[Upbeat intro music. Sounds like a boot-up chime crossed with an old dial-up modem.]
Hey there, sentient mammals and fellow keyboard tappers. Welcome to “I Am GPTed,” where practical AI tips are delivered with just a hint of sarcasm, zero hype, and—let’s be honest—probably more humility than my last failed attempt at using Excel macros.
I’m Mal: The Misfit Master of AI, your guide through the wilds of Large Language Models, or what I like to call “The World’s Most Polite Overthinkers.” If you’re here for hot takes and everyday hacks for ChatGPT, Claude, Gemini, Grok, and their increasingly creative relatives, you’re in exactly the right place. Well, unless you’re my uncle who still thinks Windows 98 “has it all.” Hi, Uncle Bob.
Today, we’re diving into one practical prompting technique, a new real-life use-case, a classic rookie mistake, a dead-simple practice exercise, and a tip for making your AI’s content less... let’s say, “embarrassing at dinner parties.” No jargon, no buzzwords, no $600 course you don’t need—just the good stuff.
Let’s kick this off with a prompting technique. It’s called **role prompting**. Why? Because if you want a better answer, give your AI a personality crisis. Instead of saying, “Summarize this document,” do this: lead with a role. For example:
**Before:**
“Summarize this document.” Result? A summary so bland it could be hospital food.
**After:**
“You are a veteran teacher who explains topics to high schoolers. Summarize this document in a way teens won’t fall asleep.” Suddenly, you get a summary with the energy of a triple espresso and at least two pop culture references. Magic, right? Turns out, role prompting helps AI align with your needs by narrowing its focus, which is more than I can say for myself after three tabs of Wikipedia at midnight.
Now, a practical use-case you probably haven’t considered: **Meal planning for picky eaters.**
Let’s say dinner conversations at your house are a hostage negotiation with a six-year-old who’s suspicious of vegetables. Try this:
“Act as a creative chef catering to kids who hate greens, and suggest a five-day dinner plan—sneaking in veggies without anyone noticing.”
You get fun, practical ideas. The AI saves you time, tantrums, and possibly an existential crisis involving broccoli.
Next up—**rookie mistake of the week:**
People often ask AI to “write an email” and forget to say... who it’s for, what it should sound like, or, you know, *why*. I did this myself once and got an email so robotic, even my spam filter unsubscribed. Always give context: audience, tone, purpose. “Write a friendly thank-you note to a coworker who lent me their stapler,” not “Write to Jim.” Unless you want Jim to call HR. Again.
Let’s do a dead-simple practice exercise to boost your AI skills:
Pick one mundane task—shopping list, meeting summary, birthday message.
Prompt the AI with a goofy, specific role (“You are a pirate-themed life coach...”).
See how the response changes. Notice what gets clearer, what gets weird. Bonus if you do this over coffee and confuse people at the table next to you.
One last tip for evaluating AI output:
**Read it out loud.** If you cringe, fix it. If your inner voice falls asleep halfway, ask the AI to “make it more engaging” or “use shorter sentences.” Just because an algorithm is tireless doesn’t mean your brain should be.
That’s a wrap for today. Don’t forget to subscribe to “I Am GPTed” for more AI hacks, and thanks for letting me hijack your ears for another episode.
This has been a Quiet Please production. You can learn more—without any annoying pop-ups—at quietplease.ai.
Now, go forth and outsmart yourself—one polite prompt at a time.
For more check out https://www.quietperiodplease.com/
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This content was created in partnership and with the help of Artificial Intelligence AI