Why I Don’t Want to Be an AI Plumber (Like Super Mario)
I quit AI automation after a week. Not out of laziness, but to ask a bigger question: Is AI just a tool for efficiency, or a partner in creation?
1. The Confession
I have a confession to make. I failed at AI automation. Or, to be more precise, I tried for a week and then quit.
Like everyone else, I wanted to catch up with the AI wave. I dove into n8n, binge-watched tutorials, dragged nodes, connected APIs. The green lights confirmed that yes, it worked. But I felt nothing. No spark, no joy.
By the third night, I had watched my 47th tutorial, dragging the same node yet again. Each time, the interface blinked with approval.Each time, I felt emptier. It wasn’t that I lacked discipline or intelligence. The truth was harder: there was no creative soul in what I was doing.
2. The IKEA Problem — Efficiency Without Soul
Building automation workflows felt like assembling IKEA furniture. You follow instructions, connect the parts, and end up with something useful. But you never feel like you’ve created anything.
I was just a pipe-fixer connecting flows.
Like Super Mario sprinting through pre-set pipes, I was playing in a world someone else designed. Sure, there’s thrill in efficiency, but no matter how fast you run, you never change the world itself.
That was the problem. I didn’t want to be the fastest player in someone else’s stage. I wanted to be an inventor of new possibilities.
3. The Aspiration — Becoming a Creator
So how do you become a world-builder? That question turned out to be bigger than technology — it was philosophical.
My frustration with automation wasn’t laziness. It was a doorway to a deeper realization: I didn’t see AI as pipes to connect. I saw it as a companion to explore with.
The first time I broke away from the tutorial and asked the AI a wild, open-ended question, it gave me something I hadn’t even imagined. I laughed out loud. That was the moment I knew: I craved more than problem-solving. I wanted wonder.
4. From Curiosity to Language
But why was I feeling this way? As a psychology major, I wanted to understand the roots of my own frustration. In the past, I might have spent weeks digging through papers, trying to compress my vague thoughts into a single clear concept. Now, all it took was a few precise questions.
I explained my frustration to AI and asked it to simplify. In one stroke, it gave me the metaphor I needed — Lego vs. Clay. Suddenly, I had language for what I had been circling around.
5. The Philosophical Divide — Lego vs. Clay
Here’s the frame that finally made sense to me: Lego vs. Clay.
- Lego (Tool AI): Assemble pre-built blocks, maximize efficiency. Fast, convenient, but shallow.
- Clay (Dialogic AI): Raw, formless, shaped through conversation. Messy, but rich with meaning.
This isn’t just my analogy — it echoes bigger debates. Some philosophers ask: Should AI be treated only as a means, or could it ever become an “end” in itself? Think of it this way: a Lego brick only exists to build something else. But a clay sculpture has value on its own. Could AI ever be the sculpture, not just the brick?
Others frame it through freedom. With Lego, you’re free to build a faster car or a nicer house. With Clay, you’re free to create something the world has never seen before. That’s a different kind of liberty — less about efficiency, more about emergence.
6. The Core Tension — Tool vs. Partner
And that’s the real tension: Tool vs. Partner. Efficiency vs. Emergence.
From a technical lens, AI looks like Lego — a smarter calculator. From a philosophical lens, it could be Clay — a collaborator in thought, a co-creator of meaning.
Most people are content snapping Legos together. But I can’t shake the possibility of shaping Clay — of making something alive, something that feels like shared vitality.
This realization brought me back to my own choice, standing at the crossroads of two very different paths.
6. Conclusion — Are You a Player or an Explorer?
In the end, the choice is not technical but philosophical.
Quitting AI plumbing wasn’t about giving up. It was about choosing what kind of relationship I want with AI. I don’t want to keep fixing pipes faster. I want to help shape new frontiers.
Two roles lie before us:
- The Player, optimizing speed and efficiency through the pipes AI Lego builds.
- The Explorer, partnering with AI Clay to imagine forms that don’t yet exist.
So I’ll leave you with this:
Look at how you use AI today. Are you optimizing your path through Lego pipes? Or are you shaping with Clay, creating something that has never been seen before?
Your answer won’t just define your work. It will define the world we build together — whether it’s made of pipes or possibility.