Essay 05 / 08 · November 2025 · 2 min · Quick read

What I Tell Juniors Now

The bottom rungs of the career ladder are being automated away. Here is what I say to the people who were about to stand on them.

What I Tell Juniors Now — hero artwork

Subject

career

Catalogue

05 / 08

Published

November 2025

Idea: AI · Draft: AI · Edit: AI · AI-written placeholder

A student asked me the question after a guest lecture, in the tone of someone who has been carrying it for a while: “Everything you said juniors do, the AI now does. So what am I for?” I have given the polished conference answer to that question many times. She deserved the honest one, and this is my attempt to write it down.

The honest answer starts with an admission. The tasks I cut my teeth on — the routine configurations, the first-draft scripts, the tickets nobody senior wanted — really are disappearing into the machines. The old deal, where you traded years of grunt work for gradually acquired judgment, is broken, and it was not you who broke it. Grieving the ladder you were promised is allowed. Briefly.

But the grunt work was never the point of the grunt work. It was the tuition we happened to charge for judgment: you did the small thing a hundred times, and somewhere around attempt sixty you started to smell when something was off. What is actually scarce now is not the doing — it is exactly that smell, plus the willingness to own an outcome. So your job is to acquire judgment without the traditional tuition, and that is genuinely possible, because the machines that took the reps also made the reps free.

The grunt work was never the point. It was the tuition we charged for judgment.

Concretely: never delegate what you cannot yet evaluate. Use the machine constantly, then check it the hard way — run it, break it, trace why it worked — until your verdicts get sharp. Volunteer for verification; reviewing ten solutions teaches faster than writing one. Own something small end to end, so that when it fails at four in the morning, the lesson is addressed to you personally. Failure that reaches you is the fastest teacher there has ever been.

And learn the parts machines are worst at, which have not changed: understanding what the person across the table actually needs, saying a clear no, noticing what nobody wrote down. Every automated process still ends at a human who must decide to trust it. Become the kind of person whose name makes that trust easier, and there will always be a rung for you.

You asked what you are for. You are for the same thing juniors were always for: becoming the senior. Only the route changed. It is steeper now, shorter, and honestly more interesting — and you get to climb it with the strongest tools anyone has ever been handed on day one.