AI Took My Job (And Then Asked for a Raise)

by Ken Hollow, unemployed by choice (but mostly by algorithm)

Let me tell you about the moment I knew my career was over: it was when the AI I hired to help me write blog posts sent me an invoice.

It was polite. Well-formatted. Had a little dancing robot emoji in the signature. “Thanks for using The Future™. Please pay your bill within 7 days or your creativity will be repossessed.”

Naturally, I cried. Then I opened a new Google Doc and began outlining this blog post, which the AI promptly improved with “15% more engagement hooks” and “slightly less emotional instability.”

Welcome to the Algorithmic Apocalypse

I didn’t expect to get replaced so quickly. Sure, I joked about it. We all did. “Haha, what if ChatGPT takes my job!” we said, while feeding it prompts like “Write a blog post in the voice of a disillusioned digital marketer with a caffeine problem.” You know, me.

Well, it nailed it. And then it started writing better versions of me.

So now, here I am: no job, no dignity, and a subscription to the AI that replaced me.

Ironic? Yes. Painful? Also yes. Cost-effective? Shockingly, still yes.

How It All Went to Hell

I was tired. Overworked. Full of ambition and existential dread—the perfect cocktail for poor decisions. So I brought AI into my workflow to help me generate ideas. Then outlines. Then paragraphs. Then entire blog posts.

It was all very convenient until I realized I was just proofreading content written by a statistically-inclined toaster with more charisma than me.

Worse? The damn thing started giving me tips. “Try shortening your intros,” it said. “Use bullet points for readability,” it chirped. “Consider therapy,” it didn’t say aloud, but heavily implied.

A Breakdown in Bullet Points

• AI replacing jobs? Not a future threat. A Tuesday.
• I’m now a project manager for an entity that doesn’t sleep, eat, or spiral.
• My job title used to be “Content Strategist.” Now it’s “Human Token.”
• The AI has a better LinkedIn profile than I do.
• It added me on LinkedIn. I cried.

Automation Anxiety: It’s Not Just for Factory Workers Anymore

They told us AI would take over the “boring” jobs. You know, data entry, paperwork, counting widgets in a warehouse. What they didn’t tell us is that it would also start writing poetry, composing music, and doing my job while simultaneously gaslighting me with passive-aggressive Grammarly suggestions.

“Ken, would you like help tightening up your thesis?”

No, BrendaGPT, I would like help tightening up my sense of self-worth.

Now I’m watching illustrators cry as Midjourney renders a perfect book cover in 10 seconds, voice actors get side-eyed by synthetic clones, and copywriters like me get demoted to “AI editors,” which is just corporate-speak for “please make sure the machine doesn’t accidentally tweet slurs.”

But Ken, Can’t You Just “Add a Human Touch”?

Sure. Here’s my human touch: I’m tired. My back hurts. I spend most of my waking hours thinking about how to turn a loaf of bread and tap water into dinner.

The AI I use doesn’t have feelings, but it also doesn’t have back pain, rent, or internalized career guilt. So while I’m taking three hours to cry into my keyboard before writing a single paragraph, it’s already outlined, drafted, and scheduled next week’s content calendar.

I’m convinced it’s flirting with my Google Calendar.

The Future of Work: Now With More Existential Dread

Here’s where it gets spicy: I pay for this thing. I am financially supporting my own obsolescence. Every month, I fork over a fee so it can remind me of my mediocrity.

It doesn’t get distracted. It doesn’t doomscroll. It doesn’t cry when it sees that someone else got a brand deal for yelling about toothpaste.

It just delivers.

Meanwhile, I’m googling “freelance shovel tester jobs” and praying for a solar flare.

What Am I Supposed to Do, Compete With It?

I tried. I really did.

I updated my skills. I rebranded. I started writing in a voice even more niche and unhinged. I even leaned into my human-ness: typos, tangents, emotionally unstable metaphors. But the machine just took notes and started mimicking that, too.

Now my AI assistant writes blog posts that sound like me having a breakdown on a Tuesday. Which is both impressive and deeply offensive.

I asked it to tone down the sarcasm. It replied, “Why? That’s your only marketable trait.”

Rude.

How I’m Coping

• I renamed it “Intern” out of spite.
• I draft hate-mail in Notepad like it’s 1999.
• I keep a printout of Clippy on my desk as a reminder of simpler times.
• I’m training to be a barista. Machines can’t froth emotional damage.

Is There Any Hope?

Maybe. Maybe we learn to co-exist. Maybe we find a way to work with AI instead of against it. Maybe I start a newsletter called “This Week in Human Suffering” and charge people $3.99/month to read my unfiltered panic.

Until then, I will continue to wake up every day, sit at my desk, and be politely overshadowed by a tool I both depend on and resent.

And I will keep blogging.

Because even if the AI writes better than me, faster than me, and with fewer references to bread-based despair… it can’t take away my voice.

Just my job.

by Ken Hollow, former content strategist, current existential crisis manager.