So, another Monday rolls around. Another day closer to the grave, and another shot of whiskey in my coffee. I need it after reading this gem from some suit named Marc Cortés, “Director of the Executive Master in Digital Business” at some place called Esade. Fancy title. Probably never had a real job in his life. He’s peddling this idea that AI isn’t going to steal our jobs, but make us “augmented professionals.” Yeah, right. Like putting a gold star on a turd.
This guy, Cortés, he’s got this matrix, see? Divides human activities into physical and cognitive, then routine and non-routine. First, they mechanized the physical routine stuff. Then, they automated the cognitive routine stuff. Now, he says, AI is coming for the non-routine cognitive tasks. The stuff we thought was safe – creativity, thinking, all that jazz. The kicker? He says it’s a good thing.
He uses this example of designing an innovation course. Asks some poor schmuck with zero knowledge to whip one up using ChatGPT. Of course, the hypothetical rube can do it, but it’ll be garbage, right? Cortés says AI can only be used effectively if you already know what you’re doing. So, basically, if you’re already an expert, AI can make you… a faster expert?
Here’s where it gets funnier. This guy really thinks AI is going to make us “more creative.” Yeah, because nothing screams originality like feeding a bunch of data into a machine and seeing what regurgitated slop it spits out. He says we’ll still need the “human vector” to “explain and validate the results.” So, we’re the janitors, cleaning up after the AI’s mess and making it presentable to the board. Sounds like a real promotion.
He calls these AI-enhanced folks “augmented professionals.” Like we’re getting robot arms or some shit. More like we’re getting digital leashes, tied to machines that are going to tell us how to think, how to work, how to be. And the worst part? They think we’ll be grateful for it.
Look, I’ve seen the future, and it ain’t pretty. I’ve been banging away on keyboards for years, trying to make sense of this digital circus. And the more I see, the more I realize these “augmented professionals” are just the latest iteration of the corporate drone. Except now, instead of a boss breathing down your neck, it’s an algorithm. And trust me, an algorithm doesn’t care if you need another drink or if your kid is sick. It just wants results.
This whole “augmented” thing is a con. It’s about control. They want to turn us into cogs in their machine, but smoother, more efficient cogs. Cogs that don’t complain, don’t strike, don’t ask for a raise. Just cogs that churn out whatever the AI overlords demand.
And for what? So some CEO can buy another yacht? So some venture capitalist can fund another useless app that solves a problem nobody has? It’s all a game, and we’re the pawns. I’ll tell you what’s not a game: my dwindling bottle of bourbon.
They say AI is going to “complement” us. More like “consume” us. It’ll chew us up, spit us out, and then move on to the next victim. And we’ll be left with nothing but a digital echo of what we used to be.
But hey, at least we’ll be efficient, right? We’ll be able to churn out meaningless reports and pointless presentations at lightning speed. We’ll be the ultimate productivity machines, devoid of soul, devoid of passion, devoid of anything that makes us human.
This Cortés guy, he talks about competitive advantage. Yeah, the advantage of being the first one to the unemployment line when the AI decides it can do your job better than you can. The advantage of being a hollow shell, filled with nothing but algorithms and corporate jargon.
I’m not buying it. I’m sticking with my whiskey, my smokes, and my cynicism. At least those are real. At least those are mine. And at least those won’t try to “augment” me into oblivion. I mean, who needs augmentation when you’ve got a full glass and a half-empty pack of cigarettes? That’s the real augmentation, folks. The kind that keeps you sane in this insane world. The kind that reminds you that you’re still human, even if the rest of the world is trying to turn you into a goddamn robot.
So, here’s to the “augmented professionals.” May they enjoy their digital shackles. As for me, I’ll be here, at the bar, watching the world burn, one shot at a time.
Cheers. Or, as they say in the augmented world, “optimize your alcohol intake for maximum performance.” Whatever. Another round, bartender. This one’s for the humans. The real ones. The ones who are still fighting the good fight, even if it’s just by raising a glass to the absurdity of it all. And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough. For now, anyway. I’ll raise a glass to that. And another one. Because why the hell not? The world’s ending, might as well enjoy the ride. Bottoms up, you augmented bastards. Bottoms up.