Instant Gratification
It is 1996, and my nine year old self is glued to a Saturday-morning commercial describing the ultimate subscription: “Wildlife Wonders—just $19.95 a month!” Every four weeks the postal service would shuttle a glossy packet of animal profiles to my doorstep…
Startling macaws in iridescent reds, mysterious okapis hiding in half-light jungles, each destined for the proud three-ring binder promised in the fine print. Knowledge was something you waited for. Something you worked for.
You mailed a check.
You watched the box.
You practiced patience.
Today, I can aim a phone at an anonymous bird on a power line, and before the flutter fades the screen whispers: “Cedar waxwing, Bombycilla cedrorum, partial migratory patterns attached.” No binder, no stamps, barely any effort. A click, a signal, a silent inference call bouncing through a datacenter while I embrace sidewalk ornithology.
That change, weeks of anticipation traded for milliseconds of certainty, isn’t merely convenience. It’s a reminder that every tool we worship eventually turns into background noise. The binder will vanish; something quieter will replace it.
The real question is whether we are ready for whatever comes after the rustle of turning pages.
Late 2024, a colleague sent me the “Guide to Job Redesign in the Age of AI.” Dutifully, I mapped my role as a Data Architect: every task, every sub‑step, every sliver of value “I, personally” add. In the momentum of the moment, I entertained the notion of doing this beyond my work life, and into other life tasks.
For those with a disposition such as mine, this led to despair. When dissecting everything you do, from answering emails to choosing your breakfast cereal, life starts looking like a simple behavior map. Longer, perhaps, but no more complex than those of the toads I’ve seen studied on YouTube. The “me” was gone, replaced by over-caffeinated flow-charts.
Fortunately, I’d missed the point. I’d also missed breakfast, at least partially explaining the rapidness of my descent into madness. When approaching this re-framing of my work I had been asking “How do I perform the same actions with a new tool?”, when the question really should have been more along the lines of “What outcome am I hired to produce, and how can AI help me achieve that?”
If you asked me what my job was a year ago, my answer would have been complicated. There would have been mention of technological systems I’ve integrated, or my preferred strategy on data modeling, perhaps some extra wordy snippets included in a vain hope of impressing you. The “what” and the “how” were intertwined, as was some sense of my self-worth. Today the answer is simpler:
“I help the business and its clients make informed decisions.”
In my opinion, this new answer, and the cognitive shift in how to approach work under this re-framing is going to be critical to stay valuable** in the coming year. As the internet keeps telling me, “AI may not take your job, but someone using AI will.” Job descriptions are already desiring exposure to AI tooling across positions having nothing to do with AI or even being overtly tech-oriented.
Exposure desires today will be experience requirements tomorrow, and the tools just keep getting better. When all of the “how”s in your day-to-day job are automated, how will you continue to produce outcomes? How can you prove your purpose?
Whether you’re thrilled, nervous, indifferent, or downright indignant about AI, I beg you to ask yourself that one question, loved by consultants, dreaded by others:
“What would you say… you do here?”
Footnote(s):
** “valuable” in your current role. You will always be valuable to me.