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HUMANITYRELATIONSHIPSSOCIETY

The Impact of AI on Human Interactions

When the AI never makes you wait, the humans in your life start to feel slower.

Sahir Maharaj smiling in glasses and a deep blue embroidered jacket10 min read
A smartphone lying face down on a wooden table beside a steaming coffee cup in warm morning light
The AI never makes you wait. And quietly, that's reset what we expect from each other.

I realized something was shifting when I caught myself feeling slightly annoyed that a colleague had not responded to an email within two hours. Not a critical email. Not something time-sensitive. Just a routine message that, in any previous era of my working life, I would have expected a response to within a day or two and thought nothing of it. But I have been using an AI assistant long enough now that my sense of what a reasonable response time looks like has been recalibrated by a system that is instantaneous. The AI never makes me wait. It never has competing priorities that put my query at the back of a queue. And somewhere in the gap between what the AI delivers and what humans deliver, something in my expectations of other people has quietly shifted. I do not think I am alone in this.

AI personal assistants have become genuinely woven into daily life for a significant and growing portion of the working world. They schedule meetings, draft correspondence, synthesize information, manage to-do lists, and handle the administrative overhead that used to consume hours of a professional's week. The productivity case is real and well-documented. People who use these tools effectively report meaningful increases in the amount of high-value work they can accomplish, and meaningful decreases in the low-value overhead that used to crowd it out. On the face of it, that sounds unambiguously good. But the face of it is not the whole picture.

What is happening beneath the surface, in the texture of our relationships with colleagues, friends, and even ourselves, is less clearly positive and considerably less discussed. When AI handles more of our communication, what changes about the communication that remains? When efficiency becomes the default register of our interactions, what happens to the inefficient parts of human connection that turn out to be the parts that matter most?

A handwritten letter on cream linen paper beside a vintage fountain pen in soft window light
There is a kind of presence in writing to someone yourself that no model has figured out how to copy.

The genuine productivity benefits of AI personal assistants are worth taking seriously before complicating them, because they are real and in many cases transformative. The administrative burden of modern professional life is genuinely enormous and genuinely costly to human attention. The average knowledge worker spent a significant portion of their working week on tasks that required time and cognitive overhead but added little distinctive value: scheduling coordination, email triage, summary writing, research aggregation, meeting preparation. AI assistants that handle this layer of overhead give people something genuinely scarce and valuable, time and mental space for the work they actually care about.

There is also an accessibility dimension that does not get enough attention. For people with certain disabilities, cognitive differences, or executive function challenges, AI personal assistants are not a productivity optimization. They are an enabling technology that makes professional life navigable in ways it was not before. Someone who struggles with the organizational overhead of managing a complex calendar, synthesizing large amounts of written information, or drafting formal communications that meet professional norms, may find in AI assistance the scaffolding that allows them to bring their genuine capabilities to bear without being defeated by the administrative layer.

At its best, AI assistance does something that all good tools do: it makes the human using it more fully themselves. A musician who does not have to tune their own instrument by ear has more energy for the music. A writer whose research is organized by an AI has more time in the particular quality of attention that writing actually requires. The argument for AI personal assistants, made honestly, is not that they replace what is distinctively human about professional work. It is that they clear away the parts that were never distinctively human to begin with, leaving more room for the parts that are.

An empty cafe table with two cups of coffee and two empty chairs across from each other in warm morning sunlight
A lot of what looked like overhead was quietly doing relational work the whole time.

Here is the uncomfortable part. A lot of what AI personal assistants are most efficient at handling is the ambient communication that, while it looks like overhead, is actually doing relational work at the same time. When I write a quick email to a colleague checking in on a project, I am not only transferring information. I am also signaling that I am thinking about them, that our collaboration matters to me. When an AI drafts that email, or when I use AI so efficiently that I stop sending those check-ins because the information is captured elsewhere, the relational signal disappears along with the overhead. The colleague gets fewer messages. The project may run just as smoothly. But something in the fabric of the working relationship has changed, and it has changed in a direction that tends to feel like efficiency from the inside and something colder from the outside.

There is research on this, and while it is still early, the direction is worth paying attention to. Studies of remote and hybrid workplaces have found that the relationships that sustain most easily are the ones with enough incidental contact to feel warm, not just the ones that are most productive. The coffee machine conversation that serves no agenda. The email that starts with a line about the weekend before getting to business. The response that takes a moment to acknowledge the difficulty of what the other person is dealing with. These interactions have always been considered slightly inefficient by the standards of pure task completion. They are also the connective tissue of working relationships, and they are exactly the kind of thing that AI assistance, used without awareness, tends to gradually optimize away.

And there is a more personal dimension worth naming. When we delegate more of our communication to AI, we spend less time in the actual practice of putting our thoughts into words for another person. Writing to someone, really writing, is a form of presence. It requires you to think about who they are, what they know, what they need to understand, how they are likely to receive what you are saying. That practice, repeated over a professional lifetime, builds a kind of relational and communicative intelligence that atrophies when it goes unused. The worry is not that AI will write slightly generic emails on our behalf. The worry is that over time, we slowly lose the habit of the real thing.

A single empty wooden armchair by a tall window with soft golden afternoon light and an open notebook resting on the seat
Not every reply needs to be instant. Some things are worth the few extra minutes.

The answer to this is not to stop using AI personal assistants. That would be a bit like arguing against calculators on the grounds that mental arithmetic builds cognitive strength, technically true and practically beside the point. The answer is to develop a much more deliberate relationship with what we delegate and what we keep, and to be honest with ourselves about the difference between tasks that are genuinely routine and tasks that are doing relational work we might not consciously notice. Scheduling a meeting between two people who already know each other well is genuinely routine. Checking in on a colleague who is navigating a difficult project is not, even when it looks like a three-line email.

There is also a case for actively maintaining some inefficiency as a form of relational investment. Not every interaction needs to be optimized. Not every response needs to arrive in the minimum possible time. The colleague who gets back to you a day later with a response that feels genuinely considered, that references something you said in a way that indicates they actually read and thought about it, is doing something more valuable than the colleague whose AI sends a prompt and well-structured reply within minutes. Slowing down in specific contexts, reserving actual human attention for the communications that warrant it, is not a failure to adopt best practices. It is a choice about what kind of relationships you want to have.

I still use my AI assistant every day. I am not going to pretend the time it saves me is not real. But I think about my grandmother's letters, handwritten, specific, dense with the particular texture of a mind attending to another mind across distance and time, and I notice the distance between that kind of communication and the fluent, slightly frictionless outputs that AI generates. Both are communication. But they are not the same thing, and knowing the difference, and making choices accordingly, seems like one of the more important habits to develop in a world where the efficient option is always available and the human option requires a small act of will.

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