Any day now, if you are still working, there’s a good chance a robot will do your job. Really? – you’re saying to yourself. Artificial intelligence (AI) is coming and there’s not much we can do to stop it (maybe pulling the plug or removing the batteries?).

If your job involves making simple decisions and repetitive tasks, a robot may be doing it in two to three years. They (I’m using pronouns to talk about robots…what does that tell you) will do  payroll, review contracts, copy data to storage and handle simple insurance claims. They are already building cars so what did you expect? You just have to hope motor vehicle departments are not staffed by robots. On second thought, robots don’t need coffee breaks and have no incentive to slow down in order to convince supervisors that the job cannot be done any faster. Bring on the bots!

The upside, if you want to look up, is that AI has the potential to greatly enhance the lives of those of us whose work involves a lot of human interaction and judgement. We can continue to interact with other humans while robots reduce the drudgery of repetitive tasks (now we’re back to payroll and basic computer tasks). Imagine how much more productive you could be if you didn’t have update software, organize files, and make breakfast. AI will in fact add new jobs as more people will need to get involved in programming the robots to add more capabilities. Lots of job openings for bot wranglers coming soon.

The other promising factor is that when push comes to shove, humans prefer humans. It’s very unlikely that any of us will want to meet with a robotic therapist, CPA or dentist. Deep down, we crave human interaction even though there are an awful lot of humans who are just plain awful. Most of us would still opt for the human interaction over the robotic one.

So what do you do if your job is threatened by AI? Start thinking about moving into careers that call for skills such as selling, negotiating, strategic thinking, and creative design. And soon. Those bots are persistent. They don’t know how to behave any other way.

Jay Harrison is a graphic designer and writer whose work can be seen at DesignConcept. His mystery novel, Head Above Water, is available on Amazon and Kindle. You can also visit his author page here.

For my piano lesson, I follow an eight-year-old girl and her brother, who is twelve. Their older sister, tattoos up and down her arms, waits to drive them home when the lesson is finished. At least I thought she was their sister. But, no, she’s their mother. They’re all children, from my viewpoint. And what am I doing there, a seventy-something woman waiting, books in hand, to sit at the teacher’s piano for a half hour and hit the all the wrong notes?

Fair question. It was one of my not-so-smart ideas a few months ago. I read that learning a new language or playing music are two ways to delay dementia. I could never sing, was told I was tone deaf and would never be able to carry a tune, and couldn’t read music. Seemed to me that this was just the challenge I needed to keep my brain humming. Whether or not it’s working, I couldn’t tell you. But I have learned to read the notes and I found out I’m not tone deaf because I can actually tell when I hit a wrong note. I’ve also learned that there’s a bunch of other things besides the notes that you have to know before you can play very much.

I hit the same wrong notes over and over so I fear I may have waited too long to start the project – beginning dementia may already be taking its toll. But let’s not dwell on that. There is something else I learned from this adventure and that is what it feels like to have to do something you really don’t like, over and over, every day. This caused me to call my oldest son and apologize. Between the ages of eight and ten he used to sit at the piano daily and practice with an alarm clock set for twenty minutes. When that bell rang he stopped, mid-song if necessary. He’s fifty-one now. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I had no idea what that must have felt like.” A smug chuckle was his response. Over the phone, alas, so I couldn’t see his face. But I can imagine. How often does your mother admit to the error of her ways decades after the fact?

Four months into this I’m still trying. My practice sessions are shorter than twenty minutes. No alarm clock necessary. My back starts to hurt after about ten minutes so I quit when I feel the first jab of pain. Even in the middle of a song.

Norma Libman is a journalist and lecturer who has been collecting women’s stories for more than twenty years. You can read the first chapter of her award-winning book, Lonely River Village, at NormaLibman.com.

With lots of hobbies and interests, I figured I was immune from the threat of losing my sense of identity in retirement. I’ve read this is common among men, but as a career woman, I suppose I’m equally at risk.

