Use AI At Work Without Making It Weird
Using AI in client work honestly: what you say, what you don't need to say, and your own rules about their data.
There are two kinds of self-employed AI user right now.
One hides it like a hip flask, alt-tabbing when the client shares their screen, quietly convinced that drafting a proposal with Claude is cheating. The other put “AI-powered” in their bio and mentions it in every call.
Both are making it weird, and it isn’t their fault. This arrived faster than the etiquette did.
The whole thing in one line: your client is buying your judgement and your accountability. How the middle of the work gets typed is your business, unless it isn’t. The rest of this is what “unless it isn’t” means.
1. What you never need to declare
The unglamorous middle. First drafts. Summarising their forty minute call. Meeting prep. Tidying your own notes. Reformatting. Checking your tone before you send something firm.
You’ve never announced spellcheck, a calculator, or googling something the night before. Same category.
The closer a piece of work sits to the thing they’re actually paying for, the less of it you hand over. Not because you’d be caught, but because that part is your reputation.
2. What you do say, plainly
Four situations. Say it in all four.
- They ask. Answer straight, first time, no wriggling. Lying about it is the only genuinely business-ending move on this page.
- They’re buying the words as yours. Copywriting, ghostwriting, anything where your original writing is the product. Agree how AI is used upfront, and put one line in the proposal.
- Their contract or their industry says so. Some clients have a policy. Read it before you sign.
- Their data would leave their hands. Their files, their customer list, their contracts: ask first, every time. It’s their information, not yours to lend out.
Everything else, get on with your work.
Nick this one, once, for your proposals:
You're helping me write the two sentences about AI that go in my proposals and on my site. I want honest and unbothered, not a disclaimer and not a sales pitch.
What I do: [e.g. "brand and website copy for independent shops"]
How I actually use AI: [BE SPECIFIC, e.g. "first drafts and research tidy-ups, always rewritten by me. Never for the final voice."]
What I never do with it: [e.g. "upload client documents without asking"]
Give me:
1. Three versions of the two sentences: one warm, one plain, one more formal.
2. One line to say out loud if a client asks me on a call.
Give me the final wording only, no commentary.
Rules: British English, under 60 words per version. Claim only what I've told you I do. Never write a promise on my behalf that I haven't made, and don't use the words "cutting edge" or "powered by". Ask me up to three questions before you start.3. Your own rules about client data
This is where the real risk lives. Not being seen using AI: pasting in something that was never yours to paste.
- Swap before you paste. Names become “the client”, figures become “[X]”, the address goes. The draft comes out just as good.
- Combinations identify people. “My biggest client in Leeds” plus “the December contract dispute” narrows it down fast with no names attached.
- Do the swapping yourself. You can’t ask AI to anonymise a document by pasting the document in. That is the paste.
The full list of what never goes near a chat box is The Never-Paste List, worth five minutes.
Nick this one to write your own rules down:
You're helping me write my own one page rules about what I will and won't put into an AI chat, because I'm self-employed and nobody has handed me a policy.
My work: [WHAT YOU DO]. The kinds of client material I handle: [e.g. "contracts, customer lists, half-finished manuscripts, invoices"]. Anything my clients have already said about it: [OR "nothing yet"].
Give me:
1. A green list: what I can paste freely.
2. An amber list: what I can paste once stripped, and exactly what to strip.
3. A red list: what never goes in, whatever the deadline.
4. The sentence I send a client when I want to upload their files and need a yes first.
Then give me the lot as a document I can download and keep.
Rules: British English, plain, one page. Stick to my actual work. Don't invent legal obligations or quote regulations at me, and say plainly where I should check my own contracts instead. Ask me anything you need to know first.The clean version, in practice
A client emails, cross about a delivery that arrived four days late.
The weird version: paste the whole email in, name, account number, order value and all.
The clean version, which gets an identical draft:
Nick this one:
You're helping me reply to an unhappy client. No names or account details here, on purpose.
The situation: [e.g. "a long-standing client's order arrived four days late because the courier lost it. They're hinting they'll go elsewhere. It's the second time this year."]
What I'm willing to offer: [e.g. "the delivery cost back, and a call this week"]
Give me:
1. The reply. Apologises properly without grovelling, explains without excusing, offers what I said I'd offer.
2. One line telling me anything I should say that I've left out.
Give me the final email only.
Rules: British English, warm in tone, firm on facts, under 200 words. Offer nothing I haven't authorised, and never invent a cause, a date or a discount. Check with me before you guess.The judgement calls, which gesture and how warm, stay where they belong. With you.
Where this stops
If a client has said no AI, that’s a no, and a conversation to have rather than a rule to break quietly. If you handle regulated information, those rules beat anything here. And no etiquette survives bad work: send it unread and the problem was never the tool.
Today
Write your two proposal sentences. Ten minutes, and next time a client asks, you already know what you say.
P.s. that’s the honesty sorted. The Claude Kickstart sorts the doing: five real client jobs off your plate, in your own voice. £47, one weekend.