Confidentiality is not a setting. It is a question you ask before you paste. Today you learn which one.
No legal text, no vendor names. The mechanism, and the habits that follow from it.
A prompt leaves your screen the moment you press Enter. Five stops, and three questions along the way.
Three of these stops raise a question. Transit does not. Storage and reuse do.
You did not send a question. You sent a name, a figure, and a deadline. Together, they are a deal.
None of the three is answered by the chatbot. All three are answered by the door you came in by.
No hacker in any of them. Five real stories, and the ordinary gesture behind each one.
The most common leak is not an attack. It is Ctrl-V.
Nobody was careless. They were efficient. The code was the fastest way to get the answer. It was also the crown jewels.
Help me prepare a first call with a new retail prospect.
Sure. As with Carrefour, where your cap was 40k, you could open with…
Some tools now keep notes on you, across conversations. Useful. And a second copy of everything you said.
On a shared login, or a family account, those notes are not yours alone. Whoever types next inherits them.
“Share this conversation” made a public page. A small box offered to make it discoverable. Thousands ticked it.
A share link is a web page. Anyone with the link can read it. And sometimes, anyone with a search engine.
People shared a clever prompt with a colleague. The page held the whole conversation. Including the client above it.
A meeting assistant does not know the meeting has ended. It knows the call is still open.
It records, transcribes, summarises, and sends. To the list it was given. The after-meeting chat included.
What is the average salary in the sales team?
Based on salaries_2026.xlsx, the average is…
Connect the assistant to the company drive, and it reads with your permissions. All of them. Including the ones nobody meant to give you.
The folder was open to everyone for years. Nobody looked. The assistant looks at everything, in one second.
What do you remember about me?
A list. Your job, your habits. And, if you ever mentioned one, a client, a figure, a name.
Share this conversation
A link. Anyone with it reads the whole thread, from the first message. Not the one answer you wanted to show.
Two clicks each. Neither one asked you if you were sure.
What it kept about me. And what a share link really shows.
Prepared this morning: a conversation with a made-up client in it. Let us ask the tool what it remembers, then open the share page as a stranger.
Before you paste, while you type, after you have sent. None of them needs permission from anyone.
Same question, no names. Same answer.
The answer does not change. The model needs the structure of your problem, not the name of your client.
Names change with every version. The switches do not.
You cannot see what it kept. So ask it.
The same model sits behind all three. What changes is the contract, and who holds the keys.
Same engine, three cars. The question is never “is this model safe”. It is “which door am I in”.
Do you keep my conversations? Are they used to train you?
“No, I do not store any of your data, and nothing you write is used for training.”
Fluent. Reassuring. And a prediction, not a fact. The model does not know what its vendor does with your words.
The chatbot answers about itself the way it answers about anything: with the most plausible sentence.
Three places know the truth: the settings page, the privacy policy, and the contract your company signed. Only one of them was written for you.
You pressed Enter. The name was in it. Three things to do before lunch, in this order.
Nobody is punished for telling on day one. People are punished for day thirty.
Take
One prompt you sent this week with a real client in it. Rewrite it with the names out.
Bring
Both answers, side by side. And the door you were standing in when you sent the first one.
The eight reflexes fit on one page. It is yours to keep.
Thank you.
Rotate your device to present.