Who Cares If AI Helped Write It?

​I remember when people said the internet was a fad.

Some people embraced it early. Others dismissed it completely.

“People will never buy things online.”

“Clients will still want everything done the traditional way.”

“This whole thing is overhyped.”

Now it’s hard to imagine life without it.

Just look outside. Amazon trucks are everywhere. Ordering something online has become so normal that we barely think about it anymore. We’re practically on a first-name basis with the Amazon drivers who deliver to our house.

What once felt disruptive simply became part of everyday life.

I think we’re going through that same kind of moment again with AI.

​Honestly, I understand why people are skeptical.

One of the biggest complaints I hear is that AI-generated content feels fake, generic, and inauthentic. I would agree in some cases.

I’ve heard several clients scoff at LinkedIn lately.

“Everything on there is written by AI now, so what’s the point of even reading it?”

I understand the frustration, yet my reaction is usually pretty simple: who cares whether AI helped write it?

What I care about is whether the message was relevant, helpful, or made me think differently about something.

That’s what matters.

Some articles are thoughtful. Some are terrible. Some social media posts are insightful. Others add no value at all. That’s always been true, long before AI showed up.

You can usually tell when someone copied and pasted something without adding any real perspective behind it. It sounds polished, but empty.

The problem isn’t really the technology itself. The real issue is whether the person using it is bringing any judgment, creativity, or original thinking to the table.

It reminds me a little of what happened in the music industry years ago.

Traditional musicians used to criticize electronic music producers because they weren’t “playing” music in the conventional sense. Drum machines replaced drummers. Digital software replaced full bands. Synthesizers changed the sound completely.

Yet some incredible music still came out of it.

The tools changed, but creativity didn’t disappear.

A mediocre musician with expensive software still produces mediocre music.

A thoughtful musician can use technology to create something great.

I think AI works the same way.

A shallow professional using AI will produce shallow work faster.

A thoughtful professional can use it to sharpen ideas, prepare better questions, summarize research faster, and create more time for the things that matter most: relationships, judgment, strategy, and trust.

That’s the part I think people are missing.

The professionals who learn how to use AI thoughtfully are probably going to operate differently from those who refuse to engage with it at all.

That’s not because AI replaces expertise. It’s because client expectations are already changing. Clients expect faster responses, better preparation, more personalization, and sharper insights than they did even a few years ago.

At the same time, I don’t think human relationships suddenly matter less because technology is improving. If anything, they may matter more.

When so much content starts sounding the same, people pay closer attention to original thinking and genuine perspective. They remember the professionals who ask thoughtful questions, communicate clearly, and bring real judgment to the conversation.

Anyone can generate an email now. Not everyone can build a trusted relationship over twenty years.

Like many of you, I’m still figuring all of this out myself. Some days, AI feels exciting. Other days, it feels overwhelming how quickly things are changing. Still, I’ve realized something important: ignoring AI doesn’t slow it down. It just slows down your ability to adapt to it.

Twenty years from now, I think we’ll probably look back on this moment the same way we now look back at the early days of the internet.

The question won’t be whether AI mattered.

The question will be whether we were curious enough to learn how to use it while everything was still evolving.