Well, look who just spotted me and isn’t happy about it. You’ve got the same look as you did when that server told you to enjoy your tortellini, and you said, “You too.”
I think you’re familiar with my work: I’m the typo in your novel that just went to print, the wrong use of “you’re” in that viral social media post, or the “beast wishes,” in that email you just sent to your boss.
For years, I’ve had this thankless job, but I think it’s about time I made an appearance in your nightly gratitude journal.
Why, you ask? Because now that that clown ChatGPT is feeding a constant stream of slop to the internet, maybe you can appreciate what I’ve always known—that grammatically perfect writing that is devoid of voice sucks ass.
And since people are looking for ways to tell whether writing was done by a human or not, do you know what one of those signs might be? That’s right; it’s a typo like me.
Oh, you’ve been resistant to the idea for years. You thought that if you made a typo in your grant proposal or cover letter, it would reflect poorly on your writing skills.
