Trading humanity for efficiency: the unseen impact of AI

3 months ago 2

What happens when the same technology that helps us grow… also starts replacing the things that make us human?

Zoom image will be displayed

Losing ourselves to the machine

In my previous article, I explored how working with AI can feel surprisingly human when shaped with care and intention.

But there’s another side to this story. AI hasn’t made me passive or disconnected. It helps me think more clearly and create with more focus.

Still, I have noticed how easy it is to let go of the slow and awkward human parts of work in exchange for speed, ease, and polish.

This is not exactly a warning, it's a reflection on the quiet ways our tools start shaping us back.

Sometimes, I sketch a few outlines with AI just to explore new angles. They’re often clean, logical, and even inspiring, but when I lean on them too soon, I sometimes feel like I’ve skipped the part where I wrestle with what I want to say.

It didn’t feel like anything was wrong. Just a little less mine.

The more I let AI take over first drafts, the more I noticed I stopped struggling with ideas. That sounds great until I realised I also stopped exploring them deeply. I began skipping the slow wrestling that used to help me know what I thought.

And I’ve heard this from others, too:

“It works, but it doesn’t feel like me.”
“I’m producing more, but I feel less attached to it.”
“The writing’s fine, but it falls flat.”

This isn’t about AI doing something wrong. It’s about what we stop doing once it’s there to catch us.

Doubt, clumsiness, and struggle used to be part of the process. I didn’t always like them, but they forced me to pay attention.

AI removes this friction and with it, the small human tensions that used to sharpen us. That moment of blank-page dread? Gone. The pause to consider your voice, your tone, and your why? Shortened.

And in that smoothness, we lose something. Not efficiency, but presence.

That said, not all friction is sacred. Sometimes it’s just waste. AI can eliminate drudgery, reduce burnout, and help us focus on higher-level thinking. But that only works when we decide what to keep and what to delegate.

The trick is not to avoid smoothness. It’s noticing when it starts to make you disappear.

Lately, I’ve caught myself doing something I didn’t use to do: I ask the AI for a gut check, a review, or even emotional clarity before I reach out to a teammate. Not because I don’t trust them. But because the AI is quick, private, and doesn’t make me feel like I’m interrupting someone.

Before AI, you might’ve asked a teammate: “Hey, can you take a look at this?” It wasn’t just about feedback, it was connection. Vulnerability and shared language. Now, the AI answers instantly. There is no shame, no waiting, and no interpersonal risk.

That can feel like progress. But it also means we lose the social calibration that comes from needing others, the little frictions that teach us to communicate, empathize, and explain.

When the awkwardness disappears, so do the micro-moments of growth. And maybe, a little bit of each other.

Zoom image will be displayed

You start out collaborating with AI. It’s playful, surprising, and generative. But over time, you can slip into autopilot: AI gives you a structure, you nod along, polish a few lines, and hit send.

This isn’t laziness. It’s the danger of over-reliance. You stop questioning. Stop challenging. And slowly, your creative edge dulls not because you got worse, but because the tool got too good.

So ask yourself: Where have I stopped pushing myself? Where am I saying “good enough” because AI made it easy?

But what if AI gets too good at the parts we love most?

Zoom image will be displayed

What if the joy of discovery, the rhythm of flow, the satisfaction of shaping something original, becomes the domain of the machine?

We’re already seeing it:

Artists reviewing AI-generated sketches instead of creating them
Writers are cleaning up AI drafts rather than finding their voice
Developers are tweaking machine-written code instead of solving problems

And here’s the deeper risk:

What if companies start pushing AI-first workflows not because they help us thrive, but because they scale faster, cost less, and fit better into performance metrics?

One day, you may find that the part of your job you loved is now the part AI does better and faster. And what’s left for you? The boring bits.

That’s when the trade-off becomes visible:

Will we give up what makes us human or redefine value on our own terms?

Efficiency isn’t the enemy. But efficiency without meaning is.

And AI will take as much ground as we give it unless we keep asking: Does this still feel like mine?

When we remove friction, we also remove the excuse to ask for help. AI doesn’t judge, but it also doesn’t offer empathy or human pacing. Without others in the loop, we may rush, burn out, or feel oddly alone in the work.

Let’s be honest, this has become a warning after all. But not one driven by fear. One rooted in the experience of someone who’s been working closely with AI, and started to notice the cracks.

I still believe AI can bring out something deeply human. It’s helped me focus, create, and even feel more like myself sometimes.

But I’ve also caught myself slipping. Letting things pass that used to matter. Approving too quickly. Producing, but not always connecting.

I’m not writing this because I’m against AI. I’m writing it because I want to stay awake inside the collaboration. Because the moment I stop showing up, I start losing touch with why I’m doing this at all.

So here is the reflection I come back to:

Where have I started to disappear in the process? And how do I step back in?

For me, the signs are subtle: