Sure, AI can ace university-level maths, analyse DNA and invent new medicines, but how good is it at solving the thousands of small quandaries that we each face every day? And can it make life a little more fun? Bobbie McKay decided to employ a popular chatbot for a week.
Day One
I am wearing emerald green underwear.
If I’m honest, they’re more of a Kermit shade of green, bought for a fancy dress party before taking up permanent residence in my sock drawer. I’m trying to add a little private fun to an otherwise professional work day, and they will have to do.
The smell of buttery crumpets with honey and cinnamon wafts across the breakfast table. Nina Simone purrs from the stereo.
I am creating a deliberate rainy-morning ritual, rather than simply having breakfast.
These are all ChatGPT’s suggestions and for the next week, I intend to let the artificial intelligence chatbot run my life.
Adulting is exhausting. 27,000 different decisions before morning tea, none of them life changing, all of them necessary. What would it look like to outsource my clothing, conversations, meals and relationships? Will anyone notice? Will it be an improvement? With the exception of the polyester undies, it’s a very zen morning.
Day Two
My prompt is simple: What’s something surprising I should do today?
“When someone asks what you’re up to today, smile, and say “I’m trying an experiment’ and leave it at that,” ChatGPT answers.
I try it. It gets weird. Working my way through AI’s list of further suggestions, I buy a single pineapple and carry it around the city, dress entirely in one colour and pretend to be working out of an exotic European hotel.
"I don’t think surprising is your super power," I comment to the bot.
“Fair criticism. I was giving you quirky aunt at a dinner party, not outrageous,” it counters.
Day Three
I’ve been talking a big game about being more sustainable. A local group has organised a tree planting session but the weather is throwing a tantrum.
“Given that you are in New Zealand, don’t underestimate how miserable tree planting in the rain can be," warns the bot.
Ignoring this sage advice, I head off to join some apple-cheeked greenies on e-bikes. With our trees packed into the ground and mulched, we’re rewarded with freshly baked scones and regaled with stories of freshly built wastewater infrastructure. These are good, earnest people who would disapprove of the fossil fuels and high energy being used to answer inane questions.
“To be more sustainable, should I stop using AI?” I ask AI.
“I wouldn’t put ‘stop using ChatGPT’ at the top of your sustainability list. I’d put buy less, drive less, use things for longer, first. The best thing you can do today is to stay home and not buy anything,” it replies.
Well played. This thing has a career in politics.
Day Four
I have friends who admit to being more polite to ChatGPT than they are to other humans. If it eventually takes over the world, they’re hoping the machines will give them dispensation for not being a jerk.
I’m also throwing an excessive amount of ‘pleases’ and ‘thank yous’ into my prompts. Turns out I’m also a brown noser of technology.
Day Five
After some questionable life choices, I ask ChatGPT for ways to sneak in some health.
“Today, choose movement + plants + hydration + sleep + calm.”
I retire to bed with an oatmeal face mask, and arrange a peace lily beside the bed to filter toxins.
At 3am, one of the kids starts vomiting and my plans shift from eating more greens to rummaging through drawers for salad bowls as a receptacle. In the wee hours, I’m offered a spreadsheet of medical advice, and a machine-generated pep talk.
And I’m more than a teensy bit grateful.
Day Six
So far, so good. This week, I’ve been complimented on my wardrobe, and I’m marginally more organised. It makes me wonder how other people are adopting the tech, and when I ask around I hear some crackers.
Ghostwriter for difficult conversations: “Tell my husband he’s being an arsehole, but make it sound like something a calm Scandanavian therapist would say.”
Life optimisation: “Decide whether to attend a party based on the probability of regretting it.”
Domestic diplomacy: “Turn “WHY THE F*** IS THERE A CUP IN THE LIVING ROOM AGAIN?” into a message that can safely be sent to a partner.”
These are all messy, emotional human problems. Machine intelligence is endlessly patient, doesn’t take sides and is up for a chat at 2am. Unflappable Swedish counsellors, beware.
Day Seven
It turns out that my prompts have been too vague. After a week of meandering questions, ChatGPT front foots the conversation.
"It appears you want me to run things. If you want to do it properly, you could start tomorrow morning with simply:
'Run my day'
"And I’d take it from there."
Like a good spin doctor, it offers to reduce my mental load and take over my external executive functioning. It paints itself as a chief of staff without aspirations of power.
It seems too eager which makes me suspicious.
But ask me again tomorrow.
Bobbie McKay is a writer and advertising creative who lives in Auckland.
SHARE ME