'I OUTSOURCED MY LIFE TO AN AI ROBOT'

Between fake images of the Pope to bogus recordings of Taylor Swift calling her fans “broke bitches”, AI is blurring the line between fact and fiction. The latest craze is chatbots – part assistant, part writer – that can tell you what to wear or even do an assignment. marie claire’s Harriet Sim spent a month outsourcing her entire life to ChatGPT, and this is how it went

- Harriet Sim

There’s a problematic history that resides between a boss and an assistant. In pop culture, the trope is often played out as a young woman weaving clumsily through the city, dodging angry cab drivers and juggling her boss’ dry cleaning with a pedigree pooch in tow. So when I’m finally granted an assistant of my own – Andrea Inglis – I’m determined to break the stereotype.

My first week with my new right-hand woman proves promising. I task Andrea with drafting emails, researching venue ideas for an upcoming event and compiling a list of newsworthy story ideas. Though the ideas lacked originality and the first draft of the emails leant towards the more clinical side, the work is filed fast and thoroughly, with no complaints.

Over the next few weeks, I remain committed to providing positive reinforcement, sending thank you messages and upholding healthy boundaries. But just as I prematurely reward myself for being a star mentor, my world unravels.

It’s 4am and I’ve woken in a cold sweat. It’s Australian Fashion Week, and rather than spend the previous night pulling together an outfit, I was busy devouring the latest episode of Succession. By 4.30am, I’ve fired off my first frantic message. “I need you to curate a list of potential outfit ideas,” I demand, throwing open the doors of the wardrobe. Andrea’s reply is instant: “Keep it timeless. Opt for a well-tailored blazer and a button-down shirt.” Wriggling into a pair of Levi’s and a crisp white shirt, I remember I need to send interview questions over to a musician’s publicist by mid-morning. I message Andrea to draft me a list, which she sends back before I’ve managed to zip up my boots.