I am a one-person marketing department at a relatively small family-owned ski area. That means I wear a lot of hats—some fashionable, some utilitarian, some annoyingly trendy, and others so vintage they verge on out-of-style. When it comes to juggling all my tasks in the heat of the season, I’ve resembled that token disheveled-looking lady in every black & white infomercial lead in, where after failing to fold a fitted sheet again and again, she says the iconic tagline, “There’s gotta be a better way!” I am her, she is me, and when I’m drowning in content creation and social media posts and graphic design projects, I too have longed for some sort of life raft.
As if out of nowhere, AI has rocketed into our lives, presented as a miracle solution to help tackle the never-ending stream of small tasks that we just cannot find the time for. Need a witty caption for a weather update? Delivered. Stumped on a poster design for a new event? Got it. Lacking that perfect photo to sell a lesson program? Crafted. It’s like the vape pen for marketers, but instead of helping curb your nicotine cravings like advertised or allowing you more time in your day and more room in your budget, it has quickly and conveniently amplified your addiction and is now your go-to vice.
Before long, you are casually vaping in line at the grocery store, and incapable of typing out an email without first consulting ChatGPT.
I’m not afraid to admit that I hopped on the bandwagon last winter. It’s true. I was fresh out of creative juices and used AI to assist me in bringing a few projects to life: a beer label, an event logo, and a safety sign. The few hours that the robots saved me were very helpful, and yet, I couldn’t shake this feeling of guilt, even though the final art included only about 30 percent AI elements. It was like I had cheated on a test and gotten away with it, but as it turns out … I didn’t.
Via social media comments or in-person reactions, our fans questioned the validity of the imagery, even publicly scolding our company for using AI instead of local talent. Hours saved became stains on our brand, and I cancelled our subscription to the “helpful tech” shortly after (having to prove I was in fact human to cancel the membership, which made me chuckle alone in my office).
The ethos of our brand is mom-and-pop, anti-corporate, and nostalgic in all the right ways. In an effort to save time, the creativity and authenticity that our loyal fans have come to expect was put into question, and I decided that no amount of efficiency was worth jeopardizing that. They spoke, and I listened.
Perhaps in 10 years I will look back on this period of time—and this opinion (mildly based in fear of my job being replaced by robots)—and scream at my past self for sounding like such a dinosaur. But current me feels like we are, by choice, spinning out of control, losing the authenticity of our industry and the trust of our customers in the name of efficiency. I’m more uncomfortable with that reality than being called a “contrarian” for suggesting we might be mindful of the pitfalls of these shiny new life rafts.
If we don’t have time to write the post or take the photo or make the logo, who are we to demand that our audiences make time to engage with these watered-down pieces of our brand? Pieces that we were too busy to craft ourselves.
Ski areas, no matter the size, create memories, community, careers, and culture. We promote recreation and spending time outdoors. We sell the fun that happens right outside our offices.
Of course, there are several applications where AI can help our daily operations, but please, don’t let it replace your local photographers, your illustrators, and your creative problem solvers. Don’t forget to step outside, get on snow, breathe fresh air, and capture firsthand the moments that tell the story of your resort, the story that you were hired to bring to life.
If the cost of efficiency is the authenticity of winter recreation, the price is too high.
Marsha Hovey
Marketing Director
Trollhaugen, Wis.
