“Whaddya mean $1.37?!” a wiry haired, bespectacled customer asked a sixteen-year-old, unindicted co-conspirator in the price-fixing conspiracy that the old man has dreamed up for a can of Campbell’s Cream of Mushroom soup. “It was $1.22, just last week.”
‘I know you’re angry sir,’ I think noting the veins protruding on the man’s nose, and the ruddy complexion, that seem indigenous to those that that have a favorite bar stool. ‘And I know you’re dying to tell anyone who will listen (or is forced to listen) but Eddie, the red headed cashier, has a lot less to do with Target’s “outrageous” price schemes than you think. And as much as you’d like to think your eyes are open to this issue, Target does not add anything to Eddie’s wage if he is able to add your fifteen cents to their profit margin. The trouble Eddie has counting back your change should provide enough evidence that Eddie is not involved in the determinations made on shipping and handling costs; the amount of state and federal taxes imposed on this product; or the mushroom-marketing cooperative’s decision on the costs of manufacturing. It’s also reasonable to suspect that the diatribe that you’ve obviously rehearsed in the mirror about the effect the improving economies in Latin America could have on the price of mushrooms, if their production of mushrooms proves to increase at the rate some project, will be lost on everyone involved once your transaction with Eddie is concluded.
‘You may believe that this face of Target, this sixteen-year-old, named Eddie, knows full well what’s going on, but one look at his blanker-than-usual expression should tell you all that you need to know. Unfortunately, you are an informed consumer, and you feel the need to give him your what for.
‘The sixteen-year-old can do nothing about it, however, and you will likely be considered what they call a moron for arguing with the sixteen-year-old in the first place.The sixteen-year-old will, likely, not care that you have this complaint, and he will likely forget all about your informed complaint the minute the transaction is complete. He’s not going to tell his boss, and his boss is not going to tell his boss, and there will be no boardroom discussion focusing on your complaint regarding the rising cost of a can of cream of mushroom soup. Move along!
***
I’ve been on the other side of this complaint, I think we all have once or twice. The price does not match the price listed in the aisle.
“Price check, can of soup!” Billy shouts over the intercom. Don’t they have scanners now? Why do we have to call Larry? I know we’re supposed to fear, be intimidated by, and hate artificial intelligence (A.I.). We’re supposed to do whatever we can to prevent its intrusion into our daily lives, and we want to avoid the progression to artificial general intelligence (A.G.I.) and artificial super intelligence (A.S.I.). When I’m standing in the middle of the aisle waiting for Billy’s communication to reach Larry and Larry communicate his findings back to Billy, and I’m standing there for thirteen minutes, I start to wonder if human intelligence (H.I.) is still cutting it.
When that guy sits there at the stoplight, right behind a guy who won’t turn on red, even when I can’t see a car coming, I start to wonder if some fully autonomous, some SAE Level five vehicles aren’t the way to go here. If they’re programmed to turn right on red, when it’s obviously clear, and they’re programmed to drive an agreed upon speed, I say bring them on.
I know there are numerous scary possibilities regarding AI, but they all said the same thing about the internet. They say the same thing about most technological advances. There are always kinks, damages, and more from the internet and there will be from AI. It’s kind of our job to inhibit it, but if we can work together to smooth those things out, there are some elements of AI that I would welcome.
