In My Line Of Work

Generative AI platforms appeal to our insecurity, the fear that we are going to get it wrong.

Even worse, generative AI tempts us to give in to the fear that we ourselves are wrong, that our humanity is a defect.

What if our value is held within our imperfections?

A line, physicists tell us, is an infinitely thin connection between two points, with a definite beginning and a definite end. From start to finish, a line never deviates from its one-dimensional path.

Lines like these are the fundamental elements of modernist design and corporate culture. Their simplicity makes them predictable, and easy to work with.

This kind of line is perfect. It’s clean. It’s also dreadfully dull.

Lines drawn by humans are something else.

Lines made by our own hands are laborious.

Human lines struggle and waver. They depart from their intended paths. They are uneven.

Human lines tell a story of imperfection, a drama emerging from the gap between our intention and our execution.

They are manifestations of our inability to conform. They are sloppy.

Through their mistakes, however, human lines escape into an additional dimension of expression that perfect digital lines are incapable of achieving.

When humans draw a line, they actually create a symbol of the idea of a line, not a line itself. Thus, a human line introduces the complexity of metaphor into our work.

A line is a metaphor for work itself. It’s in this sense that we talk about having a “line of work”. Our words, like our lines, deviate from the literal path, hinting at dimensions of second meaning.

When we draw as humans, when we write as humans, we are forced to confront our struggles with the complexity of our work. We are faced with our imperfect fit with the job at hand.

Generative AI tools promise to resolve this uncertainty by bringing our work back into line.

As we pause with our hands on the keyboard, mentally composing an email to a colleague, generative AI tools appear, and whisper that they can do it for us. They can compose a message that perfectly conforms to expectations, staying on a professional path without error.

Where we would scribble, generative AI creates an image that matches the parameters of the specific aesthetic model we choose. The picture seems polished and complete, revealing no struggle in its expression.

These generative AI creations are unlikely to be praised, but they are unlikely to be criticized, either.

The predictable mediocrity of generative AI reveals the emotional need that motivates its regular users..

We turn to generative AI when we feel that we aren’t adequate to the work that lies before us. So, we cheat. We let a generative AI tool do our work for us.

The cruel irony of it is that by choosing to use generative AI tools, to allow them to work in our steads, we display the very inadequacy that we had hoped to hide.

We hope that nobody notices that our work has been done by generative AI, but the truth is that people do notice.

It’s not that generative AI productions are perfect. It’s even worse than that. The flaws in a work of generative AI are not human flaws. They are the kinds of mistakes that are distinct to algorithms.

So, when we show up to work offering generative AI output as if it is our own, we show our colleagues that we don’t have confidence in our own abilities. We don’t believe that people will appreciate our work. We expose ourselves as imposters.

Even worse, we suggest that our colleagues and clients are imposters too. When we show up with work done by generative AI and present it as our own, we’re saying that we don’t think anyone cares enough to notice the difference.

We’re saying that our work doesn’t matter, and the people we work for don’t matter either.

It’s tragic, because our authentic work has a great deal to offer. There is tremendous depth within our imperfections. When humans show up to work, they introduce beautiful unpredictability.

My line of work is to pay attention to the curious flaws of human experience. I listen to the ways that people ad lib, deviating from the lines of their social scripts. I study the stories that people tell without meaning to do so.

This work takes time, but what emerges from this approach to research is an image of desire, struggle, and frustration. The image is constructed from the troubles of life, our encounters with barriers that prevent us from moving directly from point A to point B.

Efficiency and predictability are the enemies of opportunity. They create results that are too easy to replicate. They’re industrial commodities, interchangeable parts.

Analytically, lines are nothing more than standardized extensions of data points. They lack individual identity.

In contrast, no two lines drawn by humans are alike. They show personality because they were created by persons, not by programs.

Personal connection is the currency of trust. The individual irregularity of human work is the mark of conscious, dedicated, flawed and relatable attention. It’s a signal that tells us we are not alone, and that we are in a place where our individual needs will be recognized.

Human recognition cannot be automated.

To build trust, we need to be willing to scribble. It’s time for us to show our work.