AI can make you prolific

 

With AI, your company can product an unlimited supply of content.

Twelve blog posts before breakfast, 47 social posts by lunch, and an AI-generated image of a middle-aged guy in a tie pointing at a graph while a small purposefully diverse group else nods approvingly.

The machines will keep producing and we’ll keep publishing. But people will still have the same old brains … we’ll scroll past most of it.

In terms of content consumption, humans have never been particularly attracted by volume. We notice what feels familiar, useful, surprising, or unmistakably “someone”.

Yes, AI is making the act of producing something remarkably easy. But it hasn’t made the act of being remembered any easier.

In fact, it may have made it harder. When everyone can produce polished writing, beautiful images, clever campaigns, and reasonably convincing thought leadership, “good” starts becoming the wallpaper of the internet.

Competence stops being distinctive when everyone is competent.

So it’s time to stop asking “How much content can we make?” and ask “Could someone recognize our content if appeared without our logo?

Maybe it’s a phrase. A visual style. A peculiar way of looking at the world. An observation about customers that sounds so obvious afterward you wonder why nobody said it before. Something with fingerprints.

Yes, AI can make you prolific … but prolific is not the same as memorable.

And I’d rather be the thing someone remembers tomorrow than the thing an algorithm produced a couple of dozen times while you were sipping your morning coffee.

CAPTCHA

I was asked to select the boxes with traffic lights to prove I wasn’t a bot.

I’ve done it hundreds if not thousands of times, but this time I thought: "If AI is so smart, why can't it solve a simple CAPTCHA?" 

We writers are a curious lot, and a minimal amount of research unveiled that the traffic lights aren't really the test.

It seems that modern CAPTCHAs don't care much whether you can spot a traffic light. They care whether you behave like a human while doing it. How you move the mouse. How long you hesitate. Whether you click with just enough uncertainty. It's less an eye exam than a vibe check.

So, while AI can often recognize the images with no problem, it isn't built to impersonate a person navigating a website. The pictures are mostly stage props.

The CAPTCHA is like a nightclub bouncer who isn't checking your ID anymore. He's watching how naturally you reach for your wallet.

The fact that AI struggles with a CAPTCHA, doesn't tell me much about AI. It does, however, indicate we're redefining intelligence: more than Can you solve the problem? but also Can you look enough like your average human while solving it?

Unquestionably, AI will move past this and eventually we'll have a new hoop to jump through to say, "I'm human. No really, I am."

_________________________

CAPTCHA rejected this suggested update:

I quit.

I helped a friend draft a letter of resignation. 

It's exactly what they want to say, but I'm guessing they'll do some major editing before submitting it. In fact, they're probably only gonna use the first line.

Dear [Boss],

I’m resigning from my position, effective [date].

If this comes as a surprise, it says more about the state of leadership here than I know how to explain politely.

I'm leaving because I care enough about the rest of my life to stop donating it to a workplace that has mistaken endurance for engagement.

I want to spend my time doing things that don't require a twelve-person meeting to determine whether an email should be sent. I want to work somewhere that understands that “urgent” is supposed to be an occasional adjective, not a permanent operating system. I want to be around people who understand that creativity needs oxygen, that good ideas rarely emerge from exhausted people staring at dashboards, and that human beings are not software licenses that can simply be reassigned when someone leaves.

Most importantly, I want to remember what it feels like to finish a day without mentally drafting my resignation letter.

For years you’ve told me I’m a “team player,” which I eventually learned means I’m willing to do the work of three people while being thanked for my “flexibility.” If you could’ve, you would’ve rated me “exceeds” on “exploitability” … you love the way I absorb disfunction quietly.  In my last review, you asked, “What do I think I’ve improved on this past year?” My answer: “My ability to pivot in dynamic situations.” I worded that carefully to avoid saying: “My ability to survive the absolute chaotic clusterfuck of your creation.”

I’ve pivoted, adapted, collaborated, reprioritized, embraced ambiguity, and demonstrated resilience. Although these were presented as professional development opportunities, they were just increasingly creative ways of saying, “We’re intentionally not staffing properly and exploiting the current team, expecting them to suck it up and grin and bear it.”

This organization has dashboards, metrics, performance frameworks, strategic priorities, and enough corporate vocabulary to launch a satellite, yet somehow remains unable to identify the obvious: people eventually stop tolerating being overworked, under-resourced, and undervalued.

I’ve raised concerns. I’ve adapted. I’ve solved problems I didn’t create. I’ve cleaned up messes I didn’t make. And every time I did, the system learned the same lesson: [First Name] can handle it. Well, now I’m going to stop handling it. I'm done. This organization is just not my cup of tea (I don’t take my tea with large chunks of shit in it).

So “Goodbye, Boss” and congratulations to you: You get to graduate from “boss” to “some asshole I used to work for.”

Respectfully,

[First Name]

_________________________

If you see a resignation in your future, feel free to use this to leave your position with flare.

When Autumn Falls

I'll Be Ready When Autumn Falls
(with apologies to Ogden Nash)

I do not fear the chilly call of autumn.

Sweaters, rakes, and scarves? I’ve bought ‘em.

The leaves may plummet, orange and gold,

I'll meet them bundled against the cold.

Though frankly, if I'm being candid,

My readiness is mostly branded:

Cause if summer ends with a stormy sky,

I’ll be inside with hot cider and pumpkin pie.