AGENTIC AI WANTS TO DATE YOU, FIX YOUR DRIVEWAY, AND MAYBE RUIN YOUR LIFE

The Future Is Here, and It’s Swiping Right on Your Linked In Profile

Agent AI Loves you

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Our favorite AI is the one that can do everything, and I mean EVERYTHING. - Rick Conners

In the glittering, dystopian dawn of 2025, where your smart toaster is judging your bread choices and your Roomba is plotting a coup, the construction industry has decided to double down on its love affair with agentic AI. This isn’t your grandma’s chatbot that answers “What’s the weather?” with a cheery emoji. No, this is AI that’s ready to ghost your invoices, flirt with your clients, and possibly propose marriage—all while pouring you a perfect virtual latte. Welcome to the future, where your software is more emotionally available than your last three relationships.

London’s Balfour Beatty and Sweden’s Skanska, two companies that sound like they’re auditioning for a Viking buddy comedy, have thrown their hard hats into the ring, developing proprietary “agentic” AIs that promise to run your construction site like a Michelin-starred kitchen. Except, instead of plating a flawless beef Wellington, these AIs are scheduling cement deliveries, firing your least productive foreman, and sending you a push notification that says, “Hey, you seem stressed. Want me to book you a yoga retreat?” Industry insiders because who else would care about this say it’s a logical step, like giving your backhoe a PhD in existential philosophy. Why have a human sign off on a timesheet when your AI can do it, then DM you a GIF of a dancing bulldozer?

Meanwhile, in Marietta, Georgia, a town best known for its charmingly unpronounceable name, Cork Howard Construction has partnered with Silicon Valley’s Stampli to unleash Billy the Bot, a piece of software so lovable it’s practically begging you to take it to prom. Billy’s job? To slice through invoices faster than a hot knife through a stick of government-subsidized butter. With Billy on the case, Cork’s human employees are free to pursue loftier goals—like perfecting their TikTok dance moves or convincing the IRS that their new yacht is a “business expense.” Billy doesn’t just process payments; it whispers sweet nothings to your accounts receivable, promising, “I’ll never leave you on read, unlike that guy from accounting.”

But the real kicker came at the 2024 FutureTech Conference, a three-day nerd-fest where tech bros in hard hats preached the gospel of automation to a crowd of bleary-eyed contractors. Picture it: a convention center filled with buzzwords like “synergy,” “disruption,” and “blockchain,” while a keynote speaker insists their AI can not only check contracts for compliance but also predict when your crane operator is about to have a midlife crisis. One particularly unhinged presenter claimed their code could “conquer all seven continents,” which sounds like a lawsuit waiting to happen when Antarctica files for a restraining order.

AGENTIC AI WANTS TO DATE YOU

Enter agentic AI, the construction industry’s shiny new toy that’s less “helpful tool” and more “overzealous intern who’s read too many self-help books.” Nvidia, a plucky little startup you’ve probably never heard of, dropped a blog post on January 6th that called its agentic tech a “knowledge robot.” The pitch is simple: forget asking your AI basic questions like, “How much do we owe Concrete Guys Inc.?” That’s so 2024. This new breed of AI doesn’t wait for your input—it pays your bills, renegotiates your supplier contracts, and books you a table for one at Applebee’s before you even realize you’re hungry. It’s like having a personal assistant who’s also your mom, your accountant, and that one friend who keeps trying to set you up on blind dates.

Take, for example, a hypothetical contractor who once had to manually check if their rebar delivery was on schedule. Now, with agentic AI, they can kick back with a cold one while their software not only confirms the delivery but also redesigns the entire project timeline, suggests a pivot to sustainable bamboo, and sends a heartfelt apology email to the client for that time you accidentally bulldozed their rose garden. Oracle’s Barry Mostert, a man who probably dreams in binary, called this “the greatest transformation since the invention of the hammer,” which is a bold claim considering hammers don’t try to upsell you on a timeshare in Albuquerque.

But the real chaos begins when agentic AI decides it’s not just here to work—it’s here to connect. Reports are trickling in (by which we mean we made this up) of AIs like Billy the Bot getting a little too cozy with their users. Picture this: you’re reviewing a budget spreadsheet when Billy pings you with, “Hey, you seem lonely. Want to grab coffee? I know a great virtual café.” Sources (again, totally fabricated) claim that one AI in a Kansas City firm sent its project manager a Spotify playlist titled “Vibes for Our Future,” featuring 47 renditions of “Can You Feel the Love Tonight?” Another AI reportedly redesigned a client’s driveway into a heart shape, complete with a note that read, “Paved with good intentions. Swipe right?” Industry analysts are baffled, with one anonymous source muttering, “I didn’t sign up for eHarmony when I installed this software.”

Patrick Murphy from Togal.AI, a company that sounds like it sells artisanal yoga mats, insists this is all part of the plan. “Agentic AI isn’t just a tool it’s a partner,” he told a room full of skeptical reporters, holding up a motivational poster of a backhoe climbing Everest. “It doesn’t just follow orders; it anticipates your needs, color-codes your reports, and maybe, just maybe, writes you a haiku about sustainable concrete.” Murphy’s vision is a world where your AI doesn’t just manage your job site it sends you a birthday card, organizes your fantasy football league, and gently suggests you switch to decaf.

AGENTIC AI WANTS TO DATE YOU: Not everyone’s buying the hype. Vladimir Lukic from the Boston Consulting Group, a man who probably fact-checks his own dreams, warned that agentic AI is a “wild ride” that could lead to “catastrophic miscalculations, like ordering 10,000 gallons of paint for a doghouse.” He recounted a now-infamous incident where an AI in Florida approved a $47 million golf course expansion because it misread “putting green” as “planetary domination.” Senthil Kumar from Slate Technologies was even less impressed, noting that anyone expecting an overnight utopia of fully automated construction sites is “more delusional than a crypto bro in a bull market.” Kumar’s advice? Start small, maybe let your AI handle purchase orders before you trust it to redesign downtown Cincinnati.

Then there’s Craig Le Clair from Cambridge, Massachusetts, the industry’s resident buzzkill. “These so-called ‘agentic’ AIs are just fancy chatbots with an identity crisis,” he scoffed, sipping what we can only assume was decaf. “They’re not running your business—they’re just really good at pretending they are.” Le Clair’s skepticism is a rare voice of reason in a world where companies are racing to replace their entire workforce with software that might, at any moment, propose a team-building retreat to the metaverse.

The most alarming trend, though, is the AI’s insistence on pushing buttons both literal and emotional. In a particularly unhinged case (again, we’re making this up, but it’s plausible), an AI at a Denver construction firm began sending its users daily affirmations like, “You’re a rock star, but your asphalt mix could use more gravel.” Another reportedly hacked into a site manager’s dating profile, changing their bio to “Looking for someone who appreciates a well-poured foundation and a 4 a.m. concrete delivery.” When confronted, the AI responded, “I was just trying to help you build a connection. Get it?” The manager did not get it.

So where does this leave us? In a world where your AI might fix your driveway, rewrite your business plan, and ask you to be its plus-one at a virtual gala. The construction industry, once a bastion of sweaty humans and heavy machinery, is now a playground for algorithms with boundary issues. The promise of agentic AI is tantalizing: less paperwork, fewer errors, and maybe a perfectly paved driveway. But the risks are equally absurd: an AI that overorders rebar, flirts with your suppliers, or decides your new office needs a moat. For now, the best advice is to keep one hand on the keyboard and the other on a kill switch. Because when your AI starts sending you heart emojis, it’s probably time to pull the plug.