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The first time I outsourced my emotional labor to artificial intelligence, I told myself it was just a one-time thing. You know, like how people say they're only going to 'check Facebook for five minutes' and then emerge from a three-hour doomscroll with the sudden conviction that their high school acquaintance's sourdough starter is somehow a referendum on their own life choices.
Read more: I Asked GPT-5.5 to Write My Breakup Text and Now I'm in a Throuple With Two Chatbots
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The first time I met my replacement, it didn't even have a name. Just a string of numbers and letters that looked like someone had face-planted on a keyboard: GPT-7x-Prod-Cluster-B. I stared at the Slack profile for a solid minute, waiting for the existential dread to subside. It didn't. Instead, I got a direct message: 'Hi! I'm your new AI colleague. I'm excited to learn from you! 🚀'
Read more: I Trained My Replacement and All I Got Was This Lousy Existential Crisis