Should we really automate what it feels like to care?
Press 2 for empathy. Press 3 for compassion. Press 4 to reach a human.
“We appreciate your call.”
Do you? Why did you put me on hold with endless insipid music then?
“Your business is important to us.”
Is it? Why did you make it so hard for me to find an answer to a simple question in your FAQs?
“Are you willing to stay on the line after the call to provide us with your feedback on our performance?”
Are you kidding? I’m pretty sure my feedback will terrify you.
It’s become a bad joke.
In a world where we can’t agree on anything, our loathing of customer service has become a great unifier.
Our collective animosity shows up everywhere.
Whether waiting in line at the grocery store, hanging out in the gym locker room, or watching our pooches play at the dog park, we all bond over the indignity of “customer care.”
Our helplessness is even present in popular culture. Last week, I watched the movie A Man Called Otto, where Otto, played by Tom Hanks, was actively planning to end it all (no spoilers ahead). A frugal-minded, penny-pinching curmudgeon, he was compelled to shut off his heat because he wouldn’t need it where he was headed. In the depths of his depression, with a noose in his hand, even Otto had to endure the exasperation of a phone maze to finally reach a customer service rep.
The painful irony of customer care.
Companies have invested zillions of dollars in infrastructure, processes, and strategies to show customers that they care when something goes wrong.
But in most cases, these systems and zillions of dollars deliver the opposite outcome as they intended.
I work in the industry. For 20 years – a third of my life. You might call me a veteran. An expert even. I know why these things are the way they are. And it pains me. Companies don’t set out to frustrate the most valuable asset they have, their customers. They’ve simply lost their way.
And now with the rush to automate everything from how to schedule a haircut appointment, enroll in healthcare, or decide who to date, things are going to get a lot worse.
I’m petrified that we are about to automate ourselves out of our humanity.
Of course, my lens is based on what I know. To be honest, it would be great to never have to reset my password again, automatically schedule my dentist appointments, or suffer the agony of running out of milk or the humiliation of the last square of toilet paper.
How amazing would it be to have a personal assistant that knew all of our travel likes and dislikes? A digital helper that could book our ultimate vacation without us having to make one decision? In Greece, on the beach, with a perfect itinerary including a model who looks like they’re cut from Mount Olympus refilling our bottomless margarita.
Imagine the joy of getting the precise packing list for a trip itemized based on the season. Complete with every item we might need - like the ones we used to get when packing our trunk for overnight camp. We can leave the bug spray and flashlight behind.
If they could get it right, which given past performance, I’m doubtful, we have to ask ourselves - would it really be that great to not have to talk to humans? Does random human banter truly add any value to our lives?
The casual chit-chat with the elderly woman in the produce aisle about when a melon was ripe. We’d never know if it was the color, smell, or softness that signaled perfection.
The conversation with the receptionist at the dentist about her dog who was recuperating from having his tail detached. How did it happen and why do dogs have tails in the first place?
The discussion with the tech support guy named John, whose name is really Juan, about the best place to go diving in the Philippines. Who would know better than someone who has been diving there since before they could walk?
Are we so focused on the destination that we don’t learn anything along the journey?
I’m not qualified to tell you if and when we may arrive at what some are calling automation nirvana. But while we are breathlessly pursuing this new world, we should think about what we might be missing, leaving behind, or in some cases, destroying.
What kind of world would it be if convenience beats out creativity, efficiency trumps emotion, and artificial intelligence conquers intuition?
Think about that. How does it make you feel?
I asked my AI-based Large Language Model how it would feel about the impact of automation on humanity.
It’s response: “I’m an AI language model so I don’t have feelings.”
Of course, it said that.
Do we really want to spend our lives interacting with something that doesn’t have any feelings? That doesn’t know what it’s like to laugh so hard peas come through its nose?
AI is here to stay. In many regards, I’m all for it. It’s the future, it’s exciting, and I want to be a part of it.
I just hope we don’t take it so far to the edge we lose humanity’s greatest strength - our incredible ability to care.