Someone I know died last month. I didn’t know him well; he was the founding member of a group of coaches who gather monthly to discuss business and hone skills. He started it some 20+ years ago. I joined in April 2020, at the beginning of Covid. For years they met in person… during my time it’s on Zoom.
My first impressions of this Vietnam Vet were ‘this guy doesn’t have any filters.’ He wasn’t shy to drop a ‘g-ddamn’ or a ‘bullsh*t’ amidst the wisdom he shared in short bursts. He had retired years earlier from an HR career and wasn’t taking on any clients. He had an oxygen tube under his nose. Some months he didn’t attend, because pulmonary fibrosis disrupted his day.
On December 11, 2023, he introduced the group to ‘something new’… an A.I. ‘disrupter’ called ‘ChatGPT.’ After he spoke glowingly of how it would ‘change everything’ including ‘how coaching is delivered,’ I weighed in with: “I don’t see this having an impact before I retire.”
Turns out my analysis might be wrong. I’ve written many blogs about the journey to adapt Large Language Models into my work – and while it has yet to overtake coaching as a discipline, that day indeed might come before I wrap things up.
The coaches group met, as scheduled, this morning… and the entire hour was to share memories of our departed friend.
One person noted: “A lot of people talk about to never stop learning. He lived it.” Another: “He believed each person must advocate for himself.” Another: “He honored ‘holding space’ with everyone he met. That’s why he started this group and several others, including one for people suffering from pulmonary fibrosis, as soon as he was diagnosed.” One more: “His dad was a doctor in a wheelchair who died when he was a teenager. His brother had special needs and died young. He lost a son in a car accident. Life handed him some tough times… and he never stopped trying to help and mentor others.”
During the past year, he let us know that he was using ChatGPT to convert his notes into prose and poems for when he was gone. Someone asked today, “Did he get to finish that book?” Another responded: “He finished it at 10 o’clock and sent it to a handful of us to read. I spoke to his wife, who said they stayed up until midnight talking, then went to bed. When she woke up in the morning, he had died peacefully in his sleep.”
Bruce Anderson made a big ripple in the universe during his 83 years.