Here we are. all. of. us.

This isn’t actually Day 1. We have been slogging through the depths of the AI revolution for over a year now. The days are long, the stress is real, and the dehumanization is, well, dehumanizing. This is the first day that I have decided to keep this log because I am now at least knee deep in it, and I would like to leave a trail in case I don’t come back out. What I have brought with me is a pencil, my sense of humor, my willingness to try, and my skepticism.

So, what is the landscape here on day 1? We are using these AI tools that some call agents to write requirements so that other agents can read them and produce software. The result right now is A LOT of text that we have to either choose to trust, or to read. I have chosen mostly to read, and every time I do, I find errors. Huge errors? Eggregious errors? Probably not.

All the reading is burning me out and slowly killing my soul. It means that I am interacting with a machine instead of with humans. If this is what Product Management will become, then I don’t think we will attract creative people. Our process has gone from the Agile methodology where we are very close with our teams and work quickly and iteratively, a process that values small chunks of bite sized work and iteration to huge chunks of text, and I assume code, where no human has read every word.

I haven’t yet seen the results. I was supposed to see results quickly. I suspect we’re doing it wrong, but how to convince my fellow travelers? It feels like we’re holding up a lantern in the dark and misunderstanding what we are seeing. I am searching for the light switch. I’ll let you know how that goes.

I often contemplate the end of the world as we know it: market crash, civil war, nuclear war, mass destruction caused by global warming. It is a little embarrassing to admit, though I assume I am not alone. It is not a far leap from where we are today, if you’re paying attention.

I wonder: should I be planning for this? buying guns? stockpiling food and water? building a bunker? The billionaires are building bunkers and buying land in remote areas (1). Will we later wish we had prepared for the worst instead of saving for a retirement that will never happen?

Assuming we don’t build a bunker, I wonder what my family would do in the case of disaster. In some of my imaginings, we die. In others, we are on the move, running to who knows where and from who knows what. In still others, our community comes together and helps one another.

These musings remind me to appreciate the things I have while I have them: a warm and comfortable house, good food that is easy to buy, clean running water. How convenient our phones, computers, connectedness. How lucky we are to have our health and healthcare. How far a fall it would be from this to nothing.

Then I remember how quaint (read enraging) these musings might be to the 60+ million people in the world who are in that very situation (2). Of course, I can’t pretend to know how they are feeling. Their world has collapsed. They have lost friends and family members. They have lost their homes, their cities, their countries, their livelihood. They have next to nothing. They are living the collapse I only imagine in horror.

Then I remember those billionaires building bunkers who could instead be building housing, or creating jobs.

Then I give money to UNICEF or the International Rescue Committee and I hope that it helps … but I know that it is not enough.