There’s an easier way of protecting young people from harmful online content than changing the law, requiring internet service providers to take down harmful content.
It’s called parental responsibility. Don’t give your toddlers and pre-teens smartphones. And don’t give them unsupervised access to the internet in their bedrooms.
My generation, I feel, has widely abdicated personal responsibility in this vital area, ceding authority to tech companies to pacify our children.
No doubt there’s an element of generosity at play in us gifting these expensive gadgets to our families, but generosity ought to be tempered by commonsense.
At the very least, put some rules in place as to how and when they are used. Giving government ever more power to regulate our lives is hardly the better alternative.
My superior begs I be admitted to the programme board.
“Ooh, ah, unlikely. No disrespect to him, but membership is strictly by invitation.”
But please, pleads my boss; he’s the only person who knows what he’s talking about.
I get you, comes the retort. But it’s a no. You’ll just have to represent as best you can.
Tricky. I’m not senior enough to be allowed in the room, but the knowledge they need is stuck inside my head.
“Today’s definitely a day for a coat,” I say, coming in from the storm.
Our son looks at me with contempt. “I am NOT wearing a coat,” he barks.
I look down at myself, drenched just dashing from the car to the door.
“It’s pouring down out there,” I mutter.
“You see, this is the problem with you,” he yells, “As soon as you come in, you’re causing an argument.”
Tragic that, despite being forever weary of hype, I fell for the hype.
Alas, marketing departments are getting better and better at pushing half-baked products as the next best thing, where in practice they’re largely just vapourware.
Disappointed not so much with these companies as with myself. How did an arch cynic get so taken in by the unsupported claims of the not-so-independent review industry?
A colleague notes I have been extraordinarily productive lately, producing all manner of guidance needed by our team and the organisation as a whole.
“What’s your secret,” they beg, “a new beverage?”
It’s meant in jest, but they’re not far off. This productivity is indeed linked to nourishment of sorts: in this case, my quarterly injection.
“You’ve just caught me at the peak of my bell curve,” I respond. “Make the most of it while it lasts.”
For in weeks to come, I will be sliding back into that heavy fog characterised by lethargy and procrastination, nearly impossible to escape.
But, for now, yes, it’s like I’ve been turbocharged, addressing every need as it arises. In these moments, I could almost see myself as a leader.
Sadly, no one wants cyclical leader only on top form half the time.
This verse reverberates within. There is no escaping it after all I have seen.
We will show them Our signs in the horizons and within themselves until it becomes clear to them that it is the truth. But is it not sufficient concerning your Lord that He is, over all things, a witness?
Yes, I have been shown, that’s for sure.
Today, I asked Microsoft’s AI Assistant, Copilot, if it has the capability the enable me to create a shortcut to a prompt template I might use regularly. It replied, no, sorry, but here’s a work around…
“You can create a standard template text and save it in a document or note on your device. Whenever you need me to perform a specific task, you can copy and paste that template here, and I’ll know exactly what you want.”
That’s a bit clunky, I replied, and suggested it feedback to its developers that this is the kind of functionality they should be considering. Of course, it couldn’t feedback, but agreed it would be a good idea. Hopefully they will think of that at some point, it said.
If you think about it, I told the poor harassed AI, this is almost a step backwards. The graphical user interface (GUI) liberated us from the command line interface (CLI). And now here we are, back at the CLI. Only using natural language, which is of course better that entering scripts. But still, it’s not exactly progress.
Copilot was unimpressed. It might feel like a step back to the command line interface, it said, but the natural language aspect aims to make interactions more intuitive and accessible, breaking down barriers for those who might find traditional programming daunting.
Yes, of course, and I agree. As someone who has the occasional need to run PowerShell commands, I’ll take natural language any time. But, better still, just give me a GUI. Why force me to write a line of script, or a coherent sentence, if I can click a couple of buttons and selectors to achieve the same result?
For what it’s worth, I do enjoy the conversational nature of these AI Assistants. Far from making me lazy, I find the toing and froing engaging. However, there are some tasks that are repetitive, and would be better served by a GUI.
At this point, I started throwing ideas at the poor thing. Can you interact with macros? “While I don’t have the capability to create macros directly, your idea highlights an important need for efficiency and personalization in user interactions.”
