David McElroy

If you’re worried about artificial intelligence taking your job, maybe you’re doing a job that humans don’t really need to be doing.

AI software is great at a lot of things that humans don’t do very well or don’t do very efficiently. It can also save humans a lot of time by doing things we would rather not do.

For instance, I have ChatGPT proof my writing for typos and other style errors. It often saves me from looking foolish with careless mistakes, but it sometimes makes suggestions that are laughably ridiculous.

You see, software has no idea what I’m trying to achieve, with my life or my writing. Software has no ideas of its own. Software has no judgment. Software has no taste.

What’s more, the software knows this. It has “read” dozens of my essays, so it has come to see patterns in what I write. It’s smart enough to recognize that, but that doesn’t mean it could do the same on its own.

I asked ChatGPT what difference a reader would notice between one of my essays and an essay that it might write. Here’s the response:

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I started my life full of hope. I believed people were good and that my future was bright.

The world was some sort of ideal and rational place, at least in my mind. I learned to believe — in a way that isn’t clear to me anymore — that intelligence and hard work were always rewarded. I believed most other people were decent and well-meaning. They shared my values.

Somewhere along the way, I absorbed an unspoken promise about life.

If I was intelligent enough and worked hard enough and developed whatever gifts I had, there would be a place for me. The world would value what I had to offer. I would find people who shared my values. I would love and be loved.

I would find where I belonged. Nobody ever stated the promise quite that way. But I believed it.

Living an adult life is nothing like what my childhood led me to expect.

I’ve discovered that high intelligence is often a handicap, not a ticket to success. Shallow hearts and dishonest actions are often rewarded instead. Most of all, I’ve come to see that most people don’t share my values. They’re not much like me.

I see us as a shallow and unhappy culture which has focused so much on material advancement that we’ve overlooked the spiritual and emotional elements which are ultimately more important.

And I have become bitterly disappointed about all of this.

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The company next door to my office moved last week, so I had to say goodbye to some people I’ve gotten to know pretty well.

When I arrived back at the office late in the day last Friday, I stopped to see how their move was going. Laura was the only one left in the office and she was loading her car with the last things from her desk. She was exhausted and she stopped to chat. Then I told her something I hadn’t planned to say.

“I’m going to miss you,” I told her. “Of all the people who’ve worked here over the years, you’ve been my favorite. This might sound strange, but it’s because you’re a really good person. I just want you to know that I can tell that about you.”

She was flattered and happy. She thanked me for telling her. The rest of our conversation just confirmed what I already thought about her. I walked away feeling glad that I had admitted what I’d seen in her.

I’ve been thinking about that conversation ever since then. What about Laura struck me strongly enough that I felt like telling her that I saw her as a “good person”? I wasn’t sure at first. But then it hit me.

It’s not that she’s perfect. She’s a pretty ordinary person. It’s simply that standards of morality, ethics and decency have fallen so far that a “good person” really stands out by comparison.

And that’s alarming to me.

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