By ICG member Camille Gerbaud
My chatbot colleague and me
I use AI every day, and I’m the first to admit it’s become a kind of desk buddy. The kind who’s always around, never takes a lunch break, and agrees with absolutely everything I say.
Working solo as a qualitative researcher means there’s no one to bounce half-formed ideas off, no “Is this a real insight or just a nice quote?” over a lukewarm instant coffee in a novelty Christmas mug that’s somehow still in rotation mid-May, and no “Would you flag this as a theme or leave it?” while scrolling through transcripts. So, I talk to AI throughout the day. I’ll ask it to help brainstorm questions for a discussion guide or come up with creative activities for an online community. I’ll feed it transcripts and ask for summaries to check against my own impressions. I even use it at the end of a project to double-check that my report covers the brief, basically outsourcing my imposter syndrome to a chatbot.
In that sense, it’s more than just a tool. It helps me think aloud. And honestly, we should normalise that. Talking to yourself isn’t a sign of madness, it’s a productivity hack. Research indicates that external self-talk can enhance focus, problem-solving, and emotional regulation. So, if you work alone, AI becomes the colleague who’s always available, never interrupts, and doesn’t judge you for having the same conversation multiple times a day.
No small talk, no problem
Earlier this year, I travelled to Japan for the first time and one of the first things I noticed was the silence. Not just in the streets or on the trains, but in the small interactions where I instinctively expected chatter. At the hotel reception, at the cashier, even during a kimono fitting, there was no small talk, no “How long are you staying?” or “Have you been to Kyoto yet?”. Just a polite smile and the quiet efficiency of someone doing their job without the need to fill the space with words.
It caught me off guard. I kept trying to initiate those little exchanges, out of habit mostly, and each time, the silence that followed felt awkward. But the more it happened, the more I realised that the awkwardness was mine. In Japan, silence isn’t a gap to be filled. It’s part of the experience. A sign of respect, even. At the tea ceremony, I watched someone take what felt like an entire hour to make a single cup of matcha. Every movement was careful, deliberate, unhurried. It made me realise how much I’m used to speeding things up, even rituals I claim to value, like tea.
It also made me reflect on how we interpret silence in research. In France, a pause in a conversation might just be that, a pause. A second to think, or breathe, or let a thought settle. In Japan, it could be the same, or something else entirely. But you’d never know unless you understand the cultural rhythm behind it. You can’t just translate the language and call it insight. You need someone who speaks the unspoken too.
Reading the room is not in the prompt
What Japan reminded me is that what we call “normal” is just what we’re used to. It takes being outside of your own culture to realise how much of your behaviour is shaped by it. Back in France, for example, silence isn’t necessarily awkward. A pause doesn’t mean someone is disengaged. And if a participant frowns, interrupts, or says “Non, c’est pas ça,” it doesn’t mean they’re upset. It just means they’re thinking. Engaged. Being French.
This is the kind of nuance AI can’t read. It would flag those moments as red. It would miss the fact that the person actually enjoyed the conversation, opened up, and even stayed on the call longer to keep talking. I’ve had this happen often, especially in B2B interviews with senior professionals. People who don’t always show warmth in an obvious way. But at the end, they’ll thank me for the exchange, say how much they appreciated the space to talk, and use words like “bienveillance”. You’d never guess that just by reading the transcript.
That’s what being a culturally fluent researcher means. It’s not just about knowing the language. It’s about knowing when to soften your tone, when to hold a silence, when to fill it. When to back off. When to lean in. It’s about reading the room in real time: facial tension, hesitation, irritation, curiosity, and adjusting. Not based on scripts or sentiment scores but based on experience. Based on instinct.
AI is brilliant at helping me stay sharp. It speeds things up, keeps me organised, and lets me think out loud when no one else is around. But tools are just tools. They need human context. They need someone who knows when a frown means “I’m thinking”, not “I’m done.”
(1) Camille Gerbaud | LinkedIn