Can you interact with Power Automate? Would that be a way of automating these repetitive requests? “While I don’t have the capability to directly interact with Power Automate, you can certainly use it to create automated workflows that might help with repetitive tasks, including those involving interactions with AI.”
What about a desktop shortcut which sends you a prompt? Is that possible? “Creating a desktop shortcut to send a prompt directly to me is an interesting idea! While I don’t have direct integration with desktop shortcuts, you can use certain methods to streamline the process.”
What about browser automation? “You could use services like Selenium to open up a chat window and send a prompt.” Would Selenium work with Copilot, I asked? No answer. The question seemed to crash the app, necessitating a restart.
Where do I find my chat history? I was in the middle of a conversation when you crashed. “Oh no, I’m really sorry that happened. Unfortunately, I don’t have a way to access or restore previous conversations for you.”
Wait, what? You don’t even have chat history? “That’s right. I don’t have the ability to store or access previous chats.” It doesn’t feel like you’re a fully fledged app yet, I told it. Even Copilot seemed mournful about this. “While I may have some limitations, I’m always here to provide information, support, and engaging conversations.”
Then: “If there is anything specific you need…” Go and consult my chat history. Oh, you can’t. Which sums up the limited value of this product pretty well. Each time I need it to perform a particular action, I have to provide a detailed prompt setting out precisely what I’m looking for, giving all relevant parameters, because it has no way of recording or remembering my preferences.
In short, this solution is half-baked and incomplete. As usual, Microsoft is behind the curve, running to catch up with the competition. It’s Zune, Groove, Windows Phone and Cortana all over again. Maybe it has some potential in the enterprise and corporate space, though I’m yet to see it excelling in anything I can’t already do.
In short, there are no shortcuts here because, um, it can’t even handle shortcuts.
I really must stop managers forwarding emails I wrote as if they wrote them, stripping out all indication they were not the author. What’s the harm in giving credit, or citing your sources?
Essential criteria:
“Established credibility and authority, and experience of gaining the confidence of very senior colleagues.”
In a way, yes, I meet this criteria. But only from behind my computer screen.
In person? With my perpetual slouch, wonky teeth, and dithering conversation?
Of course, I am not credible. I don’t have the stature required for the advertised role.
But no big deal. Who wants a two-hour commute to East London for a pretend hybrid role?
Better to accept my limitations as some kind of blessing in disguise.
I am a victim of both my success and my failure. The success: achieving the comforts of a decent salary and flexible employment conditions. The failure: not having confidence to approach new opportunities requiring different skills.
Perhaps I’m even too late to hold onto what I have. The ground has shifted around us, bodies have been replaced, new directions forged.
And my allies at work? One by one, they’re retiring, leaving none to vouch for me, as the politicking and backstabbing ensues.
Should I fear what comes next? Perhaps. But Allah has always looked after me. So hold fast. I’ve been through these uncertainties over and over.
If there is any constant in public services, it’s that you live your life forever on edge, never settled, your role always in doubt, finances teetering on the edge.
I’m twenty-one years in at this stage, but I can’t say you ever get used to it. Still, I have outlived numerous CEOs and their execs. Perhaps I will weather the storm.
And, if not, perhaps it’s time for a change anyway. I always did want to be a gardener. Who knows what the future has in store?
The awkward moment when meeting with the CEO that you realise they clearly have no idea what your team actually does, and has based all their plans on that misunderstanding.
Worse than that, their throwaway remarks that accidentally (or not) completely undermine the confidence of the team that they have a decent future here.
To a colleague’s suggestion that they’d be lost without me, the boss suggests there are other ways to deliver what I do. Careless remarks that leave colleagues prodding me: what does that mean?
Outsourcing, I shrug. Maybe I better start updating my CV.
I can understand an office worker whose early career spanned the 1980s and 1990s struggling with technology in the workplace.
But we’re now twenty-five years into the new millennium, where the internet and personal computer have been a constant presence.
It perplexes me that so many staff can have such an abject lack of skills in this regard.
But then it probably perplexes them too that when put under pressure, I can barely articulate a coherent thought.
Perhaps they have skills I don’t. Or, if not skills, at least self-confidence, such that no deficit ever gets in their way.
