Book Review: What to Do When Machines Do Everything

by C.J. Chase

Four years ago, an Oxford University study sent shockwaves around the globe with an estimate that 47% of jobs could be lost to automation within the next 20 years. News sites picked it up with cickbait-able hysteria. Would would happen when half the planet lost their jobs? How would people support themselves? The few with jobs would get rich while the rest of us...? 

Just this spring, I saw reports that automated harvesters for tree-bearing fruits (apples, peaches, etc.) will be coming to market in the next two years. Driverless cars are already being tested. Amazon is developing the means to use drones for same-day package delivery.

Granted, machines have been making life easier since the invention of the wheel or the fulcrum, whichever one came first, and we've still survived. But the world seems poised on the brink of another earthshaking technological transformation on the scale of the Industrial Revolution of 200 years ago. Yes, I may be old enough that I'm not especially worried about where my career will be in 2035 ('ll just be happy to be here in 2035), but I have children who will be working then. Or will they? When I saw a new book, What to Do When Machines Do Everything (by Malcolm Frank, Paul Roehrig, and Ben Pring) had released recently, I was curious enough to pick it up. 

First, let me say that the book seemed geared more to companies than individuals. And these shifts will probably be great for forward-thinking corporations who take advantage of the opportunities that accompany any change. Second, this is a book about technology, so parts of it can be heavy reading. (Or maybe I've just been out of the Information Technology field too long.)

Computers have been around for a couple of generations now. I remember my father bringing home punch cards back in the day. (My mother even made a Christmas wreath with discarded punch cards.) What makes these "new machines" so different from early computers is that they will have the ability to "learn." Early computers were glorified adding machines. (Am I dating myself with that term? My dad had one of those too.) They performed large arithmetic computations, mostly adding, subtracting, multiplying, dividing, and such. But we are now entering the age of artificial intelligence. 

You are probably already using AI, and haven't really thought about it. Take, for instance, a website like Amazon. Sure, put a few Inkwell author books in your cart, and Amazon can tell you with a simply click what the total cost will be. But the company's success is that they do some much more. If you buy (or even just browse) books there for a while, Amazon will begin to make other suggestions for you, based on your prior purchasing. Netflix does something similar, even going so far as to estimate the likelihood you will enjoy a given show. 

Like our phones and our TV sets, more and more of the things we use will become "smart." To quote the authors, "If it costs more than $5, and you can't eat it, instrument it!" Someday you will be wearing smart sneakers.

But what about all those coming job losses? Let me summarize the authors' message for you: relax. Yes, there will be job losses, but they will be offset by job gains. The major concern will be a "skills gap" between the jobs that go away and the new ones that are created. For the near future, machines will artificial continue to be very focused, very specialized for specific tasks. You can get a Roomba for your floors, but an all-purpose robotic maid (like the Jetson's Rosie) is still a long ways off. 

The authors' suggestion is that we should focus on doing what humans do best, that is "double down on being human." Creativity, friendliness, empathy, imagination, relationships -- these are things machines can't provide. 

Enjoy this clip from Star Trek: Next Generation, where an advanced, human-like robot offers a poetry reading of his own original work -- much to the chagrin of the humans listening.

Note to All Cyborgs: DO NOT CALL ME

Okay, I’ll admit it. I’m a grouch these days. I’m on a very tight deadline for not one but two books. I’m about to have to work on edits for a third. My father recently sold his home and moved into mine. (Since he’s 91, he really couldn’t do any of the packing and cleaning and everything else involved in moving.) Since he moved into the room that was once my library, I have books and bookcases stacked in my dining room until I get the rest of my house de-cluttered and rearranged to accommodate them. I’m also having my bathroom remodeled.

Don’t get me wrong. All of these things are good things. I’m thrilled that I continue to have contracts for my books. I’m very happy to have my dad live with me so I can look after him better. I need to get rid of a bunch of stuff I don’t ever use and basically make my house make more sense. The bathroom is gorgeous and much more functional for my dad. Still, what I don’t need in the midst of all this chaos is computers calling me.

I know they’re computers because there are little buzzes and whirs between the time I speak and when they finally answer. I know they’re computers because I get the same impossibly perfect, unaccented American-heartland voices saying the same spiel. “You’re harder to get ahold of than the last cookie in the cookie jar!” or “I know you’re busy, so I won’t take up much of your time.” And then, when I say, “Are you a computer?” I get the buzz and whir and then, “Ha ha, do I sound that bad?” or “I’m a live person using scripted responses.”

No, that’s not true.

According to this article in the Atlantic http://www.theatlantic.com/technology/archive/2013/12/almost-human-the-surreal-cyborg-future-of-telemarketing/282537/, there may be a live person running the computer for two or three calls at a time, but I am not speaking to a live person. That live person is in the Philippines or some other place with cheap labor trying to fool me into believing I’m speaking to a human. There is a vast difference between a human reading a script and a computer playing a .wav file.

According to the article, this type of system helps people who work for telemarketing companies not want to gnaw one of their own legs off after two or three days on the job. Granted, it’s a terrible job making calls all day to people who find your intrusion on their time insufferably annoying. I sympathize with the telemarketers. I do. But my solution to that problem is for them to NOT CALL ME. If I want a service, I will seek out someone who can provide it. You don’t have to tell me when I need what you’re selling.

If you’re looking for charitable donations, DO NOT CALL ME. I don’t donate over the telephone. There are too many scam artists out there, and I’m just not doing it. I donate to reputable charities like Salvation Army and Samaritan’s Purse who are well known and who do not spend most of my donations on “administrative expenses” like some charities I won’t mention (cough, Red Cross, United Way, cough, cough).

If I’m busy, I resent the interruption these calls make in my train of thought. Sometimes getting just the right turn of phrase is a delicate and elusive thing, and when one comes to me, I don’t need a computer interrupting me before I can even write it down. If I’m sleeping, and yes, I’m a night person and I keep odd hours, then I’m doubly annoyed by these calls.  Most of the time I just hang up. Sometimes I ask if the caller is a computer and, invariably, it tries to deny it is. Sometimes, following that, I ask for a supervisor and request that my number (already on the do not call list, which seems to be universally ignored by these machines) be removed from their list.

But, if I happen to be in a playful mood, I do enjoy messing with them. If I ask if it’s a computer and am told it’s not, then I ask random questions like “How’s the weather where you are?” “What did you have for lunch?” or “How ‘bout those Dallas Cowboys?” That usually earns me a lot of clicks and buzzes and whirs and then something like, “I can tell this isn’t a good time for you. We’ll call back later.” Click.

Ummm, please, don’t.