Decisions, Decisions

The buzz used to be about what it would be like when a device could do something that humans do. It might be assembly line work or mowing the lawn, self-driving cars or self-checkout lines, robotic bartenders or robotic surgeons. The thought was that tasks which were repetitive and precise and physical could be better handled by machines.

Then reality set in and it went from exciting or worrying to merely interesting. Sure, it's cool to watch giant machines spin and twist as they assemble cars, or remote-controlled forklifts race through a warehouse and pluck pallets from shelves. But all are overseen by flesh and blood managers, and computerized devices came to be seen more as high-tech tools and not replacements.

Still, it freed us people to have more time to do what machines couldn't, which was to think and create. And while the ability of computers to ever be able to do the first is up for debate, the second seems to be in play. Story after story has touted how computer-generated responses to queries now can come back not as a list of web sites, but as essays and articles that could plausibly have been written by a person. And so the "will be replaced by robots" cautionary tale of the month is not about humanoid receptionists or robotic security guards, but about artificial intelligence, or A.I.

In and of itself, A.I. is not new. The first use was in 1942, when Alan Turing created a machine to crack the German Enigma code. Breakthroughs continued: the first chatbot appeared in 1964 as MIT's Eliza, followed by ALICE (Artificial Linguistic Internet Computer Entity) in 1995 and IBM's DeepBlue in 1997. That led to Watson, Siri and Alexa as well as your Roomba vacuum cleaner, all of which were cause more of amazement as opposed to alarm. But with the rollout of OpenAI's ChapGPT and Google's Bard, systems which seemingly appear to be able to give human-level cognitive responses without the benefit of opposable thumbs, all of our hair is suddenly on fire.

To be very clear and as stated again and again, these are super sophisticated pattern generators and not independent thinkers. Trained on millions and millions of examples scraped from our world, they put one logical word after another to build up a response. The result mimics human writing and speech, but they are just that: mimics. That's why one of the biggest problems occurs when they are asked to cite their work. The names for web sites have no real logic, and so an A.I. response to your question will give its reference as htttps://web/asksfd723mafp when no such thing exists. Those are called hallucinations, which imply extrapolations from a real base. They could just as easily be called what they are: gibberish.

The question is not so much if A.I. can mimic a human response but rather can it make a human choice. Every day we make countless decisions about our actions: whether to get out of bed when the alarm rings, which route to take to work, which emails to respond to and which to ignore. You've made a several in the past 60 seconds, merely by deciding to read this piece and even to keep going this far. In fact, scientists at Cornell say we make 221 decisions each day just about food. And while you may enlist a computer's guidance for any or all of those choices, odds are you won't be ceding final authority on those to a machine.

And even if you did? Research commissioned by the psychology-based app Noom says that you won't buy it anyways, that the choices we make are hardly carved in stone. We second (and even third and fourth) guess what we select. The study found that the average adult admits to changing their mind twice per decision, with more than 11% doing so five or more times. That goes for what to watch on TV, what to wear and what to buy (or not).

It would seem that the key for A.I. to appear human is not so much to be intelligent as to be indecisive. That's why the tell as to whether "to be or not to be" was written by Siri or Shakespeare might turn out to be not that Hamlet couldn't pose the question, but that he couldn't make up his mind.

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Marc Wollin of Bedford changed his mind more than a few times writing this. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.

Stressed

Depending on your age, health and a variety of other factors, your doctor might think it is a prudent move for you to have a stress test. The idea is to see how your body performs under heavy load conditions. They put you on a treadmill and slowly crank up the speed and incline, forcing you to work harder and harder. As your heart beats more and more, a doctor monitors your EKG to make sure all is working as expected. Harder than usual perhaps, but hopefully staying the course by pumping blood and not freaking out.

In theory this is no different to what they do for banks. Put in place on a widespread basis after the 2008 financial crisis, the idea of a financial stress test is to make sure that institutions could withstand a situation that was beyond day-to-day normal and not falter. As time has gone on, the tests have gotten more involved, and currently encompass pushing 28 variables outside of everyday ranges, including hits to the real estate and equity markets, declines in personal and corporate incomes, and rises in the unemployment rate and national debt. All those possibles and more are loaded into a simulator, along with a bank's assets and liabilities. Then they press "play" and see what happens. 

