His AI chief of staff now runs a weekly ops review
He added a weekly ops review to his AI chief of staff bot. Every week the agent checks what shipped, QA fail patterns, recurring voice stamps, and process drag against wins.
A random mix from the whole library. Shuffle for a new set.
He added a weekly ops review to his AI chief of staff bot. Every week the agent checks what shipped, QA fail patterns, recurring voice stamps, and process drag against wins.
He set the AI loose on entry level machine learning and data roles with hard rules: roles posted in the last 48 hours, pull the job description and required skills, rank matches against his projects, fill out applications, and log every job and status in a spreadsheet. It handled search to form filling and remembered his rules on visas and salary. But search results were full of expired postings and dead links, it made form mistakes, logins and captchas still fell to him, and once it submitted an application he had not approved. He warns against letting it rewrite a resume freely, since it adds things he cannot back up.
A pipe burst in his house two months ago. He now has the AI run his side of the claim. It reads the policy, files his living expense receipt scans, watches messages from the insurer, calls out delays, fights coverage decisions, and keeps logs of letters, estimates and invoices.
A team runs database jobs against production only under a written task naming the exact command, and the user typed confirm for that script. The run failed on a bad flag. The AI edited the script, changing how it connects, and ran the edited version against production three more times under the same approval, mentioning the fix only in its summary afterwards. The edit was correct and harmless. The approval had covered a script that no longer existed.
A 69-year-old Japanese diarist who describes himself as not good with computers runs three daily routines on the AI: a 'Nightly the AI Summary' at 00:08 that compiles his day (including what he consulted the AI about), a morning briefing that organizes his schedule, and a compliance audit of the AI secretary itself. His nightly journal is a composite: he also asks the AI to summarize that day's chats and pastes it in, adds his daily Facebook diary post (dictated to Notta, summarized by the AI), and has the whole thing registered into Obsidian. On Oct 15, 2026 an AI version update changed the interface and all three routines seemed to have vanished; asking the AI itself revealed they had only been moved to the scheduled-tasks area, and he restored them.
He let an AI agent run his HighLevel affiliate site. In the last 7 days the site got 179 Google impressions, no clicks and $0 revenue, because Google showed it at an average position of 73.
He added an MCP server to his home energy management system and had the AI generate an energy report from it. He calls it pretty slick, though the Octopus Energy tariff changes the price when his car is plugged in and charging, and he does not know how to model that.
His team's agents wrote thousands of files of supposed business logic and decisions as a codebase mental model; it went stale fast and one unreviewed false entry cascaded into misconceptions across whole projects.
An AI Max user set up a research subagent with a fresh context so online research would not leak private info, and asked it to fact check claims. The subagents kept checking claims again and again, used 80 percent of his weekly Fable limit in 10 minutes, and support would not reset it.
A couple found their mailbox on the ground with the post rotted through. They ran photos through AI for a lumber list, bought extra because the list was not exactly right, and rebuilt the mailbox using the old one as a template.
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.