This post was not written by or with ChatGPT
On doing things the long way, the hard way, the human way, with a lot of dread.
Before I launch into my lament of the rise of generative AI, I should confess off the bat that I’ve never used ChatGPT1. I should also confess that I don’t actually even know how to use ChatGPT, meaning I don’t even know where on the Internet to find ChatGPT, or a ChatGPT tool, without the assistance of Google. I’m not at all ashamed to admit this—it just feels like something I should disclose.
Until now, my failure to use ChatGPT hasn’t actually been the result of conscious refusal.2 Refusal would require ChatGPT to be on my radar—for me to be aware of the ways in which a chatbot could streamline a task for me or answer a question, and to then intentionally decline to use it. But in truth, it just never crosses my mind to use ChatGPT, and so it hasn’t become an option. My husband feels similarly and so, at least from a technological perspective, our house exists in the year 2020. The smartest devices in our house are our iPhone SEs.
It can be jarring to spend time in a household that actually exists in 2025 as my daughter and I did this weekend—one where Alexa sets kitchen timers, and where ChatGPT does everything from adjust bread recipes, to make playlists for dinner parties, to assist with communicating through marital spats. Visiting my daughter’s godmother, whose husband embraces these technologies, was a little bit like visiting the future. In addition to the three of us adults and our three children, there was the lurking presence of someone else in the house, a sort of intern to whom tasks were constantly being delegated—if an intern could simultaneously be a research assistant, analyst, house manager, and therapist.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Turtleneck Season to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.