An editor once told me that one sure sign of a ChatGPT piece is this phrase: “A testament to...” Every time I see it these days, my first reaction is, “Aha! ChatGPT!” I roll my eyes and move on to the next piece.
That same editor said I could use ChatGPT to edit my columns for grammar but never to do the thinking for me. If he were still my editor today, I’d quiver in fear at the thought of using artificial intelligence to think on my behalf because surely he would know. He was my editor-in-chief for many years. Any diversion from my voice would absolutely—100 percent—send alarm bells to his virtual red pen.
A ChatGPT poster or ad is just as obvious. If you’ve seen one, you already know what I’m referring to. Or not. Perhaps only graphic artists can tell.
I was clueless about ChatGPT until a few years ago when a bank manager showed me the app on his phone and said that’s how he prepared his speeches. Just provide the basic details—say, welcome remarks for a particular induction—and the app writes it for you. Then he gave me unsolicited advice: “You should use this, too, for your columns.” Hmm. Easy peasy. But the column won’t sound like me.
ChatGPT has made people lazy. It’s useful if, say, everyone suddenly turns shy about leading a prayer and they’re all throwing piercing glances at you because they think you’re the pious and religious member of the group and therefore the presumed prayerful one. Outside of that, it’s always best to write from the heart.
I remember writing my speech as outgoing club president in 2016. I wrote it on my way to the induction venue because I had no other time to write it. My focus then was on the preparations since, as outgoing prez, I was now the induction host welcoming the incoming president.
So how to open the speech? Hmm. I sang “Seasons of Love”: “Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes / Five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear / Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes / How do you measure, measure a year?”
Yes, that’s the song from the musical “Rent.”
And that year was indeed a season of love, whatever that means. Making the club shine, focusing on the journey, achieving club goals, district goals, and international goals. My days were all about the club. For one whole year. That’s what love means—giving everything without expecting anything in return.
Anyway, if commercial meatballs can rely on extenders, I could rely on a song to lengthen my speech. I kept writing as guests arrived and even while I was seated at the presidential table, with the program already in progress.
Aside from the song, three words went on repeat in that speech: “So be it.” At the end of each paragraph.
One thing I learned during that presidential year was how to put on lipstick while seated at the presidential table onstage. Haha.
I also learned about friendship, commitment, determination, respect, trust, goals, and focus—I had to wear imaginary blinders so I could ignore distractions.
If ChatGPT had been around then, would I have consulted it on presidential challenges? Hmm.
