Oh AI, You Silly Goose
Oh AI, you silly goose.
I just hung up the phone with a client who affectionately refers to her instance of ChatGPT as a friend. “She told me I should do this with video. She is so smart!”
And then there was the other night, when I was out on an evening walk with a friend and we spotted one of those cute little grocery delivery robots zipping through our neighborhood. We couldn’t help but squeal at how adorable it was, humming along with groceries in tow. It might as well have been wearing a baseball cap, whistling a jaunty tune as it made its delivery.
It’s funny how we humanize technology, isn’t it? We’ve come to relate to these machines in ways that are almost affectionate. How can we not, when ChatGPT sometimes offers more compassion than our closest friends?
“That sounds really challenging. Thank you for sharing with me.”
I’ve seen others do it, too—give AI a nickname, a personality, even a gender. Just the other day, when my chat said something completely unexpected, I found myself thinking, “Oh, ChatGPT, you silly goose.”
MIT recently published a thought-provoking (and slightly concerning) article about the possibility of human-AI love. What’s striking is how human this technology has become to us, and, perhaps more intriguingly, how human we’ve become in our responses to it.
However, from a communications perspective, AI can often be off-putting to readers. Instead of finding it endearing, once people realize a post has been generated by AI, trust in the brand or individual behind the content tends to erode.
For instance, I’ve noticed a new trend in storytelling on LinkedIn—what I like to call the “AI-assisted hero’s journey.” You know the type: the narrator faces an immense challenge, learns a profound lesson, and emerges transformed. The moment I sense that AI touched the narrative, the magic fades. I’m not alone in this sentiment—studies have shown that when readers are aware that AI wrote a piece, they find it less credible and less emotionally engaging.
And honestly, there are plenty of telltale signs that give it away—beyond the suspicious overuse of the em dash. Here are a few markers that the friendly robot may have taken the pen:
The “It’s not just X, it’s Y” formula: Example: “It’s not just about hard work—it’s about heart.” (AI’s favorite line.)
Overly cinematic openers: “The sun hadn’t yet risen, but I knew today would change everything.” (Someone’s been watching too many movies.)
The “And that’s when I realized…” moment: Usually followed by a very tidy, easily digestible life lesson.
The crescendo ending: AI loves a good wrap-up. “At the end of the day, it’s not about where you’ve been—it’s about where you’re going.”
AI is nudging us toward a kind of perfectionism. With so few jobs and increasing funding cuts, there’s more pressure than ever to create flawless content. But lately, I’m finding the “there’s no way in hell AI wrote this” pieces far more enjoyable to read.
Take, for example, the singer-songwriter Sam Robbins. After seeing him perform, I immediately subscribed to his newsletter. His next edition was a delightful mix of stream-of-consciousness writing and personal snapshots from life on the road. It was deliciously human.
For time-pressed nonprofits and small businesses, AI might be your only viable option for producing content. Don’t get me wrong—I use AI every day. It’s an incredible tool for brainstorming, editing, and organizing thoughts. But perhaps the true beauty in writing lies in its messiness—the raw, unpolished brain-to-keyboard flow that feels personal and real.
Now tell me—do you think AI helped me write this?