I would squirm in my chair as my new teacher worked their way through the class register, and my stomach would drop as they attempted to say my full name: Priti Ubhayakar.
Not every conversation with AI ends in the same place. Some end where they began: I arrive with an idea, the machine agrees, I leave satisfied. No disagreements, plenty of praise. What a delightful conversation. Others end in territory I didn't know existed. I leave with doubts that weren't there when I entered. The difference between these two outcomes is rarely about the tool. It's about the level of awareness I bring into the conversation and the question I decide to ask.
Social foraging strategies illustrate the balance between competition and cooperation, where individuals either produce resources or exploit the efforts of others, navigating ecological and social constraints.
You know that person at the coffee shop who somehow commands the entire room without saying much? Last week, I watched someone transform a chaotic situation at my local café into a moment of calm efficiency. The espresso machine had broken, the line was growing, and tensions were rising. This woman, dressed in simple jeans and a plain white shirt, quietly helped reorganize the queue, offered her spot to someone in a rush, and had everyone feeling better within minutes.
For the first time, speech has been decoupled from consequence. We now live alongside AI systems that converse knowledgeably and persuasively-deploying claims about the world, explanations, advice, encouragement, apologies, and promises-while bearing no vulnerability for what they say. Millions of people already rely on chatbots powered by large language models, and have integrated these synthetic interlocutors into their personal and professional lives. An LLM's words shape our beliefs, decisions, and actions, yet no speaker stands behind them.
Led Zeppelin warned us about the perils of misunderstood communications in relationships. Failing to translate what we are trying to say or do so that someone else gets it is the root of so many problems. But translation is a fantastic find when it goes right. Here are some things I've learned about translating meaning from a lifetime of speaking numerous languages, practicing a wide array of martial arts, and communicating science.
Many people come to therapy with a goal to work on communication, especially with a partner. The problem, as many see it, is "poor communication," and the goal is to have "better communication." Poor communication can mean a lot of things, including ongoing and repeated conflicts, trouble expressing what we want or need, and avoidant tendencies. Therapy can work out a number of these issues. Understanding our cycle of conflict can create quicker off-ramps to repair.
I've interviewed over 200 people for articles, from startup founders to burned-out middle managers, and I've discovered something fascinating: intellectual depth isn't about fancy degrees or knowing obscure facts. It shows up in how we communicate. When certain habits dominate someone's style, it reveals a concerning lack of curiosity and critical thinking that goes beyond just being annoying-it fundamentally limits their ability to engage with the world meaningfully.
I spent years interviewing people for my articles, and one pattern kept emerging: The most likeable people weren't always the kindest. After ending a friendship with someone who constantly competed with me while maintaining a perfect public persona, I started paying attention to the subtle behaviors that reveal someone's true character. These aren't obvious red flags like cruelty or dishonesty. They're the small, easily overlooked actions that slowly poison relationships and environments.
In behavioral science, identity follows action. If you're generous, you'll begin to see yourself as generous. If you're a patient person, you'll come to see that as part of who you are. Over time, the brain will wire itself to repeat these patterns.
You know that feeling when you're talking to someone and something just feels... off? They're smiling, nodding, saying all the right things, but there's this invisible wall between you. I used to dismiss this gut instinct until I started paying closer attention during my interviews with hundreds of people over the years. The patterns became impossible to ignore. We've all been there, either giving or receiving these subtle signals.
The question itself is surprisingly straightforward: "How does this person act when they have the choice to engage with me or not?" Think about it. When someone has the freedom to choose whether to interact with you, their decision speaks volumes. Do they seek you out at parties? Do they text you first sometimes? When the conversation naturally reaches a pause, do they let it end or find ways to keep it going?
