Ever since I sent out a work-related reply that sounded weird (to me, at least—who knows if anyone else in this fast-paced world noticed), years ago, I’ve been convinced that my ability to communicate in corporate speak is impaired due to my having joined the English-speaking workforce too late in life. That’s why, as I slowly warmed to the idea of letting AI help me with certain tasks, I welcomed its ability to write those emails for me.
For a brief while, it was fantastic. I felt competent and compelling in my tone. I handled a crucial negotiation successfully without feeling like my awkward wording would betray my condition as an unseasoned hobbyist posing as an expert.
However, a couple of days ago, I used AI to write an apology email regarding a tech issue that prevented me from doing my job at a crucial moment. Today, one of the recipients sent me a kind standard reply, which prompted me to look at my message once again. I was appalled: it was glaringly obvious that it hadn’t been written by a human.
What use was my brain, I wondered in horror, if I couldn’t write a simple heartfelt message without borrowing crutches from robots? Such a human act, apologizing—and yet here I was, lacking the words for it, delegating it to a cold machine. What a loss for the animal kingdom. What a humiliating defeat for a self-purported blog writer.
I can’t begin to describe how disgusted I am. My mind—my precious mind!—now reduced to a glob of soft cheese left out on a plate. All in the name of convenience and entertainment. It’s embarrassing. This cannot stand.
I’ve been fooling myself thinking that I just didn’t have the skills to write professional messages, when the truth is that I’ve been feeding my brain junk food instead of actually nourishing it. That’s what’s led me so readily into the arms of AI.
I hereby vow to drastically cut back on social media. Reading books means nothing if the rest of my brainpower is wasted invoking nibbles of outrage.