The Bottom of The Murky Pond

In the last issue, I criticised the growing presence of AI in creative industries and vented my concerns about how it may impact my career as a writer. This article is basically a sequel to that one, and going into it you and I will effectively have what is archaically referred to as a ‘gentleman’s agreement’. I’m going to reveal the face of capitalist realism to you, and you’re not going to tell my boss that it’s him.

I work as a copywriter for a well-known international keynote speaker, self-described futurist and trendwatcher. Now, now, hold your horses—there’s quite a lot of money in this racket, it seems. He’s the guy who shows up at your annual work summit and tries to inflict you with a sense of ‘inspiration’ about... well, whatever industry-relevant pablum he can riff on. I helped fix his PowerPoint on the future of camping last week. Biometric tents. Robot groundskeepers. The final page was blank white, and asked the audience a momentous question: “are you feeling inspirired?” There’s a lot of clean-up in this job.

Yes, my guy is hopeless — he hangs up on himself in the majority of video calls he participates in. Nevertheless, he is the guy your company pays to show up and staple a grin to your face about things like automation or workplace surveillance. Me, I’m the one who makes the staples. Thanks, I hate my job too.

Every so often, he becomes overcome with excitement about a new thing he has discovered in an article. This would be charming—childlike, even—if he didn’t endeavour to jam these new things sideways down our throats. In most cases, he will give up and move on, quietly ceding defeat and hoping you will forget. Not last week.

he finds his words: he has just discovered generative AI and expects us to double our workload by using it. Several days later, we have the inevitable meeting. My guy kicks it off with a lengthy and oblivious free-

As the only staff member who has, thus far, attempted to use it for our content, I ask to share my screen. Voicing my concerns, I drag my pointer across numerous fake statistics the app cited, and which I had to spend an excessive length of time trying to source. He butts in. For a moment, we got to peer behind the veneer and listen to my boss crudely chide me that my enthusiasm for change was lacking. The new double-workload is here to stay. No further questions. Get to work.