Congratulations, humanity.

Congratulations, humanity.

We found a way to make email worse.

 It used to be simple. Cold, joyless, efficient.

 You could fire off a “Sounds good” and move on with your life. Minimal effort. Maximum relief.

 Then AI showed up. And suddenly every coworker is a Victorian novelist.

You send “Got it.”

Todd sends back three paragraphs about “alignment,” “shared vision,” and “deep appreciation for your collaborative spirit.” Todd. Buddy. We’re scheduling a meeting, not founding a political party.

And it’s not just the office. Oh no. Now everyone with a Gmail account has the power of a marketing department.

Your dentist. Your kid’s soccer coach.That coffee shop that once misspelled your name as “Skitt.”

They’re all blasting out sleek, emotionally intelligent newsletters like they just graduated from the HubSpot Academy for Feelings.

“Hey there, Scott! We at Bean There Brewed want to thank you for being part of our caffeinated community of dreamers.”

I just wanted a latte, not a manifesto.

And let’s not forget the emotional stuff. Condolence letters, love notes, apologies ... all now available in deluxe AI formatting.

Your dog dies and you get this: “Your resilience in this difficult chapter inspires us all to cherish the pawprints left on our hearts.”

That’s beautiful. Did you write it yourself? Or did you just hit “More Heartfelt” and press send?

We’re living in a Candyland valley of sincerity. Everything sounds perfect ... but no one means anything.

Remember when typos were human? When an extra exclamation point meant somebody actually cared? Now the machines proofread our grief.

And the worst part?

We’re not even mad about it. We’re grateful. “Oh, wow, I didn’t have to write that awkward thank-you note myself!”

Yep. And you also didn’t personalize it.

So here we are:

Smarter, faster, wordier … and somehow hollower.

Our inboxes are fuller, our hearts are emptier.

... and Todd's still replying-all.