Automations aren't a lazy substitute; they're a time-saving stage crew that moves the props while the lead actor—your brand voice—gets center stage. Think triggers for real-time moments, drips to build relationships, and segments to personalize without hand-writing every send. The trick: automate the mechanics, not the personality.
Start with high-impact triggers: a crisp welcome series that orients and converts, cart-abandon reminders timed at 1 hour and 48 hours, post-purchase 'how-to' messages that reduce churn, and milestone nudges for anniversaries. For drips, map 3–6 touchpoints that graduate subscribers from curious to committed. Use dynamic snippets for names/products, but keep the subject and first sentence intentionally human—those decide opens.
Segment by behavior and value: recent buyers, dormant browsers, high-LTV customers, and product-specific fans. Suppression lists are your friend—avoid annoying already-converted folks. Run simple A/B tests on cadence and CTA, and track opens, CTR, and revenue per recipient. When a segment shows unusually high engagement, swap to a human-crafted campaign and invite conversation.
Operationally, map one customer journey, automate the first three touchpoints, and set weekly review windows for copy refreshes and metric checks. Keep a human checkpoint for VIP onboarding, complaint responses, and creative experiments. Automate the repetitive so you can handcraft the remarkable—then measure, tweak, and repeat.
Machines are brilliant at spitting out variations, but they don't feel the awkward first kiss, the nervous product launch, or the embarrassment of a recall. That's why the copy that defines how people remember you should be written by someone who lives in your brand: humans catch dialect, cultural cues, risky humor, and context. When your words might be quoted, memed, or passed to a friend, the first draft should come from a person who knows the backstory.
Brand voice & manifesto: those lines people repeat at parties. Product names & hero headlines: the five-to-eight words that win or lose attention. Customer apologies & sensitive comms: micro-empathy is not a template. Onboarding, pricing, and founder notes: clarity and trust generate real revenue and loyalty. In short, anything that carries identity, legal sensitivity, or long-term perception deserves a human touch.
Step 1 — Draft with constraints: write a raw, emotional draft (limit yourself to 60–120 words). Step 2 — Edit for voice: read it aloud, remove jargon, tighten rhythm, and add one unexpected human detail. Step 3 — Micro-test & iterate: show it to three people, collect one clear tweak, and finalize. Use AI to generate variants and polish, not as the sole author.
Keep a two-line brand backstory and a five-word tone checklist on your desk as guardrails; they're faster than a 40-page style guide. If a sentence should make someone laugh, cry, or hit "buy," write it yourself. Let the tools handle busywork, and let people write the heart.
Email and LinkedIn are cousins, not clones: email is your private inbox where patterns and repeatable flows live comfortably, while LinkedIn is a social room where personality and context matter. Treat email like a dependable sous-chef that handles the prep and follow-ups; treat LinkedIn like the chef's handshake — brief, human, and memorable. If you automate, automate mercilessly. If you humanize, do it visibly.
For email, template the scaffolding: subject formulas, the opening 2–3 sentence structure, follow-up cadence and short PS lines that can be tokenized. Keep these building blocks tight so you can swap in specifics quickly: Hook — Relevance — Social proof — CTA. But always hand-write the first sentence: it's the gatekeeper of attention. A standardized skeleton + a bespoke opener beats a generic spray every time.
On LinkedIn, flip the balance. Use templates for the strategy (connection ask + clear one-line value + friendly CTA), but make the opener bespoke. Reference a recent post, mutual connection, or company milestone in that first line — that small act of specificity signals you're not a bot. InMails can reuse subject hooks and CTAs, but the middle needs tailoring: show you understand the prospect's world before you propose a solution.
Practical workflow: build 3 email templates (intro, follow-up A, follow-up B) and 2 LinkedIn message frameworks, then force a manual edit stage where you rewrite or add the first 20–40 characters and one detail about the recipient. Track response rates, prune or double-down, and keep the brand voice in your custom lines. Automate the routine, craft the human touch — that's how you stop sounding like a machine and start sounding like a brand people want to reply to.
AI will spin up clean, on-brand drafts in seconds, but raw output often reads like a very polite robot. Spend about a fifth of your total time - roughly a 20 percent polish - to sharpen emotion, add human details, and tighten the ask and the conversion cue. That small investment regularly doubles open and response rates because humans buy from humans, not perfect placeholders.
Use a micro-edit checklist: refine the first 20 words so they hook, swap generic phrases for concrete specifics, swap one adjective for a short vivid image, tighten CTAs into single verbs, and remove any sentence that sounds like it came from a brochure. Prioritize empathy, clarity, and a touch of imperfection that signals authenticity.
Try a 10 minute makeover workflow: minute one, read the piece out loud and note stumbles; minutes two to four, rewrite the headline and lead; minutes five to seven, add one concrete example or client quote; minutes eight to ten, tighten CTA and proof for tone, and fix any awkward AI metaphors. Timeboxing makes the 20 percent feel like a power edit, not a rewrite.
Measure everything and teach your prompts with the results. Save your polished versions as style recipes so the AI learns the brand moves you prefer and the team shares shorthand edits. Over time the work shifts from heavy edits to light tuning, freeing creative time for ideas that only humans can make sticky. That is where response doubles become sustainable.
Nothing erodes brand trust faster than a confident-sounding message that is confidently wrong. When automated copy feels interchangeable, facts drift, or personalization reads like a fortune cookie, customers notice. Those are your red flags: tone mismatch, factual flubs, awkward "personal" touches, and broken handoffs — each one a tiny trust leak that eventually becomes a flood.
Some fails are theatrical: hallucinated claims, promises your team can't keep, or privacy slip-ups that make customers feel exposed. Others are banal but deadly — canned replies that ignore context, timing misfires that ping users at 3 a.m., and forms or flows that strand people instead of helping them. The result is predictable: frustration, complaints, and a higher churn rate.
Fixes start with constraints. Lock your brand voice into a short, usable style guide and feed that into your templates. Use retrieval-based systems for facts, add a verification step for any claim about product, price, or availability, and set safe defaults that refuse risky outputs. Human-in-the-loop isn't a cop-out — it's insurance for edge cases where nuance matters.
Operational guardrails matter too. Define clear escalation triggers, monitor a small random sample of automated interactions daily, and instrument rollback switches so you can kill a failing campaign faster than it can go viral. Track sentiment, error rate, and resolution time — those metrics tell you when automation helps and when it hides harm.
Make repair work practical: require a weekly brand-review for templates, run micro-A/B tests with real users, and keep an explicit policy for transparency so customers know when they're talking to a system. Small, deliberate limits on what you automate will preserve credibility — and let your humans shine where craft matters most.
Aleksandr Dolgopolov, 19 November 2025