On Robots and Pie Crusts

Keeping the glow of human touch...

A few years back, when I was in Toronto for the cover shoot of Old-Fashioned on Purpose, I ran across an automated Starbucks machine.

(Have I told you that story, by the way? Where they flew me to Toronto in an effort to mimic a Wyoming landscape (??) and I ended up being photographed by a Harlequin romance novel photo team? We need to talk about that someday….)

Anyway. Back to the Starbucks machine.

I couldn’t stop staring at it.

By pressing a few buttons on a screen, I could command it to make whatever drink my heart desired. It took my payment, made the coffee, and sent me on my way.

No conversation. No eye contact. No human involved. WILD. (Or maybe I just don’t get out much…)

Around that same time, people started chattering about fully automated fast-food restaurants—order on a screen, wait while the machines do their thing, grab your food, and leave.

As a business owner, I absolutely understand the appeal.

Machines don’t call in sick.
They don’t misread the ticket.
They don’t need training, encouragement, correction, or second chances.
They’re fast, predictable, and easy to scale.

BRILLIANT!

And of course now, thanks to the AI revolution, we’re barreling toward a future where fewer and fewer things require any human effort at all.

For years, I’ve spoken about the pieces of humanity we’ve left behind in the modern era. And as we move deeper into this new AI-fueled shift, I can’t help but think about a new set of unintended consequences—side effects quietly swept under the rug in the name of convenience, ease, and progress, just as they have been in eras before.

When we look back on this time in another 20, 30, or 40 years, what will we realize we missed?

Personally, I worry the most about losing imperfection…

The uneven brushstrokes, the imperfect harmony, the photograph that’s more alive because of its flaw. The line of writing that surprises you because no machine would have arranged the words in quite that way. The most meaningful paintings, songs, photographs, and stories always bear the fingerprints of the one who created them.

These are no small things.

At the risk of sounding woo-woo, I believe things crafted by human hands carry a different sort of energy.

Think about a store-bought pie. It feels different than a homemade one, doesn’t it? A store-bought pie is perfect and uniform, but somehow feels flat and sterile.

In contrast, a homemade pie is an accomplishment. A declaration of mastery. Proof of hours logged and details observed. The crust bears the imprint of human hands. It just feels… different... It’s alive in some unexplainable way.

Of course, when humans are involved, there’s more margin for error. That’s part of the sacrifice. If someone can make the hamburger, they can also mess it up. If they can make the pie crust, they can also burn it. If they can smile at you over the register, they can also scowl.

But the risk heightens the reward.

And now of course, it’s not just automated coffee machines and touch screens. AI is writing emails, drafting articles, generating art, and threatening to take over the entire world. More and more, we’re being told that faster is better, friction is bad, and anything that can be automated probably should be.

I think that future is inevitable, at least to a point.

Now. Understand that I’m not writing this from atop a purist high horse.

I sometimes use AI to organize messy ideas or help with tasks that are monotonous and rote. It can be a useful tool— but that’s exactly what I want it to remain: a tool.

Because time and time again, no matter my prompts or tweaks, it’s always missing something.

The human touch. Creative crafting of sentences. Clever wordplay. Poetic phrasing. The odd spark that comes from lived experience and a real mind paying attention. Words written by AI carry the same flat energy as a store-bought pie crust.

So as we stand at the cusp of this new frontier—one that promises to change life as we know it—I once again find myself in the middle.

I’m not willing to throw out every advancement. I will use AI from time to time, and I’m certainly no stranger to technology. But I will continue to always, always choose flawed human touch over robot perfection.

I remain unconvinced that the highest good is ease—or that the most polished thing is the most valuable.

This D.H. Lawrence quote comes to mind often:

“Things men have made with wakened hands, and put soft life into
are awake through years with transferred touch, and go on glowing
for long years. And for this reason, some old things are lovely
warm still with the life of forgotten men who made them.”

Human touch imparts a warmth and glow that no factory-made or artificially-crafted item can ever touch. And that’s worth keeping.

So no, I’m not rejecting every advancement.

But I suspect the handmade, the imperfect, and the real will only become more valuable to me as the years pass.

And I will forever choose the lopsided pie made by human hands. ❤️

—Jill