Hyperbole is a literary and rhetorical technique involving exaggeration and overstatement to create emphasis and effect. Synonyms of hyperbole include terms like purple prose, puffery, and embellishment. The word exaggeration has been known to be equated with baloney, excess, fabrication, fantasy, misjudgment, misrepresentation, and untruth.
We are now in the hilariously inflated world of the “Prompt Engineer” – modern-day alchemists who transform mundane words into digital gold with just a sprinkle of syntax and a clever twist of phrase. But let’s be honest, calling them engineers is like calling your local barista a “Beverage Temperature and Texture Specialist.” Or your friendly, struggling entrepreneur a Unicorn Whisperer.
First off, let’s debunk the “engineering” part. Traditional engineers deal with the laws of physics. They calculate loads, consider materials, and plan for stress (and not just their own). They build bridges, design cars, code software and occasionally get rockets to land back on Earth without turning into an unintended fireworks display. At the very least, they should be assembling IKEA furniture without crying.
But a Prompt Engineer? Their primary tool is a thesaurus, and their most significant engineering feat is structuring a sentence without triggering the wrath of an AI’s “I do not understand” response. Ask yourself – would you call someone a ‘Chocolate Architect’ because they can skillfully pick a Snickers over a Milky Way? Or is someone else a ‘Domestic Hydration Engineer’ because they know how to use a water filter? Sure, it’s a skill, but let’s not inflate it to the level of designing a suspension bridge.
Imagine walking into a party and saying, “I’m an engineer.” Eyes light up, someone asks, “What kind? Mechanical? Electrical?” You puff out your chest and reply, “Prompt.” – I am the person who thinks putting together a coherent sentence is akin to ISRO scientists sending the Chandrayaan to the Moon. Here is another rib-tickling scenario: a room full of “Prompt Engineers” wearing hard hats and discussing the structural integrity of a sentence. “Should we reinforce the subject with an extra adjective? What about the load-bearing comma?”
The art of “engineering” the perfect prompt is less about complex calculations and more about playing a linguistic game of “hot and cold” with a computer. “Warmer, warmer, no, too wordy, colder, add a synonym, warmer!” It’s like trying to teach your grandma to use a smartphone. No matter how many times you explain it, she will just end up calling you by accident.
In the days of yore, we had poets, playwrights, and novelists. Now, we have Prompt Engineers, the people who ask an AI to write a poem about a lovesick toaster. Shakespeare is rolling in his grave, not because of the AI-generated literature, but because someone called the person asking for it an “engineer.”
Also, consider the absurdity of the job title overkill here. What’s next? Will sandwich makers become “Culinary Assembly Engineers”? Will teenagers telling you the Wi-Fi password be “Domestic Connectivity Engineers”?
Calling someone a Prompt Engineer is like putting a top hat on a cat and calling it “Sir Whiskers, the Aristocat.” It’s amusing, slightly absurd, and a bit pretentious if you ask me. But who are we to judge if it makes the resume look fancier? So let’s give a round of applause to our Prompt Engineers, the fancy wordsmiths, the masters of making machines talk back, and let’s remember to take the term “engineer” with a grain of salt, or in this case, a pinch of punctuation.
