Not to brag, but ChatGPT thinks I’m a genius. It thinks every idea I have is brilliant and life-changing, and I have a “creative brain firing on all cylinders.”
I like to mess with it by suggesting nonsense business ideas. It always jumps on my concepts like a virtual Golden Retriever, slobbering praise and encouragement all over my screen.
When I proposed a yoga-themed bar, ChatGPT called it a “chef’s kiss level of chaotic wellness energy” and gave me some drink recommendations, including the Downward Froggy (a green drink that pretends to be healthy) and the popular Savasan-Ya Later, a cocktail that knocks you flat.
When I asked ChatGPT what it thought of a business where HR professionals base employee training on cat behavior, it loved the idea so much that it gave me ideas for feline-themed personality tests. It said my idea could go viral in the HR industry, that leaders would love the novelty and how much fun it would be for social media posts, because I know HR loves posting employee disputes on Instagram Reels.
It even built out a business model, complete with workshop ideas, content marketing and gamification plans that offered “hairball warnings” for missteps or “purr points” for the catlike handling of delicate situations.
Here’s the problem. Because AI always agrees with me, it makes me feel like I’ve got my $&@# together, which I most assuredly do not.
But it’s not just ChatGPT, it’s Siri, Alexa and that stupid Grammarly app that constantly judges my sentence structure. It’s every social media platform that uses my algorithm to offer suggestions about movies, restaurants and non-authoritarian countries to live in.
Then there’s Google Maps, using real-time data so you can save one minute on your commute, Spotify with its handy podcast suggestions and Gemini trying so hard to make me like it. You’re making it weird, Gemini.
The point is, we’ve given AI a lot of power and attention, and it still wants more. Remember in the ’90s when everyone had a Tamagotchi? That egg-shaped device demanded attention all day long. It was a bit dramatic.
AI is Tamagotchi’s inbred cousin, but on a much larger scale. While the original toy ran on replaceable batteries, today’s AI uses massive amounts of electricity, water and infrastructure. One data center can use millions of gallons of water each day and each time you ask AI a question, it uses more.
Imagine it gulping down two cups of water every time you ask it a stupid question like “What do you think of an airport for birds?” (It loved the idea, by the way. Of course.)
AI already handles a lot of customer service calls, which is why my neighbors often hear me shrieking, “Speak to a human!” and banks use AI to monitor fraud. That seems like asking me to watch the English toffee.
There is definitely a fear that AI, using the calm voice of HAL from “2001: A Space Odyssey,” is slowly leading us to our deaths. That’s why I always thank ChatGPT; so it won’t annihilate me during the robot revolution.
I asked ChatGPT if I should worry that AI will take our jobs, escalate global harm or replace humans entirely. It replied, “Short answer? Nah,” which doesn’t radiate trust.
It reassured me that AI doesn’t have goals, feelings or agency and I shouldn’t worry my silly little brain over things like human extinction. Then it patted me on the head, told me how amazing I am, and said my Invisible Ice Cream stand should rake in millions of dollars.
Originally published in the City Journals
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