I’ve spent years writing about the intersection of technology, culture, and policy. When social media is increasingly used to create events, rather than report on them, I find that work increasingly relevant.
It is one thing to write an essay here or a newsletter there. Given the potential harms, utilizing adding additional forms, like narrative, seems warranted. General American is a seven-part short story about a fast foot crew suddenly confronted with a corporate AI that threatens their erasure.
A new installment will be published daily. Additional info, like the accompanying playlist, can be found at the Stories page.
~Matthew
Scene 3 - The Qualming
The day Jamal broke SpudBud, it had already spent hours correcting him.
Working the window that day, he got no fewer than three reprimands, delivered via text, haptic annoyance, and a side of fry puns.
Jamal liked calling people “boss”. It broke the tension; maybe won a smile. But today his greeting of, “Afternoon, boss! How we livin’ today?” was chastised via text in his glasses. “[[GREETING FLAGGED: Overt Intimacy]] Hey, partner! Let's keep our greetings *crisp* and *professional*.”
When certain thresholds were exceeded or the offense was particularly egregious, the headset buzzed. The physical “coaching”.
All the guest heard was, “Good afternoon. How can I serve you today?” Said in a flat, neutral, and passively-aggressive Midwestern accent.
Then there was the time he tried confirming an order.
“I gotchu. One double-cheese, no onion. That’ll be twelve-fifty when you pull ‘round and see me at the window, k?”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he cringed involuntarily.
”[[GRAMMAR ALERT: Syllabic Loss]] Eyes on the fries, Jamal! Your grammar is looking a little lumpy!”
Buzz.
In his headset, the version the customer heard was replayed, limp and distant. “I understand. One Double-Cheese Sandwich, without onions. Your total is twelve dollars and fifty cents. Please proceed to the first window.”
Jamal got the shift’s final slight as they were about to close. The customer was craving a late-night treat. They asked Jamal which of the shakes was his favorite.
“Honestly?” Jamal thought for a moment before continuing, “I prefer a classic strawberry without the whip or sprinkles - it still hits the spot. All the other stuff can be a bit too sweet for me.”
”[[LOGGED FOR PERFORMANCE REVIEW: Sabotage]] Yikes! Every menu item is a ‘Flavor Champ', Jamal! The drive-thru isn't the place for *hashing* out our personal opinions!”
The headset buzzed. Twice.
“You can’t go wrong with any of our SnowCream Shakers,” the guest heard. “Would you like to make that a meal?”
Before taking off the headset, SpudBud summarized his shift. His glasses flashed the text, “[[PERFORMANCE NOTE: Greeting compliance up 12%. Keep up the improvement, Jamal!]]”.
Jamal hung the headset on his charging hook, on the wall above the register, and slumped against the tiled counter. He rubbed his temples, but the red warning letters were still there, floating in his peripheral vision.
