Barry pushed his phone across the table. Twenty-five stocks. Companies he couldn’t name.
“ChatGPT picked every single one”, he said.
“I’m crushing it.’
I was having dinner with a mate I’ll call Barry … and Barry has gone balls and all into AI.
In fact, these days it’s hard to work out where Barry starts and ChatGPT ends.
Solving climate change?
“AI.”
Write a work email that makes you sound like you care?
“AI.”
Constipated?
“Mate, have you tried asking ChatGPT about fibre intake?”
“Do you even know what these businesses do?” I quizzed him. He stared at me blankly.
“Let me just ask ChatGPT …”
“Enough!” I cried.
“Mate, you reckon your AI can pick winners? Fine. Let’s bet. Your ChatGPT portfolio vs my boring portfolio of index funds. Ten years. Loser buys dinner every month for a year.”
I don’t need an AI to tell me the answer, I know I’m a shoe-in. That’s because years ago I sat in Omaha and watched Buffett make basically the same bet with a Wall Street hotshot. His basic, no-frills index fund versus Wall Street’s elite hedge funds.
Ten years later?
Total bloodbath. Buffett 126%, hedge funds 3% to 88%.
Why am I so sure I’ll win Barry’s bet?
First, Barry can’t help himself. His AI’s already told him a crash is coming twice this year. He’s traded in and out like a day trader with a crystal ball. The more he trades, the less he’ll make.
Second, he’s not special. Everyone has ChatGPT. If the magic lamp actually worked, we’d all be rich. Which means nobody would be.
Third, Barry thinks he’s discovered the future. But he’s actually just automated his worst impulses.
Here’s the thing that ChatGPT fails at:
Getting rich isn’t about being clever. It’s about resisting the urge to be clever.
See you in 10 years, Barry. I’ll take my steak medium rare.
Tread Your Own Path!