We Can Do Chores Wrong Faster Than Any Machine

By Tom Seest

At Sequatchie Crossing, we tell the stories of Sequatchie Crossing.

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🎤 Audio Overview

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Section 1 – The Problem Emerges

It started small, as these things always do in Sequatchie Crossing.
First, it was Trixie Jo Bartlett’s Facebook post bragging about how “AI” helped her reorganize her pantry in exactly 12 minutes, complete with color-coded shelf labels and an inventory list that auto-updated on her phone.

Then Mabel Dean Ashcroft chimed in: “I told AI to draft me a grocery list. It even reminded me to buy the stuff Harold forgets on purpose.”

By the end of the week, half the women in town were openly referring to “AI” like it was a dear friend who not only listened but responded in full sentences without sighing.

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Section 2 – The Men Strike Back

It didn’t take long for the men to notice the shift.
Harold Ashcroft found himself moved to the couch after arguing with Mabel about how to load the dishwasher — only for her to say, “Well, AI says you’re wrong.”
When Boot Barnes heard this, he muttered darkly, “AI’s never once had to fit a tractor tire in the sink. What does it know?”

By Thursday, a meeting had been called at the VFW Hall. Attendees included most of the town’s husbands, boyfriends, and “it’s complicated” partners.
Clovis Strickland, self-appointed spokesman, stood at the podium and declared:

“Gentlemen, we are being replaced by an algorithm that doesn’t even have a driver’s license.”

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Section 3 – The AI Escalation

Things got worse when AI-powered assistants started automating more than just shopping lists.
Gladys Peeler asked AI to plan her anniversary dinner, and it not only suggested the menu but emailed the caterer, booked the community center, and printed matching place cards.
When her husband, Pastor Peeler, asked why she didn’t just ask him, she replied, “Because last time you forgot the plates and we ate cake off hymnals.”

Soon the women were referring to AI for everything:

• Wedding toasts

• Lawn care schedules

• “Subtle but firm” reminders for in-laws to leave on time

The men decided enough was enough. They formed the Sequatchie Crossing Council for Human Spousal Relevance and issued a formal protest:

“We demand equal opportunity to be asked, ignored, and complained about — just like in the old days.”

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Section 4 – The Compromise Talks

The mayor, sensing the domestic unrest could lead to an epidemic of couch-based male migration, called a “Mediation Summit” in Town Hall.
Negotiations were tense. The women refused to give up AI, citing its punctuality and politeness. The men insisted they could be punctual and polite too — if “the game’s not on and the weather’s decent.”

Finally, Boot Barnes, of all people, proposed the winning compromise:

“What if we use AI to tell us what to do, so we can look like we’re doin’ it right the first time?”

The idea caught on. AI would still handle planning, organizing, and reminding, but the men would carry out the tasks — ideally before the women had to ask twice.
In return, the women agreed to let the men have one chore-free day a week for “human recharge.”

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Section 5 – Aftermath

By Sunday, harmony had mostly been restored.
The lawns were mowed, groceries were bought, and no one had been banished to the couch in 48 hours — a new town record.
Sure, every now and then, the men still grumbled about being “bossed around by a pocket robot,” but they liked the credit for jobs done well.
And the women? They were happy… mostly because they could still ask AI for things their husbands didn’t need to know about.

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Disclaimer

The Sequatchie Crossing Dispatch is a work of humor and fiction.
Any resemblance to real events, real people, or actual AI assistants who could absolutely run this town better than its residents is purely coincidental — and slightly worrying.

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