“Hello, I am a chatbot…”, was its opening gambit. Within two sentences, the AI robot assistant missed most of the details and all the nuances of the problem. I picked up the phone to the local bike shop, which was a much better idea. Earlier in the day, I’d enjoyed two actual, real-life conversations, which had both been infinitely more productive than the remote “bot” chat.
When I worked in mixed practice, she came with me on my visits, looking out of the car window expectantly. On some days, she missed out on a proper walk, but other times a spare fifteen minutes on the moors or near the woods, lent itself to a lovely and varied life for a vet’s dog. Now, the walks are more predictable but less varied. But a quick blast towards the beck never fails to satiate her needs. Mr Dawson was out, with his rickety spaniel.