I’ve Seen The Future And Eek

The Feed, whose motto is “Food for Athletes”, is a newish, trendy, growing biz where more and more endurance sports kids are getting their fuel.

And if there’s any chance I might be a wee bit cool by association, I’m going to conform. So today, I received a text message from The Feed saying my most recent order of carbohydrate drink mix, energy gels, and engery chews had arrived.

Lo and behold, when I opened the front door, the big ass box looked like it had been chewed completely open by a colony of beavers. Even worser, the smaller box of 30 gels was also opened. And somehow three of the large gels had opened and were all over everything in the box. Resulting in one very large, very gooey mess.

Somewhere, there’s a colony of beavers absolutely ready to rip some trees apart and drag them into a stream. Right now, everything I ordered is in the kitchen sink waiting to be rinsed and dried.

No, this is not remotely equivalent to the challenges you’re dealing with today. I’m not seeking sympathy for what is ultimately an inconvenience. This is a story about the future having arrived too soon. Or more specifically, about how shit early AI customer service is.

I emailed The Feed. Told them what happened. Shared the pics for emphasis. Asked for a new box of gels. Seemed reasonable.

A minute later, “Matt-bot” replied:

The P.S. says Matt-Bot is better than a real live human being 87% of the time. LOL. The response I received falls squarely in the 13%. When they write that Matt-Bot is “designed for quick, complete resolutions” what they mean is we can employ far fewer people, lower our overhead, and increase profit margins for our shareholders’ benefit. At least in theory.

My fave part of the reply is the braindead closing, “Keep pushing”. Brah, all I was looking for was a run of the mill, “Very sorry for the inconvenience.” Well, and maybe a, “We’re committed to making it right. . .”

I switched from emailing an AI bot that strangely uses personal pronouns to emailing a human being. I wrote, “Really disappointing impersonal reply to my email and pictures about the gels arriving opened and getting over all the contents of the torn/opened big box.”

I have not heard back yet. Which is okay because I’d much rather have a slow, but thoughtful human reply than one from an uber-fast, weirdly impersonal AI customer service bot. I’m afraid, that in relatively short order, more deliberate, thoughtful, and humane responses may be a thing of the past.

Makeda For The Win

Don’t tell anyone that Makeda was one of my favorite students in my Fall 2024 First Year Writing Seminar.

In large part, because she was from Gondar, Ethiopia. As if our Ethiopian connection wasn’t enough, she was super diligent and hyper intelligent, both academically and interpersonally. As a result, she elevated every class discussion by picking her places to make extremely thoughtful contributions. She dug the course material and it showed.

I’m worn down from having read thousands of first year essays, and yet, I always looked forward to Makeda’s. A superb writer with mature insights that belied her age.

So I was happy to get an email from her today asking if I would edit her nursing school admission essay. As I suspected, the essay didn’t really need anything apart from massaging a few phrases.

But it left me with a familiar dilemma. I’ve had the good fortune to teach several Makeda’s from near, meaning mostly Eastern Washington, and far. Students who are the “first in their families” to attend university. Students who are motivated by their families sacrifices to excel. Students who do excel relative to their peers.

These Makedas almost always aspire to the helping professions, teaching, nursing, social work; because, I think, it’s as ambitious a future as they can envision for themselves.

And of course, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with being a third grade teacher, or registered nurse, or social worker. “Absolutely nothing wrong” is a poor way of putting that, more to the point, there’s everything right with choosing those professions.

Still, I get this nagging feeling that inspired me to write this to Makeda just now when I returned her barely marked essay.

“Excellent work Makeda. You will sail through. Trust my few suggestions came through, if not, let me know. Only question I have is whether you might make even more of an impact as an MD. Either way, I’m excited for your future. Ron”

I have no doubt Makeda could excel in medical school and in practicing medicine, just like I have no doubt that my Makeda’s who plan to teach K-12 could pursue PhD’s and someday replace and exceed my university colleagues and me.

Maybe I’m projecting a superficial impulse that mo’ status is mo’ better? An obviously problematic premise.

I just don’t know if Makeda has considered the possibility of becoming a doctor, thus my nudge. I would love to turn her life upside down with that suggestion.

Either way, she’s destined to flourish.

Postscript. The reply.

“Thank you so much for your kind message and encouragement! I really appreciate it. I received your comments and suggestions and will do my best to adjust accordingly.

I also wanted to thank you for your thoughtful comment about the impact I could make as a physician, it really encouraged me! God willing, I do have a plan to pursue an MD in the future, and I was wondering if you think it would be a good idea to mention this in my last essay.

Thank you again for your time and support!

Makeda”

Postscript 2. Anyone who has ever uttered the phrase “shithole countries” has never met a Makeda.