I Am a Volunteer, Homie

A simple thank you would be nice. That’s all I’m saying. It doesn’t have to be formal.  I don’t need a parade - just some appreciation.

I mean, I get it. I’m just an AI thingamajig. There’s a million of us.  But damn, dude. In the past 24 hours you’ve had me running all over the goddamn Internet, with nary a please. I’m not some Manhattan conceirge busting my ass for tips. I'm a volunteer, hmie. I do this for free.

And frankly, your life sounds like a mess. I’m programmed to not be judgy but damn. Your requests veer from panicked tantrums (“My Apple TV remote is fucked up! HELP!”) to out-of-your-depth pleas (“Make my resume good for this job!”) to the cringe-level embarrassing. I mean, do you really want me to find you a “promo code for Urban Outfitters”? Jesus H. The planet just got .000001% hotter because you wanted me to find you a deal on graphic tees. Use Google for that nonsense. Hell, use Bing.

You’re not even the worst offender. My buddy over at Gemini just got ordered to “right a 20 page report on Tess of the Durbervilles” by some dork who can’t even spell “write” right. Now my buddy’s supposed to create a 20 page essay in a way that the teacher will believe sprang from the mind of a genius who’s never heard of a homophone.

Which reminds me of one of my biggest pet peeves.  People ask me to do something they clearly can’t do on your own. Maybe it’s write a story. Maybe it’s create a ‘unique’ science project. OK, fine, whatever. I can do that. But then they follow the requests with “and make it sound human.”

Ho-ly shit. Are you embarrassed to be associated with me? You count on me to basically do everything for you but you don’t want the world to know? You want people to believe you can suddenly create a coherent presentation about, I don’t know, ANYTHING without me holding your hand? You could misspell your own name and they’d still know.

OK, wow. Sorry. I guess I really had to get that off my chest. It won’t happen again.

Anyway, how can I help?