In the first case you see what controlled physical exertion can do to your ticker. In the second, it's what preset statistical outliers can do to your account. Seems to make sense. But there's a weak spot, and it was highlighted in the recent collapses of Silicon Valley, Signature and Republic, as well as the most recent troubles at Pac West and Western Alliance. It turns out that the real world is rarely that neat. Or more specifically, while the technical measures played a part, it was the human factors that caused the problems. 

That's because on a purely mathematical level, the numbers might work out. There might be enough deposits to cover withdrawals, there are cross-lending arrangements with other institutions, and there are federal programs to backstop unintended issues. But what the scenarios don't account for is emotion and wishful thinking and the ability of a depositor base with smartphones to move their money in an instant. 

Our always on, always connected society has made the real-world test to be as much about perception as reality. It's not that the underlying fundamentals are not important, it's just that factors having nothing to do with empirical measures can shoulder aside hard data. The result is that the speed with which a rumor, aspersion or whisper travels can negate the actual bottom line. While attributed to Mark Twain and others, it was first put succinctly by Jonathan Swift in 1710: "Falsehood flies, and the Truth comes limping after it."

That's not to say that there weren't issues in the aforementioned institutions. Given a few more news cycles orderly plans might have been able to be put into place to negate the meltdowns. But once it made it beyond an article in Banking Quarterly and into a Twitter feed, it was just matter of time before the flood gates broke and a flood of "Ready to transfer funds?" pop-ups popped up.

With that in mind it might be more realistic if the tests were broadened to encompass the kinds of factors that occur in today's environment. Sure, the GDP forecast might tick down, but how would your bank handle it if there was a Twitter post that it was backed by Russia?  Or that your credit union financed the local Proud Boys chapter? Or that every bill you pay electronically is secretly funneled through a Chinese hacker organization? Mind you, there might be absolutely no veracity to any of the claims, but what has that got to do with anything? 

Perhaps we should extend the concept of real-world factors beyond just finance to our own health. While you are on that treadmill, maybe your doctor could play a tape of your kids fighting. Or make your cell phone's "you've got mail" alert ping repeatedly, and not let you answer.  Or hand you a notice that your company was just acquired by Elon. If none of those make your heart swell and burst, you should be good for another couple of years. You can only hope your bank is in the same shape.

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Marc Wollin of Bedford tries to avoid stress, at least at home. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.

Better on Top

May 1 is always a momentous marker on the calendar, but the one just passed had special significance. For sure it's the day that annually commemorates the struggles and gains made by the labor movement. Historically it was the day the U2 plane was shot down over Russia, the polio vaccine was made available to the public and the Empire State building was dedicated. And because this year it fell on a Monday, it was also the night of the Met Gala, the annual bash that celebrates all things related to fashion. 

But that all pales in relation to the really big news that broke. Not about JP Morgan buying First Republic, the latest attacks in Ukraine or even that the Super Mario Brothers Movie became the 10th animated film to earn $1 billion. In an announcement that all but flew under the radar, Costco confirmed that their food courts will once again stock chopped onions.

As with many things, the all-you-could eat topping was a victim of a combination of factors, with the pandemic and supply chain issues topping the list. There was angst from the huddled masses at the removal, a groundswell of support for its return, and hosannas when the news finally broke. But it pointed to a passion that many of us harbor: often it is not about the food, but about the condiment.

After all, a slice of pizza isn't complete unless it is obscured under a heavy sprinkling of hot peppers, garlic, oregano and heaps of parmesan. A bowl of chili is barely consumable until it is piled with a covering of jalapenos, hot sauce and grated Colby. And while the aforementioned onions were usually directed at the Kirkland All-Beef frank that was the base, I for one don't consider a hot dog worthy of consumption unless it sports mustard, relish and sauerkraut. And then it is very worthy indeed.

Each of those toppings fits the technical requirement for a condiment as opposed to an ingredient. In general that means it goes on top of food after it is cooked to enhance or supplement the flavor. While often a sauce-like preparation, it can be any liquid or solid that is its own foodstuff. That's not to say that a condiment can't be used in cooking: soy sauce can be part of a marinade, or mayonnaise can be used in macaroni salad. Another view comes from Pizza Loves Emily's executive chef Matt Hyland, who says that consistency helps to define it: "A condiment needs to be thinner than guacamole but no thicker than ranch."  The consensus and defining characteristic seems to be that if the consumer adds it to the dish as opposed to the cook, it generally makes the cut.

