Remember Romy and Michele. They show up to their high-school reunion as successful businesswomen — with the suits, the confidence, and a story about inventing the Post-it. That's it. That's the whole substance. The reunion buys it right up until somebody asks one real question about the business, and the claim falls apart on contact.

The claim was a costume with no body underneath.

Hand an AI tool a fragment and it gives you the businesswoman's special right back — something that sounds impressive and falls apart the moment you look closely. Treat it like a brand-new assistant who's fast, widely read, eager — and acts as if it knows exactly what you meant. Your job is to give it the substance.

Give it a job, not a mood

Tell it the specific outcome — the actual deliverable — not the general area you'd like help with.

Apply it"Write a four-sentence intro email to a new client I'm taking over from a colleague. Goal: they finish it feeling confident I've got this."

Brief the tool the way Miranda Priestly briefs Andy. Not "do something nice." A Miranda brief sounds like: the unpublished Harry Potter manuscript, two copies, bound, on my desk by the time the girls get on the train. Deliverable, format, deadline — no room for the assistant to invent the brief on Miranda's behalf. The tool can deliver to spec. It can't read your mind.

Add the audience

Tell it who the output is for. The same facts become a different message depending on who's reading.

Apply it"This is for a senior, time-poor client who's slightly wary of the handover. Warm but efficient. No fluff, no over-promising."

Use constraints

Give it the limits: length, format, what to include, what to avoid.

Apply it"Under 90 words. No 'I'm excited to.' No 'don't hesitate to reach out.' Include one concrete next step."

Constraints don't slow the magic; they are the magic. Think of briefing a tailor: exact measurements, the fabric, and a deadline get you something you'll actually wear — "make me something nice" gets you nothing you can leave the house in.

Make it ask you first

When your own thinking is still messy, don't make the tool guess — make it interview you.

Apply it"Before you write it, ask me up to three questions that would make this email better." Often its questions surface the thing you hadn't thought through yourself.

Use what you've got — carefully

If the tool lets you upload, it can pull from a document — but tell it exactly what to do with the file, because a file is information, not instructions.

Apply it"Here are my colleague's last three emails to this client. Match their warmth but make it mine — pull any names, dates, or commitments I shouldn't drop."

One caveat before you upload anything: real client material belongs only in a company-approved account (more on that in the safety box). And if you feed it a spreadsheet — check the math. A confident chart is not a verified one.

Check the output — every time

The one that keeps you employed. Anything touching facts, numbers, money, law, or commitments gets verified before it goes out.

Apply ityour draft confidently references "our successful Q3 project together" — except you never said that; the tool invented it to sound warm. That's a hallucination, and it would've gone out under your name. Episode 3 is the full deep dive.

Iterate

Your first prompt doesn't have to be perfect. Read what comes back, say what worked and what didn't, refine.

Apply it"Warmer in the first line, lose the second sentence, and end on the next step instead of a sign-off cliché." That's the turn most people skip — where the draft stops being the tool's and starts being yours.