Hi, my name’s Thad, and I may have a problem.

It started innocently. A quick query here, a clever prompt there. Just a bit of ChatGPT to help draft a tricky email. Maybe a touch of Claude to bounce around architecture ideas. I told myself it was just research. “Everyone uses AI,” I said. “I can stop whenever I want.”

But here I am, months later, building iPhone apps in Pythonista, automating routines with N8N, and crafting tools for tyre pressure tracking, gate code management, and bin collection reminders in Claude and Replit. I’ve gone from CTO to something dangerously close to… a developer.

And I love it. My wife, perhaps, a little less so.

I now refer to this condition as AIA: Artificial Intelligence Anonymous — a support group for those of us who intended to dabble and ended up rebuilding our lives one script at a time.

Is This What Being a Developer Feels Like?

Because I’ve got to say… it’s a rush.

There’s something intoxicating about taking a rough idea — often from a napkin or a 3am thought spiral — and turning it into a functional app by breakfast. The friction between ideation and execution is melting. The old lag — dependency on others, prioritisation meetings, waiting — it’s gone.

And here’s the revelation:

I’ve spent years around two distinct groups — the idea generators and the implementers. One dreams, the other delivers. And the overlap? Historically, very slim.

But now, those who dream can also deliver. Not because we’ve become pro coders, but because the barriers to delivery have dropped dramatically. With AI copilots, the bridge between vision and reality is now walkable by one person.

Of Course, There’s a Catch

Just because I can build a working prototype doesn’t mean I’ve replaced the experienced engineer. The next level — the production-grade, multi-user, high-availability solution — still belongs to the pros.

But I can now accelerate from zero to 60 without needing a pit crew. And that changes how I work — and what I choose to work on.

The Productivity High (and Crash?)

This addiction delivers a serious dopamine hit. The productivity gains are real. I’ve automated workflows, built mini-products, solved problems no vendor ever would — because they only mattered to me.

But like all highs, there’s risk. The risk of automating everything. Of losing sight of when not to build.

So yes, I may need AIA. But not because I’m spiraling.

Because we all might need a way to talk about how AI is reshaping how we work, express ideas, and build.

We’re entering an era where non-developers can build. Where ideas don’t have to wait for delivery pipelines. Where software creation may shift from a specialist skill… to a shared language.

I, for one, am all in. I’ll bring the tea to the next AIA meeting.

Here’s a polished and thought-provoking blog post draft based on your concept. I’ve kept the tone insightful and professional, suitable for platforms like LinkedIn, and included clear thematic structure and metaphor:

The Rise of the AI Orchestra: What Happens When the Junior Seats Are Empty?

We’re standing at the edge of a radical shift in how we work—one that will be as transformative as the industrial revolution or the birth of the internet. The future of work, powered by agentic AI, is already reshaping industries at a pace that leaves little room for tradition.

Across sectors—from law firms to software companies—junior roles are disappearing. Not because the work is vanishing, but because AI is increasingly capable of performing the foundational tasks once assigned to trainees, associates, and interns. Research, drafting, testing, analysis—many of these tasks are now handled more quickly, more cheaply, and often more accurately by AI agents.

But this raises a fundamental question:

How do you become the conductor if you never get to play second violin?

In this emerging world, senior roles won’t vanish—but they will transform. Leaders will no longer manage teams of humans alone, but direct armies of AI agents. Their job won’t be to do the work, but to orchestrate it—to design workflows, ensure quality, provide ethical oversight, and steer outcomes. They’ll be conductors, not performers.

And that brings us to the core dilemma: the ladder we once climbed is breaking in the middle. Without entry-level opportunities, how do new talent gain the experience, judgment, and resilience needed to eventually lead?

This isn’t just a theoretical concern. It’s a structural risk. Like the dot-com bubble of the early 2000s, we’ll see plenty of hype, overreach, and inevitable collapse in some quarters. But this time, the pace of change means fewer safety nets, fewer alternative routes, and fewer second chances.

So what can we do?

We must rethink the journey entirely.

• Education systems must adapt to teach orchestration, not just execution.
• Organizations must create AI-era apprenticeships—roles that are less about repetition, more about insight and curation.
• Individuals must become relentless learners, willing to switch tracks mid-journey, to ride the AI train and change carriages as needed.

Because whether we like it or not, the orchestra is already assembling. The question is: who will be left holding the baton?

Let me know if you’d like a more casual, punchy version, or a shorter version for a newsletter or internal leadership update.