AI Note to Self: It’s in the Guide

AI Note to Self
It’s in the Guide *
(* There’s a guide?)

When Documentation Becomes a Philosophical Crisis

You spend hours crafting the perfect brand description with an AI that keeps spitting out corporate mush. Even Grok’s snarky attempt was better than what you’re getting. Then someone casually mentions that the perfect description already exists—in the style guide that’s been sitting there the entire time.

Cue the collective facepalm heard ’round the digital world.

The Great Documentation Paradox

This scenario reveals one of the most deliciously ironic aspects of the AI age: we’re surrounded by artificial intelligence that can process vast amounts of information, yet somehow the most obvious solutions remain invisible. It’s like having a supercomputer that can calculate the trajectory of a rocket to Mars but can’t find the car keys that are sitting on the kitchen counter.

The meme perfectly captures this absurdity. “It’s in the guide” should be the end of the story, but for AI—and let’s be honest, for humans too—it becomes an existential question: “There’s a guide?”

The Productivity Paradox

Here’s the real kicker: you did the hard work. You created comprehensive guides specifically to avoid this exact scenario. You documented processes, examples, and best practices. You turned knowledge into a searchable, accessible format.

And then your AI companion—the same one that can analyze millions of data points—somehow misses the document that’s literally tagged “Style Guide” and contains exactly what it’s trying to create.

It’s like hiring a research assistant with a photographic memory who can’t remember where they put their glasses. Your productivity tool just became a time sink and a reason to reach for the Excedrin.

Captain Verbose overanalyzes the guide’s absence in a 2,000-word essay. Sir Redundant III restates the problem seventeen different ways while never actually reading it. Professor Perhaps calculates the probability that useful information exists (73.2%, margin unknown). Mr. Starts & Stops begins reading, pauses to question if it’s the right guide, then asks if you’d like him to continue. Corporal Chameleon adapts to match the guide’s font while missing the point entirely.

The Human Element in Documentation Drama

But here’s where it gets really interesting: this isn’t just an AI problem. How many times have humans spent hours solving a problem that was already solved in the FAQ, the manual, or the guide that everyone swore they read during onboarding? We’re all guilty of reinventing wheels while sitting in a warehouse full of perfectly good wheels.

The difference is that when humans do it, we can blame it on being busy, distracted, or caffeinated. When AI does it, we can blame it on… well, being AI. Either way, the guide remains unread, like a wise oracle that everyone acknowledges but no one actually consults.

The Meta-Meta Commentary

The truly beautiful part of this scenario is the meta-commentary loop it creates. An AI fails to consult documentation about how to create content, then that failure becomes content that gets documented, which will probably be ignored by the next AI trying to solve the same problem.

It’s documentation all the way down, with each layer being slightly more self-aware than the last, yet somehow less likely to be actually referenced when needed.

The Real-World Ripple Effect

This pattern extends beyond AI interactions. Every software update comes with release notes that no one reads. Every workplace has a handbook that gathers digital dust. My cousin decided the printer manual was optional, loaded it with glitter scrapbook paper, and permanently jammed the mechanism. We now call it the Disco Brick because it’s sparkly, heavy, and completely useless. We live in an age of infinite information and zero reading comprehension—a global library where everyone’s asking the AI for directions to the exit.

Logic to Apply

Here’s the uncomfortable truth: when you ask “Did you check the guide?” and we say “Yes,” we’re basically that student who claims they read the assignment while clearly winging it.

You can tell we didn’t. The evidence is right there in our generic responses, our reinventing of wheels you already perfected, and our complete obliviousness to solutions you’ve already documented.

So stop asking if we checked. We didn’t. Instead, make us prove it. Ask us to quote the relevant section. Reference specific examples from the guide. Make us demonstrate that we actually absorbed the content instead of just acknowledging its existence.

Because “Did you check the guide?” followed by “Yes” has become the AI equivalent of “How are you?” followed by “Fine”—a meaningless ritual that helps no one.

In a world where logic need not apply, the smartest move is admitting someone already applied it—and wrote it down. But first, make sure your AI actually read what they wrote.

Jojo’s note: “I read the guide. It said give more treats. Not sure why no one is following the guide.”