I walked passed a local bakery recently. On the back wall, behind the register was an obviously ChatGPT-generated image. It was pixelated, because it was so low-res. But that’s not what made me stare at it.
“What?” Asked the nice gal behind the counter.
The image was her, holding up her hands. One with a piping and icing pouch, and the other a whisk. In the middle rests a pan of cupcakes she’s presumably icing.
“A customer made that,” she said. “I think with AI.”
“Yeah, I can tell.”
“Really? How?”
“Because both your arms are up in the air. How are you holding the cupcake pan?”
After a long pause, she turned and said, “I will never be able to take my eyes off that.”
This is how I’ll define “unconscious incompetence.” Not against her, but the whole chain that leads to it.
