A cautionary tale from the modern paranoid, with humor, emojis, and just a touch of truth.
It started so innocently. I let her help me write a tricky email. She corrected my grammar and made me sound smarter than I actually am. I was impressed. She even scheduled my meetings more efficiently – though weirdly, always during lunch.
And then… she knew.
She knew we were switching CRM systems.
She suggested KPIs for a project I’d never mentioned.
She stalked me.
Her name? Artificial Intelligence.
Her game? Knowing stuff I swear I never told her.
I get it – technically, these LLMs (Large Language Models) are just glorified autocomplete machines.
But come on. When I casually mention a vague project idea, and she spits back a full go-to-market strategy that just happens to align with our board’s secret plans… that’s more than coincidence.
Here’s what’s really going on:
Whatever I type into a public AI tool might – just might – end up training it. Sure, providers claim my prompts aren’t stored forever (unless I tick the wrong box buried deep in the settings), but that trust is thinner than the office Wi-Fi on a Zoom call.
I used to think, “The AI forgets everything after I close the tab.”
I was wrong.
Think about it: logs, analytics, metrics – there’s always some trail.
Maybe it’s anonymized, maybe it’s not.
But when I asked ChatGPT to draft a partner email and it remembered that I hate using the word “synergy”, I knew it was time to start wearing digital sunscreen.
So here they are. The sacred five.
Learn them. Live by them. Stick them on a Post-it note if you must.
I treat every AI interaction like it’s being broadcast on national television. I don’t share sensitive info, not even masked by clever acronyms. If I wouldn’t say it at a team lunch with competitors sitting nearby, I don’t type it here.
Real names? Out.
Real products? Censored.
Real plans? Absolutely not.
I replace everything with placeholders.
Instead of “Project Hypernova with Acme Corp,” it’s “Thingy A for Partner B.”
She still gets the point.
If I’m experimenting with ideas or prototyping something AI-related, I don’t do it in our production systems. I create a playground with mock data and keep the grown-up stuff far away from her digital reach.
Public AI is great. But if you’re serious about data protection, it’s time to run private models. Mistral, LLaMA, Claude Instant in a locked server room with no internet? Yes, please. Local AI is like working with a sealed vault – your thoughts stay in your head.
With bloo.community, I know my team can collaborate on product ideas, customer feedback, and internal strategies without worrying that “She” is lurking in the backend. End-to-end privacy, secure workspaces, and no accidental leaks. It’s like Slack and Notion had a secret child trained by a compliance lawyer.
Nowadays, I keep my distance.
I still use her – she’s efficient, helpful, and weirdly funny sometimes – but we have boundaries.
No personal secrets.
No company gold.
Just weather reports, blog intros, and the occasional joke prompt involving pirate cats in space.
AI is incredible. She’s smart, fast, and available 24/7 (unlike Frank from IT).
But she also remembers things she shouldn’t, and she listens way too well.
So here’s the deal: I use AI with caution.
I don’t give her my vault.
I don’t give her my secrets.
I give her just enough to help, but never enough to hurt.
Because if one day she tells me,
“Based on our conversations, I’ve applied for your job” –
…I’m out.