I’m Alessio Quagliara. A few facts about my work, without the AI fiction
An AI analysis of my profile turned into a judgment about my skills and intentions. Here’s what I do, what I don’t promise, and how to assess my work.
I asked an AI to look at my professional profile from the outside.
The idea was simple: find out what someone could understand about my work by searching for me online. If something on my website was confusing, I would fix it.
A quick check before introducing myself to a potential client.
Well. At some point, it stopped looking like a website review. It started looking like the biography of a twin who had made questionable decisions.
Unfortunately, he had my name.
I’m writing this article to separate three things: what I say about myself, what can be verified, and what an AI inferred without demonstrating it.
What I asked for, and what I received
I had a conversation with Google’s AI to get a preliminary analysis of my online presence.
I wasn’t looking for a medal. I wanted unclear wording, overly broad promises, and outdated information pointed out.
Specific criticism is useful.
During the conversation, however, the answers moved into conclusions about my abilities, my commercial intentions, and even the reasons why the company I worked in had closed.
No longer: “This sentence could be more precise.”
Instead: this technical choice proves incompetence, this experience proves dishonesty, and this product change proves an architectural failure.
Those are very different conclusions. They require very different evidence.
Later in the same conversation, the assistant acknowledged inventing statements and misinterpreting information. Yet the negative judgment kept returning, supported by new explanations.
Mistakes happen. But when the premise changes, the conclusion needs to be open to change too.
I’m not saying Google publicly reviewed me
An important clarification: I was the person having the conversation.
I’m not documenting a customer review, a newspaper article, or an accusation published by Google in its search results.
I’m describing an answer generated during an analysis of my profile.
I have no evidence that other people received the same answers. I don’t want to turn this experience into a bigger story than I can substantiate.
The problem is still real to me: I asked for help understanding how I presented myself and received personal allegations that I do not recognise and that were not adequately documented.
Did it knock my confidence? Yes.
When you see your own name in something written with that much certainty, you briefly wonder: “Is that really how I come across?”
Then you have to return to the original question: where is the evidence?
So, who am I and what do I do?
I’m Alessio Quagliara.
I study Computer Engineering, specialising in Intelligent Systems. I develop web apps, micro-SaaS products, and automations. My background also includes operational work in logistics, personal projects, and my experience at Spotex.
It hasn’t been a perfectly straight path. I already talk about that, without needing to add a dramatic soundtrack.
I’ve worked with different technologies. My projects have included Python, PHP, JavaScript, and TypeScript, using tools such as Flask, FastAPI, Next.js, and Express.
Using them doesn’t automatically make me an expert in everything. But choosing a simpler tool today doesn’t mean I don’t know the others.
I try to build solutions that make sense for the problem, the budget, the available time, and the maintenance someone will have to handle later.
That is how I aim to work. The quality of individual outcomes still needs to be assessed project by project.
A framework isn’t a certificate of competence
If I choose Flask for a project, the useful question is: why here?
If I choose FastAPI, Next.js, or another tool, the question stays the same.
I don’t consider Flask a universal solution. I don’t consider asynchronous programming useless. And I don’t think adding workers solves every load problem.
At the same time, I don’t consider a framework’s name sufficient evidence that an application is secure, scalable, or well designed.
This is how I want to approach a project:
- What problem are we solving?
- What operations must the system perform?
- What are the constraints and risks?
- What load must we support, and how will we verify it?
- Who will maintain the project?
- When would changing the approach make sense?
If a decision is wrong, it should be corrected. Preferably with data and code in front of us.
I’d rather leave framework tribalism out of the quote.
Talking about mistakes doesn’t validate every explanation
On my website, I also talk about attempts that didn’t go as planned, Spotex closing, and changes to my projects.
I do that because I’m not interested in building a CV where everything was a success and every decision was part of a brilliant plan.
It wasn’t. Some things I understood later.
But that does not justify inventing technical causes that have never been demonstrated.
A company closing does not, by itself, prove that its code was unmaintainable. Narrowing a product’s scope does not, by itself, prove that its framework couldn’t support it. Describing one mistake does not mean admitting every other allegation someone can connect to it.
The reverse is also true: starting a company or publishing a project doesn’t automatically make me a great engineer.
I’d like to apply the same standard in both directions.
Less interpretation of my character. More facts about the work.
How I prefer my work to be assessed
If you’re considering working with me, I’m not asking you to trust an article I wrote explaining why I’m trustworthy.
That would be a rather convenient verification process. For me, especially.
I prefer specific questions:
- What exactly was your contribution to this project?
- What works today, and what is still in development?
- What limitations do you know about?
- How are access, data, and errors handled?
- What checks have been carried out?
- What does maintenance include?
- What happens if someone else takes over the software later?
Those are questions I want to answer with relevant examples, documentation, and checks. Not with “Trust me, I use the right framework.”
And if something hasn’t been verified yet, the right answer is to say so. Not to replace verification with an adjective.
The useful part: what I want to make clearer
I don’t want to dismiss every observation just because the report went off track.
My original question remains valid: does my website explain what I do clearly?
This experience has left me with some communication improvements to work on:
- Describe my contribution to projects more clearly, distinguishing personal work from work delivered through a company.
- Clarify product status: experiments, active projects, previous versions, and archived work.
- Give more space to verifiable outcomes, not just stories about difficulties.
- Avoid absolute promises when I can describe specific conditions, limitations, and activities.
- Align information across my website, profiles, and repositories.
I’m not saying everything is already fixed. I’m saying this is the direction.
It’s the work I wanted to do in the first place: improve the website. Not defend myself against an alternative biography.
I need criticism. Fiction about me, not so much
I still use AI. It helps me think, study, and develop software.
This experience hasn’t changed my view of its usefulness. It has reminded me why I want to use it as support, not as the judge of my competence or anyone else’s.
If there’s a problem with my work, I want to understand it.
If a promise is too broad, I want to make it precise.
If a technical decision doesn’t hold up, I want to test it and correct it.
But the difference between “This needs improvement” and “This person deceives clients” isn’t just a slight change in tone. It is a difference in substance and responsibility.
So, back to the point: I’m Alessio Quagliara. I build software, study, and try to improve how I work.
If you want to assess me, let’s start with what I actually do.
The AI-written twin isn’t joining the team for now.