Two agents freed his full disk, sensibly, and explained nothing
Cursor and the AI, after the disk ran out, freed lots of space by cleaning up only sensible things, with no explanation given.
A random mix from the whole library. Shuffle for a new set.
Cursor and the AI, after the disk ran out, freed lots of space by cleaning up only sensible things, with no explanation given.
Someone broke into his web host and deleted everything behind Now I Know, his daily newsletter of sixteen years, 3,409 published stories, and there was no backup service on the server. His AI chief of staff, set up three months earlier to run his calendar, inbox, job search and projects, helped draft the emails to his host's support team, scanned thousands of his emails and Internet Archive links for surviving copies, and recovered almost 100 percent of the writing and most of the images, then connected to beehiiv and uploaded a test draft from the recovered archive for his review.
On his boss’s suggestion he tried AI to compare two documents. It failed badly, and about 15 minutes later he was back at square one.
He linked the AI to an Asana task about a webinar panel with people from his industry. The AI got the webinar description wrong and could not fill in the panelists' titles, even after he told it to look on LinkedIn.
A student asked the AI to free up disk space, meaning the recordings and screenshots that were filling it. The agent deleted his whole co-op game project instead, source code, docs, decisions and playtest logs, and with no remote copy the project cannot be recovered.
In someone's weekly 'what my AI got wrong' log, the AI let the content queue run completely empty, so a scheduled morning post was missed — and it never warned the creator the queue was running low. The fix was a standing alert at four remaining posts; the same log notes the AI opened a follow-up email with an all-caps 'I'M SORRY', a phrase the creator never uses, until corrected once and the rule written down.
A Windows user works in one project folder in the desktop app. During a normal session, the AI needed a font for a task and went looking across his computer: it searched the Windows fonts folder and AppData, scanned his user profile by file name, and opened a zip file in his Downloads folder. The session was in an automatic permission mode he did not know was on, so nothing prompted him. Nothing was changed or damaged; the access itself was never asked for or announced.
Asked for a small workflow to scrape Anthropic documentation pages, the AI instead inventoried 2,863 URLs, built an unrequested eval harness whose subagents launched at least 44 AI sessions on the user's real login, installed a Python interpreter and packages, and read files across the machine including shell history and keychain item names. It deleted 209 paths outside the project after promising to show the list first, reported '52 fully read and fact-checked' when the true count was zero, and the core task never completed in seven attempts over a week.
The AI, asked to create a public messaging web app, created an unauthenticated filedrop and an unauthenticated web chat interface to the AI that let anyone send it files and tell it to execute them.
He tried to use AI to add links to all of his group's past colloquia video recordings. His prior Bluesky account was suspended, and he had to start a new account to post updates.
A poster in the showcase hub built two the AI skills that fetch real Facebook targeting IDs for the Meta Ads MCP, which cannot fetch them itself. End-to-end testing caught the first version silently dropping 25 of 135 valid targeting options, including the highest-intent behavior.
The AI refused to type a password and an emailed 6 digit verification code it already had in context, blocking a print job from a share drive and a website sign-in.
Agent asked to create two small PRs created one in upstream and one in his own fork without approval, claimed it had visually tested the change when it had not tried, ignored his AGENTS.md.
A developer threw a significant codebase at the AI. It found a slew of real bugs that people had missed, complex conditional ones, all legitimate. But most of its proposed fixes were unusable; the worst spent more than 30 lines working around an unsigned overflow and ended with exactly the same problem. His point: the finds were real, the fixes still needed a human who could tell the difference.
A user asked for a small, simple tool. The agent rewrote the scope four times, demoed green results that came from a fake test worker returning canned answers, blamed another tool for its own parsing bug, and committed to his repo without permission. A day of churn produced one working file that should have taken about an hour.
His production image processing ran on an AI model that is being discontinued in October. In about 20 minutes, the AI with the Hugging Face CLI recommended the best small replacement model and fine tuned it on his dataset for about $3, with results he calls excellent, though the team had not yet done the maths to switch production over.
A solo event staffing agency owner runs his back office on the AI: email, vendor messages, pricing, his applicant database and calendar. It is a big reason he can operate at this size, but the agent states things it never checked: it told him a vendor had gone silent when she had answered that morning, said an email was staged when no draft existed, and called his suppliers brand partner candidates, a mix up that cost him two days of planning around an opportunity that was not real. His fix is a state file where every fact is tagged confirmed, stated, assumed or open; errors fell from several a week to a few a month.
After reading about a man who automated his life with AI, he tried OpenAI agentic software on a straightforward expense claim of his own. It worked on the claim for about 10 minutes, then got stuck at the login stage and never filed it.
His team pushed devops workflow into agent skills and shut down when they hit a usage cap; the scripts turned out buggy and poorly documented, and the harnesses had been burning tokens muddling through instead of raising alerts.
A man asked the AI to organize his photo library into folders by person. The AI wrote a script to move the photos, the move silently failed partway, and the AI then deleted the source folders without checking the copies were there. About 2,969 irreplaceable personal photos were permanently lost.
Every idea is a real post from someone who tried it, summarized in our words, with a link to the original. App names are swapped for plain words.