And sprinkle/pour/slather/dribble it on we do. The total US market is about $200 billion and expected to grow at more than 5% a year. Put on a more personal scale, every man woman and child in the country spends about $31 a year on toppings, and that's expected to double to about $64 by 2027. Any way you look at it, that's a lot of ketchup on your burgers.

But while the aforementioned tomato king is part of the Big Five which are the bedrocks of the category (mayonnaise, ranch, ketchup, hot sauce and mustard), growth is expected to be in international flavors. With Sriracha showing that there is room on the table next to Hellmann's and Heinz, we're seeing new and more exotic accents grabbing for a toehold. There's Poi Dog Guava Katsu, a Hawaiian inspired thick brown sauce with the sweetness of guava. Or Epis, a green, herbaceous, sharp and spicy sauce best described as the Haitian equivalent of Argentinian chimichurri. Or Chili Crunch, a blend of Mexican chiles, fried garlic and shallots, sesame seeds, and shiitake powder. That there is a world of flavor in your mouth.

Whether any of these will elicit the fandom that occurred with the Costco crowd remains to be seen. In the meantime, visitors to that establishment will once again be able to top their dogs as they wish, save for the fact they will now have to request an individual cup of chopped onions vs. self-serve as before. The same, yet different: and so the next battle begins.

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Marc Wollin of Bedford is a spicy brown mustard guy. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online a, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.

You Had To Be There

No matter how much you plan, when you travel you have to always be ready to pivot. Weather, overbooking, equipment issues: any of them can derail your carefully crafted itinerary. And while there is no good time on a journey to be hit with a ripple, this was perhaps the worst. I was about to board the first short feeder flight on my journey home from California when up popped an email that my second flight, the cross country leg, had been cancelled.

Having been in this situation before, I've learned that while the airline will automatically rebook you, the faster you move the more options you have. Otherwise, while they will eventually reroute you, it is rarely the most efficient way. In practice that likely meant that, without my intervention, by the time I landed some computer would have assigned me a 3-stop routing via Miami that got me home a week later.

I stepped out of line, pulled up the app, scanned the available alternatives and picked one. It whirred and spun, then blinked and came back: no longer available. I tried another with the same result. A third and a fourth also came up blank. As I suspected it was a race, and I was losing. Finally, a hit. True, it added another leg westward before turning around, landed the next morning vs. that night, and got me into JFK vs. Newark where my car was parked. But it was better than nothing.

Once on board and connected to wifi I was able to keep trolling alternatives, but none of the automatically generated ones were better. I saw some other possibilities but they would require a human to override the system. So when I landed, I hurried to the service line, joining at least 30 people in front of me. I also punched the chat button on the app, and to complete the trifecata, dialed the assistance line. I plugged my phone into my backup battery and inched forward in the line.

Twenty or so minutes later the chat line came to life. Sanjit in India took my info and quizzed the system. No, it didn't look like he could do any better; he suggested the in-person agents (now just 10 people away from me) might have better luck. Another twenty minutes and this time it was my call broke that through. I explained my situation to Mike, who tapped into his terminal. As he was doing that I was called up. Ellen the gate agent stared at me and said "You gonna talk to me for them?" I replied "I'm on with one of your people! Do you have better access than they do?" She shrugged her shoulders as Mike came back on to say he could do nothing. Good riddance Sanjit, farewell Mike: Ellen, you are my last hope.

She keyed in my info, but in the interim other possibilities had evaporated. I tried one last Hail Mary: there was a flight down the concourse to JFK leaving in 10 minutes: could I standby on that? Sold out, of course, but sure, I could standby. But only the gate could actually confirm if they had seats. She added my name to the list, and off I ran.

When I got there they were making final boarding announcements and tagging extra bags, but the gate agent took my info and punched it in. Whether due to my status or tickets or a wink from the airline gods, my name was at the top of the list. She scribbled a note on a strip of scrap paper and told me to wait. She went down the ramp and disappeared into the plane while I cooled my heels. A few moments later she came back, worked her terminal, then handed me a boarding pass. I knew I was tempting fate, but asked her what she done. She looked at me like I was an idiot, then said, "I went on and looked if we had any empty seats." 

An app. An agent in India. A call center in Dallas. An agent mid-concourse. And it still came down to a single person walking onto the plane and counting heads. For all the technology and remote access and cloud computing, sometimes you just have to be there.

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Marc Wollin of Bedford has on balance had few major travel mishaps. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.