An AI tool that saves two hours has an easy value story. What about a tool that helps someone finally send their parents an update?
“Emotion is priceless” is an appealing answer. It also ends the conversation before the useful questions begin.
We do not ask a film to produce measurable work before buying a ticket. Enjoyment, a keepsake, and feeling closer to someone are legitimate reasons to spend money. An AI product still needs to explain what it improves and why someone would return.
Why a bowl of noodles never gets sent
Consider a hypothetical scene. You take a photo of dinner, open the family chat, and put the phone down.
Typing may not be the difficult part. In your head, the next conversation has already happened: who were you eating with, why so late, are you working too much again? Your parents may not actually ask. Anticipating the exchange is enough to make you postpone it.
You wanted to share a bowl of noodles. Your mind scheduled a meeting.
Which part does “generate a message in three seconds” solve? You still choose what to say, supply the material, check the draft, and respond to the reply. Generation is one segment of the journey.
If the tool saves ten minutes of typing but creates fifteen minutes of deleting feelings you never had, the total is not an improvement. A solemn message can also leave the recipient feeling obliged to compose an equally solemn response.
Time saved by the sender should not simply become work for the recipient.
Start with people who already want to do it
“Help everyone care more about each other” is tempting as a mission and dangerous as a default behavior.
Infrequent contact has different causes. Someone lacks a topic. Someone is busy. Someone wants distance. A product that pushes all three toward sending becomes an electronic headteacher.
I would begin with people who already want to share but repeatedly get stuck selecting and explaining. Helping them do that with less effort is a concrete improvement.
Sometimes the right message is “Dinner turned out pretty well.” Sometimes someone has a lot to say and needs help shaping it. Length is not the measure. The question is whether the expression fits what the person wanted to communicate.
One update that both people welcome may matter more than seven automated check-ins.
After “my parents would love this”
I would take that reaction seriously. Then I would ask: would you use it yourself? Again next week? Who would pay?
The two sides of a relationship product need separate attention. If parents enjoy the result but their child spends half an hour repairing every draft, the reason to keep using it is weak. If the child sends easily but the parents feel they received a generic announcement, something important is still missing.
Payment introduces another distinction. Enjoying the message does not imply wanting a subscription. A parent buying one for their child can even make a voluntary gesture feel like homework.
A more useful early signal is a person returning after some time, without a reminder from the team. Even then, I want to know whether the product did the work or whether the founder quietly prepared the material again.
The input is part of the product
Demos often begin with a beautifully organized life record. Real use has to explain where that record came from.
If someone must write a detailed diary before the AI can produce a short message, that preparation belongs in the experience. If the team hand-selects every meaningful moment, that labor belongs in the cost.
A product needed once a year may suit a one-off purchase. Weekly use might support a subscription. Pricing should follow the behavior rather than arrive before we understand it.
I think there is room beyond productivity. I want to make something a person already wants to do easier, then see whether they return, pay, and receive an improvement we can afford to deliver.
Feelings may be priceless. The product still needs to do the accounting.