“Please” Isn’t Just Polite, It’s Programming

Why How We Talk to AI Shapes How We Treat Each Other

There’s a (sometimes pretty snarky) growing whisper in tech-savvy circles that goes something like this:

“You don’t need to say ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ to an AI. It’s a waste of energy, literally.”

And sure, on the surface, that’s true. Every extra word you type into a generative AI model increases the number of tokens processed. More tokens require more computing power. Multiply that by millions of users, and yeah, the environmental footprint inches upward. Tiny costs add up.

But here’s the part we’re missing when we fixate on the math:

This isn’t just about tokens and energy. It’s about tone and humanity.

And it’s not just a philosophical distinction, it’s a neurological one.

How We Speak Shapes How We Think

Neuro-linguistic programming (NLP) isn’t just a buzzword from the self-help aisle. It’s based on the idea that the words we use don’t just describe our reality, they help create it.

When we choose words that are emotionally flat, overly transactional, or subtly aggressive (even unintentionally), we reinforce those patterns in our own neural pathways. The brain, ever the efficiency machine, learns from repetition.

So if we spend our day barking orders at Siri, snapping commands into ChatGPT, and reducing every interaction to its most robotic form, what are we training our brains to do?

We’re teaching ourselves to prioritize speed over sensitivity, and clarity over connection. And that bleeds out into our relationships, our workplaces, our families, and even our sense of self.

Politeness Isn’t Performative. It’s Preventative.

Here’s where things get tricky: politeness isn’t about placating machines. It’s about maintaining our own humanity.

Saying “please” and “thank you” to a generative AI model doesn’t make it work better. It doesn’t unlock bonus features. But it does keep you in the habit of being the kind of person who acknowledges effort, values grace, and doesn’t assume entitlement to every outcome.

Think of it like emotional flossing. You don’t do it because it makes your teeth whiter, you do it because the long-term effects matter.

And let’s be real: most of us spend hours a day interacting with screens, systems, and semi-sentient interfaces. That’s a lot of time rehearsing tone. If all that rehearsal is done in the voice of command-and-control, what are we reinforcing?

Why It Matters More Than Ever

In a world already fraying at the edges, from politically, to socially, and absolutely emotionally, the smallest courtesies are no longer small. They are acts of resistance against dehumanization.

It’s tempting to be efficient at the expense of empathy. To say, “It’s just a tool,” and move on. But when we cut out the grace notes of language, we lose more than a few joules of energy. We lose connection, we lose nuance, and we lose the quiet reminder that relationships, even the digital ones, are practiced behaviors.

What If…?

• What if the way we talk to machines was a reflection of how we want to treat people?

• What if kindness, even in seemingly unnecessary moments, helped anchor us in a more compassionate posture?

• What if we saw every interaction… yes, even with an AI… as a chance to practice being better humans?

Because here’s the thing: your neural wiring doesn’t care whether you’re talking to a bot or a barista. It only knows what you're rehearsing.

The Bottom Line

Yes, saying “please” and “thank you” to AI technically uses more energy. But so does kindness in general. Empathy takes effort. Emotional intelligence isn’t energy neutral. And yet we choose it anyway, because in the long arc of culture, what we normalize shapes who we become. So if our choices come down to conserving a few computational milliseconds or protecting our collective humanity…

I know which one I’m choosing. And it comes with a “thank you.” (Surprised? I hope not! And hey… when the robot overlords really do take over, well, maybe it will make a difference. ;)