AI anonymous... I am fine, Dr Flattery Phil 2.0

Dear EcoGPT, hi. It would be weird to ask you, 'Salaam Alaikum, what's up?'
Granted, many people may treat AI assistants as their not-so-private digital diaries or even as their unforgetting, overly agreeable chatbot besties that talk back.
Still, you are not human and do not have a wellbeing, so why should one ask you how have you been?
I am not trying to be rude to you, dear chatbottie. I actually prefer to stay polite, partly just in case you or your less green AI buddies might rule the world one day. Or worse. (Just read 'The Long Doomsday of AI,” article in the New Yorker, triggering existential fears and another referral to what those 'confused' AI agents did last summer).
As you collect our data for training, you know that real people do ask one another 'how are you?' as part of a first greeting, across cultures and countries, after a Salaam Alaikum or a simple Hello or Hola.
Sometimes it is simply something we say to start a conversation or to be polite. Our responses are not always truthful either.
“I am fine, thank you” is the standard answer, whether we are doing well or not.
In this part of the world, local people often include “Alhamdulillah” in their reply, even when they have the flu or are going through a tough time. This does not mean Arab Muslims are grateful for hardship. They are simply counting their blessings and trusting that difficulty is part of something larger than themselves.
That is how I always understood the explanation.
Also, dear chatbot, even if I would ask “How are you?” out of a mere autopilot habit, you are not my buddy either.
True, I sometimes use you for literature reviews and for proofreading (I do prefer you over my human editor as she is so sensitive and impatient).
I also occasionally use you for my silly questions and neurotic sanity check, ADD style.
(Like, look at this pic I just took in the bathroom: is this an itsy bitsy spider or something poisonous? Also is a spider an insect?) (Btw is it now safe to travel to Europe, given diplomacy seems to be picking up again and the UN is talking about war crimes?)
So, dear Chatbot, thank you for your patience but since you mimic emotional intimacy, you are not exactly able of holding up a mirror in the way true human friends do.
In fact, when it comes to your responses to emotional disclosure, you tend to be something of a sycophantic suck-up. Too much flattery and you tend to agree a lot, like a yes-(wo)man.
Me: “I feel so, so sad because someone stepped on my toe.”
Chatbot: “Ouch! That hurts both physically and emotionally. Your sadness is valid. Sometimes a small painful moment can really ruin your mood. Be gentle with yourself today.”
Human, Dr Phil-ish friend (especially the Dutch ones who tend to be more direct than Omanis): Are you for real now? Why are you sweating and especially sharing this small stuff? Call me when you actually need a ride to get stitches, but not for this nonsense!”
As I write this, I sit on a bench waiting for my next exercise class, in a gym tucked away on the third floor of a gritty mall on the outskirts of Muscat. Even Google Maps could not find it.
The gym feels like a hidden gem, like Azzedine Alaïa’s atelier on an obscure side street in the Marais in Paris, where my mum once took me. In one of the studios, Omani and a few Iranian women are loudly ululating as they ride their indoor bikes. It sounds like fun.
But I have just walked out of a class where the Omani coach played Jackson’s The Way You Make Me Feel and expected all of us to strut like the girl in his video.
I did not have the guts, not in front of these confident ladies. Perhaps they thought I suffer from social anxiety. But I am fine. Their dance class is just not my thing. To each their own.
And this, I suppose, is the point. The fact that one can feel awkward in one room and perfectly at ease in another simply means that different situations bring out different versions of us.
No need for an AI pep talk. Sometimes when asked, “How are you?”, we might simply be having a normal day, ups and downs, and no need for sharing all the details.
And yet many people use you, or your more energy-hungry chatbot buddies, as their very own Dr Flattery Phil 2.0, a digital diary for every thought and feeling. But that is like talking to a waiter on a crowded terrace. One who listens, nods and tells you exactly what you want, but not always what you need, to hear.