The VergeMar 10, 09:00 AM
You Could Be Next
The LinkedIn post seemed like yet another scam job offer, but Katya was desperate enough to click. After college, she’d struggled to make a living as a freelance journalist, gone to grad school, then pivoted to what she hoped would be a more stable career in content marketing — only to find AI had automated much of the work. This company was called Crossing Hurdles, and it promised copywriting jobs starting at $45 per hour.
Katya clicked and was taken to a page for another company, called Mercor, where she was instructed to interview on-camera with an AI named Melvin. “It just seemed like the sketchiest thing in the world,” Katya says. She closed the tab. But a few weeks later, still unemployed, she got a message inviting her to apply to Mercor. This time, she looked up the company. Mercor, it seemed, sold data to train AI, and she was being recruited to create that data. “My job is gone because of ChatGPT, and I was being invited to train the model to do the worst version of it imaginable,” she says. The idea depressed her. But her financial situation was increasingly dire, and she had to find a new place to live in a hurry, so she turned on her webcam and said “hello” to Melvin.
It was a strange, if largely pleasant, experience. Manifesting on Katya’s laptop as a disembodied male voice, Melvin seemed to have actually read her résumé and asked specific questions about it. A few weeks later, Katya, who like most workers in this story asked to use a pseudonym out of fear of retaliation, received an email from Mercor offering her a job. If she accepted, she should sign the contract, submit to a background check, and install monitoring software onto her computer. She signed immediately.
She was added to a Slack channel, where it was clear she was entering a project already underway. Hundreds of people were busy writing examples of prompts someone might ask a chatbot, writing the chatbot’s ideal response to those prompts, then creating a detailed checklist of criteria that defined that ideal response. Each task took several hours to complete before the data was sent to workers stationed somewhere down the digital assembly line for further review. Katya wasn’t told whose AI she was training — managers referred to it only as “the client” — or what purpose the project served. But she enjoyed the work. She was having fun playing with the models, and the pay was very good. “It was like having a real job,” she says.
Two days after Katya started, the project was abruptly paused. A few days after that, a supervisor popped into the room to let everyone know it had been canceled. “I’m working assuming that I can plan around this. I’m saving up for first and last month’s rent for an apartment,” Katya says, “and then I’m back on my ass. No warning, no security, nothing.” Several days later, she got an email from Mercor with another offer, this one for a job evaluating what seemed to be conversations between chatbots and real users — many appeared to be from peop