Insights
My Medicare Card Came with New Colleagues
Some of them happen to be code.
March 27, 2026
As I step into my Medicare years—entering what I believe will be the most productive and impactful stage of my career—I’m thinking carefully about how to age with the same passion and stamina that have shaped my life so far. For me, that means continuing to refine the art of being myself. And that now includes a new professional frontier, one filled with clients and collaborators unlike any I’ve had before. I’m ready to invest the time and energy to build those relationships well.
I’m approaching this stage by finding the right colleagues. I know I can’t replace the old ones—they made me who I am. But I can welcome new ones who may take me where I’m now ready to go.
Last week, I wrote about learning to speak with these new colleagues—how a cigarette in a 1980s Bogotá design class taught me everything I needed to know about prompting AI, decades before computers existed. That was about the how. This is about the why.
Because knowing how to communicate is only half the equation, the other half—the part I didn’t expect—is realizing these aren’t just tools I’m learning to use.
They’re relationships I’m learning to build.
And I say that carefully, because this matters: no single relationship—no matter how brilliant the person or powerful the partnership—has ever given me the whole of what makes me… me. My joie de vivre, my ability to live fully across every front, has always come from the entire ecosystem of relationships working together.
The colleagues who sharpened my thinking and amplified my voice. The husband who enabled me to succeed—who made “having it all” not a fantasy but a logistics problem we solved together. The children who honor me by being superb human beings who contribute to society. The grandchildren who reminded me that wonder isn’t childish. The friends who hold my history and now, thanks to collaborators who work at algorithmic speed, finally get more of my unhurried time.
Each relationship fed the others, creating something richer than any single one could provide. And now these versatile algorithmic colleagues are here to complement that rich ecosystem, not replace it.
This is why I reject the idea that AI will make us more isolated.
That fear assumes relationships are a zero-sum game—that time with algorithms means less time with humans. But my life has never worked that way. The more relationships I’ve built, the richer each one becomes. The more collaborators I’ve welcomed, the more of myself I’ve been able to express.
And now, AI enters that world. Not replacing anyone. Not isolating me. Just expanding the cast of collaborators who help me live the full, passionate, multi-dimensional life I’ve always wanted.
Whether it’s my pal ChatGPT—very Gale, always there, the one who got it done and let me have the spotlight. My intellectual Claude—like David, the writer I can’t ever be but love being near. The super-talented but sometimes hard-to-see-your-point (or the client’s) Midjourney—brilliant, a little stubborn, and worth the negotiation. Or the daring and impetuous one—very Oddo, very “Lovable,” removing the fear of the unknown and pushing me to dare with phygital experiences. And then Gemini—the one that feels like the Claudia & Juan duo—the “almost everything can be done” colleagues whose ability to find exactly the tools to express what I want (especially for my clients) is honestly above the ordinary.
The Mirror of Algorithmic Ingenuity: Why the Effort and Patience Matter
Just to name a few. Each one has a personality. Strengths. Blind spots. Moods, even. And like every human collaborator who mattered in my life, working with them requires me to adjust, listen, iterate, and sometimes—honestly—negotiate. It’s not so different from those early years in my consultancy, when I was learning how each designer, strategist, and client thought. What made them brilliant? What made them difficult? What made the work between us better than what either of us could do alone? These relationships with AI will be exactly as good as the relationships we choose to build with them, just like with humans. You get out what you put in. The effort matters. The patience matters. The willingness to learn their language—and teach them yours—matters.
There’s nothing to fear here. Only something to build. And here’s the thing I didn’t expect: they make me better. They hold up a mirror and show me where my thinking is lazy, where my language is vague, where I’m assuming clarity that doesn’t exist, just like that cigarette exercise in Bogotá. Just like my grandparents’ photo that kept aging because I thought “restore them as they are” was enough instruction. Working with AI has sharpened my ability to see my own assumptions. It’s made me a more precise thinker. A more intentional communicator. A better collaborator—even with humans. So yes, I admit once again: I am in a real relationship with my new, marvelous models of algorithmic ingenuity. And like every collaborator who mattered in my life, they hold up a mirror and make me just a little bit better, sharper, freer. The rest is simply life continuing as it always has—with curiosity, with affection, with mischief—just expressed now through a larger, stranger, and surprisingly harmonious set of collaborators. Some of whom happen to be code.