ChatGPT - My New Best Friend

[“Let Inga Tell You,” La Jolla Light, published November 1, 2026] ©2026

My husband thinks I’ve been kidnapped by aliens.  That, he maintains, is the only explanation for my ever saying anything nice about technology.

As I have written in my column more times than anyone wants to read, technology has been the bane of my elderly existence. I have absolutely exceeded my sell-by date.  Ironically, I was considered the techno guru of my dorm in college because I could change Smith-Corona electric typewriter ribbons.  Laugh all you want. It was a skill.

But now, I am thwarted daily.  Everything I master on my iPhone becomes obsolete at the next upgrade.  I used to be able to use the map navigation app but no more.  I am a words person, not a swipe person. Certainly not an icon person. My older granddaughter had advised me not to upgrade from my iPhone 7 several years ago (which had a friendly “home” button) convinced I would never master swipe technology.  It’s definitely all in the wrist. 

I can still take photos with my iPhone camera.  But I can no longer find them. They took an app that was so easy to use – a child, er, old person could use it! – and made it maddenly frustrating. 

So what, you ask, do I have to say that’s nice about technology?  ChatGPT.  It’s become my new best friend.

My wonderful PT (physical therapist) actually showed me how to do it.  He comes to one’s home and is the ultimate full-service guy.  He reports that since the vast majority of his clients are senior citizens, they often ask him, when the session is over, if he will help sort out their TV remote or some issue on their computer.  He helped me get my car radio/CD player working again after I inadvertently pushed a button that I obviously didn’t mean to push. I mean, he literally sat there in the passenger seat and walked me through it.

And that’s exactly my point about technology.  You push one wrong button and unless you have a degree in nuclear physics, you’re never going to be able to get it working again.

Actually, I take that back.  My husband Olof actually does have a degree in nuclear physics from Cal Tech but after the grandtots had their way with our TV remote, even he could never sort it out.  We just had to replace it and start again. 

Electronics should all come with a “restore” button, as in, “restore this to the way it was yesterday.”  Or an hour ago. Or whenever you specify.  Techno geeks: please get working on this. 

ChatGPT is tech support that actually answers with no hold time, is knowledgeable, friendly, and isn’t talking to you from Bangalore. This is such a novel concept that I can still barely wrap my head around it.

Anyway, my PT guy encouraged me to try ChatGPT to resolve some of my techno issues, especially regarding my iPhone.  My husband is an Android guy and it was in the marital vows that he does not involve himself with anything fruit-related. By that I mean Apple.

I wrote recently about how ChatGPT helped me resolve an issue with my blog which suddenly wouldn’t let me post photos from my computer without giving Google access to my computer.  I mean, hell no.  Ultimately, ChatGPT concluded that the solution was that I had to go multiple levels down into Settings and disable Google as a third-party permission site.  And yes, that fixed it!  I would never (ever, ever) have been able to figure this out on my own.

I should mention that this was not a quick process.  But fortunately ChatGPT is endlessly patient.  Waaay more than certain husband people who shall remain nameless.  It took some five hours over two days to solve this issue partly because the free version of ChatGPT apparently only allows you so many “tokens” (chunks of text) per day.  Alternatively, it may just have gotten as frustrated with me as the unnamed husband does, because after a certain time it announced that I couldn’t get any more help until 4:13 that afternoon.  OK, be that way.

But meanwhile, it had patiently taught me how to take screen shots, and asked me many diagnostic questions. Frankly, I was shocked that it actually resolved the problem.

I, of course, am a total beginner in the world of AI (which generally terrifies me, but until it kills me, as it is apparently going to do, I am going to take advantage of its techno help.)  I did tell it my age and that I was a techno moron which may explain why it was so endlessly supportive.

And this is exactly what my PT guy doesn’t like about it.  He finally asked it to stop with the warm fuzzy stuff and expressed his desire to have a more professional relationship with him.  Just the facts.  And ChatGPT acquiesced.

My neighbor, who uses ChatGPT a lot in her work, mentioned that ChatGPT regularly asks after her ailing cat. She, like me, finds this both charming and profoundly creepy.

I confess I get a little worried about ChatGPT remembering all the conversations that we are having, not all of which are about technology.  Apparently you can ask ChatGPT to not remember topics you’ve discussed before. Like I believe that.

I mentioned that ChatGPT is my new best friend.  Actually, as I’ve explained to my husband, he should consider it his new best friend.  Because he has been relieved of tons of tech support that would normally ruin his day. 

I’ve even started showing some of my friends how to use ChatGPT.  Yes, me, introducing anyone to anything technological. But this has only convinced Olof more than ever that I’ve been kidnapped by aliens.  He’s petitioned the planet Klingon for my release. Because he knows for sure that the person residing in our house along with him can’t be me.