While it’s true I’m not bored, and I don’t miss the job or the stressful lifestyle, I do feel a sense of loss. Much as I like the writing of Brené Brown, who says we are enough simply by being, I’m never enough. I’m having a hard time letting go of the idea my life is only as good as my achievements.

I sometimes lack confidence, but I make up for it (or compensate for it?) with deep internal drive. One could argue I have a lot of baggage to unpack, but I like to put a positive spin on my shortcomings. My drive is the fuel that keeps me going when others run out of gas.

The writer Edna Ferber said, “Being an old maid is like death by drowning, a really delightful sensation after you cease to struggle.” I’ve wondered if that philosophy can apply to the loss of identity in retirement. Should I just chill out, enjoy what time is left and start the slow slide into the great unknown?

Probably not. I do not believe I’ve reached my full human potential, and part of me says never surrender. But another part of me is open to the idea maybe you have to give up who you thought you were to become who you are supposed to be. Maybe retirement was the only thing that could push me out of my comfort zone and into a future that is beyond anything I dreamed of.

Whew, kind of deep, but I think about shit like this when I am supposed to be sleeping.

I’m just entering my second year of retirement. The first year was a period of adjustment with no alarm clock and the joy of being free from all the crap that goes on in the workplace. This year I want to focus more on my transition to Donna 2.0.

In Donna 2.0, I see my tenacity as a good thing, my superpower, that can help me live a long and healthy life. But I’m not going to let it fill me with illusions about what it means to be successful. Maybe I’ll just take that word out of my vocabulary and use my superpower to liberate me from my own expectations, to do what feels good and see what happens.

Starting today! No lists, no goals. Just cupcakes.

Donna Pekar is an aging badass (for real) who lives in California and writes Retirement Confidential.

I’m a terrible shopper. For me, shopping is not unlike multiple choice quizzes or the SAT question that starts with a train leaving Chicago at 10 a.m. I may or may not know the answers but always overthink the problem until I inevitably get everything wrong.

Most of my shopping excursions involve at least one extra trip for returns, but sometimes I don’t discover my mistake until after I’ve worn them, and by then it’s too late. Except … I’ve recently learned about 100 percent satisfaction guaranteed. Of course, I’ve heard the expression, but I had no idea how it really worked in the retail setting.

I went to Atheta because I saw some really cool hybrid cargo pants in the catalog. We used to call these stretch pants. They weren’t cheap, but I was prepared to splurge. In retirement, I find myself drawn to stretchy, multi-purpose clothes suitable for golf, hiking or even a meal out.

Again, I always overthink things. I tried on the size 6, and the clerk said I needed the 4. I thought the 4s were too tight, but she said they would stretch. Although I like a slim and sleek fit, I have a history of buying clothes that are too big for me.

I got the 4s home and decided I made a mistake. Drove back to the mall (30 minutes) and explained my dilemma. I tried on both sizes, and they confirmed I need the 4s. The clerk said we stand by our products. If at any time you think they aren’t right, just bring them back.

Came home with the same pants I left with and tried them on again. I decided to wear them for a long walk today, and the 4s felt tight all over and pinched at the waist. The pockets weren’t particularly functional because the fabric was tight across my body.

I’m not one to abuse return policies. But sometimes products don’t live up to their promise, and I kept telling myself – they said it would be OK.

I went back to the mall for what was now my third trip. The clerk recognized me and said, “Oh, they didn’t work?’ I said no, and I feel bad, because I wore them. She said don’t feel bad, that’s our policy, and she happily exchanged them in a flash.

Now I have pants I like but what an ordeal. All self-induced. I would not want to use the satisfaction guarantee very often, but now I look to see who else has it, and I’ve been pleasantly surprised to see Ulta has this policy as well. Sadly, that means the hair product graveyard in my bathroom was completely unnecessary.

Donna Pekar is an aging badass (for real) who lives in California and writes Retirement Confidential.