. Retrieval does not. So the guideline needs a condition attached: write it down, and mark when it stopped being true.

With that condition, the successor test gets easier to pass, not harder. When the bookkeeper leaves I can reconstruct how the quarterly filing was handled, and I no longer have to know where to look.

ChatGPT Business does not pass that test at all. The company owns the workspace, the seats and the tooling. What the system has learned about how the work is actually done sits inside a relationship between one employee and a model, and when the employee goes, so does the relationship. There is no folder to point anything at.

Handover stops at the mailbox

I am not going to design the thing that fixes this. But we already have a word for it, and it is not a new one.

When someone leaves a company, they are asked to do a handover. Not a monitoring exercise. A recognised, slightly tedious task in the last two weeks, where the departing person makes their work transferable: where the files are, which client hates being called on Fridays, what was tried in 2023 and why it failed. Nobody thinks this is surveillance. Everyone accepts it as part of leaving.

Handover already covers the mailbox, the shared drive, the CRM, the running projects. It does not cover the account where a meaningful share of the thinking now happens.

That is the gap. Not a missing governance layer. A missing convention, whose analogue in every other work system is boring and settled.

It also answers the privacy problem. A handover is performed by the person leaving. They decide what is worth passing on, which means they also decide what stays private, and the company gets the output rather than the archive. The half-formed questions evaporate. That is not in tension with writing everything down, and it is not in tension with deliberate deletion either. You throw away the conversation precisely because you have taken out of it the part worth keeping.

The awkward version is the one that makes it interesting. Handover assumes a cooperative departure. People are also dismissed, and people also die. Companies already take possession of the work mailbox in those situations without much debate, because everyone accepts that the mail was the company's work. Whether the same holds for what a model has learned about how someone worked is a question nobody has had to answer yet. It is coming.

The old version of this problem had a shape. Someone knew something useful, and the work was getting it out of their head and into a format a system could hold. I have watched that problem wear different names for thirty years. Content. Information architecture. Knowledge management. Intranets, wikis, enterprise search, SharePoint in all its configurations.

What is new is that the head is no longer the only place the knowledge sits. Some of it now sits in a system, in a form that is already structured, already summarised, already close to transferable. That is a better starting position than any previous generation of this problem had.

For now, the handover remains manual. Someone leaving still has to look back across the work and decide what another person will need.

Perhaps that is not merely a limitation of the current tools. A company should be able to keep what it has learned without automatically keeping everything an employee said while learning it.

The successor test turns out to have two parts: what should survive, and who gets to decide.

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Rob Hoeijmakers

Thanks for reading.

I’m Rob Hoeijmakers, a digital and AI strategist based in the Netherlands. I write about AI, organisations and technological change, with a European perspective and a focus on what these developments mean in practice. I’m also the founder of Schmuki, a digital and AI agency.

Every Thursday, I gather the latest essay — or a few of them — into a short note. If that’s useful, you’re welcome to receive it.