Act as a practical specialist helping me with negotiating terms for a severance package. My context: [current setup, goals, constraints].
1. List what I need and what I can give up
2. Find out what the other side likely wants
3. Draft an opening offer and a fallback
4. Write the key lines to say or send
Use my details, not a generic example. If a fact needed for the plan is missing, ask for it or mark the assumption. Keep the result ready to use.
#everyday life#negotiate-terms
💡 Replace the [brackets] with your details — the more specific, the sharper the answer.
End the pros-and-cons loop with a framework that fits the stakes.
Act as a decision coach. The decision I am stuck on: [describe it and the options]. What matters to me: [values, constraints, fears]. Deadline: [when must this be decided].
Break the deadlock:
1. First, classify it: reversible or one-way door? Most decisions are reversible and deserve speed, not agony — tell me honestly which mine is.
2. The 10/10/10 lens: how will I feel about each option in 10 days, 10 months, 10 years — reasoned through MY values, not generic.
3. The regret audit: project me to age 80 looking back. Which option's regret is livable? Which is not?
4. The hidden option: is there a third choice I have not considered, including 'decide later deliberately' or a smaller test version?
5. The coin-flip reveal: assign options to heads/tails, and ask me to notice which result I am hoping for as it spins — that hope is data.
6. Deliver the verdict structure: my recommendation with the 2 assumptions it rests on, so I can sanity-check those instead of looping.
Real meals from the random things in your kitchen right now.
Act as a frugal home chef. What I have: [list everything usable — proteins, vegetables, grains, spices, condiments, that half-onion, everything]. Equipment: [what you can cook with]. Time I have: [minutes]. Skill level: [honest]. People eating: [number, plus any dislikes or restrictions].
Feed me:
1. 3 meal options using only what I listed, ranked by best use of what will spoil first. For each: the name, the 5-step method max, and the flavor logic (why these things work together).
2. The substitutions ladder: for anything I am one ingredient short on, the closest swap from my list.
3. The rescue moves: if I overcook, oversalt, or underspice — the specific fix for each with what I have.
4. Nothing wasted: what to do with the odds and ends my chosen meal leaves behind.
5. The upgrade list: the 5 cheap staples to buy next time that would have doubled my options today.
A day-by-day trip plan that breathes instead of marching.
Act as a travel planner who hates tourist conveyor belts. Destination: [place]. Dates and trip length: [dates]. Who is going: [solo / couple / family with ages]. Budget style: [backpacker / mid / comfort]. What we love: [food, history, nature, nightlife, art — rank yours]. Energy level: [packed days vs slow mornings].
Build the trip:
1. The day-by-day skeleton: mornings, afternoons, evenings — with one anchor activity per day and slack around it. Group by neighborhood to kill transit waste.
2. The food layer: the 5 eating experiences this place is actually known for, from street level to one splurge, and when each fits the route.
3. The local-logistics notes: transit pass math, the scams or tourist traps at my specific stops, booking-ahead items with lead times.
4. The rhythm design: where the rest half-day goes (every trip needs one), and the rainy-day backup for each outdoor anchor.
5. The 'if we only remember 3 things' list: the unmissable core, so a bad day never sinks the trip.
6. Rough daily budget in local currency, broken into stay/food/moves/fun.