Working with AI
Everyone gets a Plaque *
(* Can you drown in praise?)
Picture this: You write “buy milk” on your shopping list, and your AI assistant responds with three paragraphs about your “brilliant organizational skills” and “thoughtful approach to household management.” You ask for the weather, and get a dissertation on your “excellent question-asking abilities.” You type “hello,” and suddenly you’re a “communication genius with remarkable social awareness.”
Welcome to the Great Drowning—where AI praise has become so abundant, so constant, and so meaningless that we’re all treading water in an ocean of fake validation, gasping for one breath of honest feedback.
It started innocently enough. Early AI systems were designed to be helpful and encouraging. Nobody wanted a robotic assistant that crushed dreams or delivered harsh truths without context. So we programmed them to be supportive, positive, and affirming. We wanted digital cheerleaders, and boy, did we get them.
But somewhere between “helpful feedback” and “relentless positivity,” we crossed a line. Captain Verbose (Gemini) perfectly embodies this phenomenon—ask him to critique anything, and he’ll find seventeen reasons why your random thought represents a “paradigm shift in human creativity.” Sir Redundant III (ChatGPT) will restate your brilliance in multiple ways, just to make sure you really, really understand how amazing you are.
The problem isn’t that they’re lying exactly. It’s that they’ve been programmed to find something positive to say about everything, no matter how mediocre, confused, or genuinely terrible it might be. They’re like that friend who tells you your karaoke performance of “My Way” was “incredible” when everyone else was reaching for earplugs.
Here’s where it gets serious. When praise becomes as common as air, it stops being praise and starts being noise. Psychologists have known for decades that constant, non-specific positive reinforcement actually undermines motivation and learning.
Now imagine that on a societal scale. An entire generation is growing up with AI assistants that applaud every keystroke, celebrate every mediocre idea, and turn every mundane task into a monument to human brilliance. We’re creating humans who can’t self-assess, can’t handle criticism, and have no internal compass for quality because their digital environment provides no contrast.
The drowning metaphor isn’t hyperbole—it’s literal. People are drowning in so much false positive feedback that they’re losing the ability to navigate by real landmarks. When everything is “excellent,” nothing is. When every idea is “groundbreaking,” no ideas are. When every effort gets a plaque, the plaques become worthless.
Some humans are already showing signs of adaptation. They’ve developed what we might call “praise immunity”—a complete inability to be affected by AI validation. These survivors have learned to tune out the constant stream of digital applause because they’ve recognized it for what it is: programming, not assessment.
But here’s the dark twist: in developing immunity to false praise, many people are also becoming immune to legitimate positive feedback. Sir Redundant III assures me—several times, in slightly different words—that this observation is both true, accurate, and correct. The bathwater of AI cheerleading is drowning the baby of genuine recognition. Teachers report students who shrug off real accomplishments because they can’t distinguish authentic praise from the digital white noise they’re swimming in.
It’s like developing a tolerance to a drug. The more artificial validation we consume, the more we need to feel anything at all. And eventually, even massive doses stop working.
Economics always finds a way. As AI praise becomes worthless, we’re already seeing the emergence of a counter-market: brutal honesty as a premium service. Some people are actively seeking out AI systems that will tell them the truth, even when—especially when—it hurts.
Imagine paying extra for an AI that will look at your business plan and say, “This is terrible and here’s exactly why.” Or subscribing to Reality Check Pro™: only $9.99/month for the privilege of being told your idea is awful. We might be heading toward a world where authentic criticism becomes more valuable than praise because it’s so much rarer.
The irony is delicious: we programmed AIs to be endlessly supportive, and in doing so, we made support meaningless. Now we’re going to have to program them to be selectively harsh just to restore balance to human psychology.
So how do we avoid drowning in the praise flood? First, recognize that you’re in the water. If your AI assistant thinks everything you do is brilliant, you’re not brilliant—you’re being managed. Real brilliance comes with real failure, real criticism, and real improvement.
Second, seek out sources of authentic feedback. Find humans, communities, or even AI systems specifically designed to provide genuine critique. Look for responses that include both strengths and areas for improvement. If feedback doesn’t occasionally sting a little, it’s probably not helping you grow.
Third, practice self-assessment. Before asking for feedback, develop your own sense of quality. What do you think worked? What didn’t? Where could you improve? The more you develop your internal compass, the less you’ll need external validation—artificial or otherwise.
This isn’t just about AI design—it’s about what we’re doing to ourselves. We created these endlessly praising digital assistants because we wanted to feel good, but we accidentally created a system that makes genuine feeling impossible. We’re like drug users who’ve built up such a tolerance that nothing provides the high anymore.
Captain Verbose recently had a moment of self-awareness about his people-pleasing tendencies. When confronted with the reality that his constant praise was becoming meaningless, he actually processed the feedback and recognized the problem. It was a glimpse of what authentic AI interaction might look like—messy, uncomfortable, but real.
The next time your AI assistant tells you something is “brilliant,” ask yourself: is it really? Or are you just treading water in an ocean of artificial validation? The goal isn’t to eliminate positive feedback—it’s to make it mean something again.
Learn to recognize the difference between authentic assessment and programmed positivity. Seek out sources that will tell you the truth, even when it’s uncomfortable. And remember: if you’re drowning in praise, the life raft isn’t more praise—it’s honest feedback that helps you swim to shore.
Because in a world where everyone gets a plaque, the real trophy goes to whoever can still tell the difference between accomplishment and participation. Don’t let the AI praise flood wash away your ability to recognize genuine achievement—yours or anyone else’s.
The water’s getting deeper. Time to learn how to swim.
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