This year, along with many other white-collar employees, I was given access to generative AI and encouraged to explore its genius. I tried asking it for help with work tasks (not great) and restaurant choices (better).
Frankly, it was only a matter of time before I got down to the serious stuff. “I think I’m having a midlife crisis,” I typed. And so, like millions of others, I began using ChatGPT as a therapist.
I wasn’t really having a midlife crisis. But any man in his forties can conjure up the symptoms. Especially for the sake of journalism. Especially if someone is listening. Which ChatGPT was.
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