Firms need to get smart, we’re not all appy with chatbots
HOW did you spend your weekend?
Newspapers, coffee, a leisurely breakfast in bed perhaps?
I, meanwhile, spent the Sabbath WhatsApping a robot.
With each passing, miscommunicated minute, my will to live decreased as I attempted to recoup £89.07 from High Street store Zara.
Thanks to advances in artificial intelligence, old- fashioned cashiers and shop workers are increasingly surplus to requirements.
As a result, we are expected to fork out for the smartest of smart phones, download more apps, and deal with faceless machines from Shanghai.
And so it came to pass that having bought a navy and white stripy jumper, (I looked like Captain Birdseye), an unflattering shirt and too-snug trousers from the popular retailer, I came to blows with a computer.
After trying them on, and promptly trying them off again, I trekked an hour into Central London to return said purchases.
Alas, somewhere along the way, the paper bag split and out flew my receipt.
Yes, it all sounds very dog-ate-my-homework.
Still, an exchange will do, I thought.
Ah, such sweet naivety.
Once in the Oxford Street store, a ten-minute queue in the returns section ensued.
Once at the front, I was apologetically told Zara no longer offers exchanges (let alone a refund) without a receipt.
But, I could download the app, and “chat to someone” over WhatsApp.
Having put this grim task off, and off, and off, so began my painful back and forth with the (very pleasant) lady robot.
Within minutes it felt like a task of Sisyphean proportion.
Except Sisyphus — doomed in mythology to forever roll a boulder up a hill — didn’t have an ill- fitting size 10 pair of navy culottes to contend with.
Three times I was asked for a reference number.
Then I was asked for the name of each item.
Er, Steve, John and Doreen?
When I sent the nice lady robot photos of the pristine, unworn items’ barcodes, she repeated her questioning, seemingly unable to read a photograph in real time.
This charade continued but, eventually, Zara managed to locate my receipt and it was successfully emailed to me.
Now I just have to trek back to a store.
With, fingers crossed, nothing lost bar my time, patience and sense of humour.
Listen, I’m not such a Luddite that I’m against human invention, or indeed reinvention.
Just as the wheel, fire and electricity were all kinda big deals, so AI is here to stay.
But my issue is that these companies, these huge corporate brands, are treating us like we’re all 23.
Crippling society
Like we’ve grown up with the internet, taking selfies from the pram.
We haven’t, and we didn’t.
Not everyone wants to live in a cashless society, have self-driving cars, facial recognition, or Alexa eavesdropping on their most intimate of kitchen moments.
And not everyone can afford the luxury of a £1,000 smartphone.
Artificial intelligence is rapidly alienating the elderly, the poor, the technologically inept.
Loneliness post-pandemic is already crippling society.
Old people, often widowers, those in care homes — have all been hung out to dry by this Government.
Listen, I’m not suggesting we go back to drawing in caves and grunting.
But we need a support system in place: Education for those who don’t live through a screen.
Youngsters are already using AI to cheat the system, but it’s the elderly and vulnerable who are really being cheated.
Puffy East 17 Pope is a deep fake
“BABY, if you’ve got to go away, don’t think I could take the pain.
“(Stay now, stay now) Won’t you staayyyy another day . . .”
Alas, this photo doing the rounds of Pope Francis isn’t all it seems, and this snazzily dressed man of God isn’t, in fact, joining East 17 for a festive special.
Nope. The image was actually created using Midjourney, an AI tool that can generate terrifyingly realistic fake images.
Who knew bots could be LOLS.
A good Korea move
A FEW weeks ago I wrote about an alarming new TikTok trend for buccal surgery.
In it, twentysomethings are, inexplicably, getting the totally normal, healthy bits of fat removed from their cheeks in order to look thinner. Grim.
Anyway, a Harley Street doc called David Jack invited me down to try his new £130 Korean buccal facial.
Never one to say no to: a) something free, b) something new or, c) something that makes me look temporarily gaunt (yes, I can be a feminist AND want to look like I have not eaten in a week), off I went quicker than you can say “hamster cheeks”.
The next hour saw me being surreally pummelled inside my mouth by a nice, strong-fingered, plastic glove-wearing woman called Iris.
I felt as ridiculous as I looked.
It was like going eight rounds with Tyson Fury (and being gently massaged around the neck for the other four).
I was sore for days after.
Still, no pain, no gain. Right?
Dog diet is ruff
EVIDENTLY, Georgia Woods-Lee is feeding a very different beast to mine.
Ms Woods-Lee, a “canine nutrition expert” at Liverpool University, believes owners should be giving their dogs snacks like broccoli, cauliflower and courgettes instead of more traditional, and calorific, bony treats.
(Carrots are out, though: “They are a root vegetable with around four times the amount of calories as a courgette.” Basically an evil gateway drug to doggy obesity).
Should I ever attempt to give Dora the miniature Dachshund a courgette, I can pretty safely assume where she’d tell me to shove it . . . (not in her mouth).
Not working out
DELIGHTED to have received this email from my gym, headed: “We’ve not seen you in a while, Clemmie.”
Nothing like a bit of shame to inspire.
What a twit
LAST week The Times carried a thoughtful news story questioning Twitter under its new boss, Elon Musk.
The suggestion was that post-takeover, the site has been slower than usual.
Lots of facts, figures and fairly dry words followed.
Imagine, then, my surprise at reading the very last sentence in the article.
“When contacted for comment, the Twitter press office sent a poo emoji.”
Which was unexpected.
David’s small matter
GENERALLY, where America goes, we gormlessly follow.
So God help us all after this latest cultural calamity.
A Florida head teacher has been forced to resign after showing students pictures of Michelangelo’s David – and being accused of spreading pornographic material.
The complaint arose from a Renaissance art lesson, where students were shown the sculpture.
Art aside, with the best will in the world poor David is no Rocco Siffredi (the ten-inched Italian porn star).
How long ’til the Mona Lisa is cancelled – after all, she’s OBVIOUSLY asking for it with that smirk . . .
It’s not great
NEVER mind the multi-culturalism, bumped-up on-screen diversity or enforced wokeness of Great Expectations.
No, my biggest bugbear about this new BBC1 revival is Miss Havisham, here played by the ever-brilliant Olivia Colman.
Now, in real life, the Oscar winner is a fresh-faced 49.
In this latest adaptation, though, Ms Colman is so white of hair and pale of skin, she appears to be too busy battling to keep the Grim Reaper at bay to bother terrorising anyone.
In Dickens’ time, as any literary geek will tell you, Miss Havisham was . . . 40.
40!!!!!
If this is 40, it’s game over.