I came to Cleveland, Ohio, and celebrated the 50th anniversary of the National Association of Black Journalists (NABJ) conference. I was hoping the hallways would be bustling with conversations about AI, but they weren't, but not in the way I wanted it to. During the first two days, the phrase I most heard from my fellow journalists was “We must protect ourselves.” In the post-session session, AI was a danger, a threat, and the enemy would replace us.
I then had breakfast at Betts, and in a hotel restaurant, one conversation with the waiter gave me another perspective on the AI revolution.
When he brought me the bill, I asked 49-year-old Kevin Knestrick if he used AI. I was plagued by the horrifying rhetoric from the convention, so I was hoping he would either reject me or start an anti-Tirade.
“Not,” he replied carefully, then paused. “In fact,” he continued. “It was the first time I used it when I changed the menu. I took a photo and uploaded it to ChatGpt, asked me to copy the text and prepare a message for my colleagues.
As he relaxed, he called his younger colleague, Jamie Sargent, 31, and introduced him to another young colleague, Dowd Hamza, 37. “You should talk to these people,” he said. “They use it more.”
He was right. For Hamzah and Sargent, it quickly became clear that ChatGpt is a part of everyday life. They don't see it as a threat.
Power User
In the case of Hamzah, a bartender for Betts and a young motivating speaker who founded his own empowerment association, Hype (helps build excellence), ChatGpt effectively replaced Google.
“I use it to build a solid, structured PowerPoint presentation for conversational engagement with students,” he told me. However, its use goes far beyond his professional life. He is a travel planner, health advisor and personal coach.
“I just used it for my woman's birthday,” he said. “I said, 'I want something to relax with vegan-friendly food'” It gave me all the itineraries, an incredible itinerary. “When the back issues flare up, he turned to the chatbot for help. “We asked to offer specific home workouts and mobility exercises to ease the pressure from the degenerative disc on our back.
Did it work? “Yes!” he replied.
Sargent, a former special education teacher, has been using ChatGPT since its launch in late 2022. He used it to generate baseline lesson plans and focused on adjusting content to the individual needs of each student.
“I saved about an hour of time writing lesson plans,” he said. I asked him if he felt like cheating. “No, I would have done the same thing that it did. It did it faster than I could.” He dismisses the idea that teachers shouldn't use it. “I think that's nonsense. We've been working on our own for hours outside the classroom. If we can make it faster, the better.”
Like Hamza, Sargent is also an avid travel planner, using ChatGpt to map complex international holidays. “My brother and I planned a trip from Milan to Florence and Naples to Italy. They showed me a map that basically means getting a train from here and gave me a good restaurant to go to.
Both men have a practical view of the future of AI. They believe that their jobs will be lost, but they believe that it is with the individual that they will adapt. “If you don't learn, develop and adjust, you'll fail because you won't stop,” Hamza argued. Sgt. agreed, adding that the key is to focus on what makes you human. “I'm part of the experience, but AI isn't part of that experience. Find a way to distinguish yourself from AI and make yourself worthwhile.”
Careful converts
Kevin, who was first introduced to the group, represents a different demographic journey into AI. His use came from pure need. “I was taking the time to bring this menu to the printer,” he recalls. AI solved the problem in seconds.
That single, an incredibly effective interaction, turned him from a non-user to a curious convert. “Now I'm much more open to the issues I have. I'm going to ask that now,” he told me.
His regret over missing out on the Bitcoin boom made me wonder if AI could be a tool to help “little guys” gain an advantage in investing. “I think it comes from a generation where all the fat cats on Wall Street make money, but our little ones are just crushed,” he said. “Why aren't we no longer small guys?”
Their manager, Curtis Helser (56), also introduced ChatGpt by his wife about a year ago. He uses it to refine important work emails, shorter and more specialized. He is not afraid of it, and sees it as a tool that can be used for good and sickness, like a car. And he doesn't worry about his work. “You have to be in the building,” he said with a laugh. “Kissing a baby, shaking hands, and that's what it is.”
I was stunned. In the restaurant, AI was not a scary enemy. If it was incomplete, it was convenient. Young employees were fully embraced, while older generations were more cautious, yet still open and integrated into their lives at their own pace. They view current panic as a film they saw before, recalling the horror that comes with the rise of personal computers.
The contrast with my colleagues at the journalism convention was tough. Perhaps we, who build our work on information creation and control, see AI as an existential threat, and those who serve people see it as just another tool to get the job done. I realized that the real AI revolution was not happening in the headlines and panic-filled convention halls. In conversations like this, there is one practical problem at a time.
