So much of what we hear about in business these days centers on the labor disruption AI is sure to bring, and in some cases, already is bringing.
The general consensus at this point in the AI cycle is that any job that’s essentially “information in, information out”—which describes basically all knowledge work—is ripe for automation.
This reality means most businesses are looking at their OpEx and realizing that with a few of the right tools, paired with the right people, they can bring their revenue-per-employee to historically high levels.
For the first time ever, we can do more with more or more with less, and both scenarios are likely to result in margin expansion.
As I heard one VC put it recently, we’re entering the “golden era of margin expansion.”
Which begs the question: What the hell are humans going to do when AI automates away basically everything we’ve been doing for the last century?
That’s the question New York Times writer Robert Capp wrestles with in his recent piece, “A.I. Might Take Your Job. Here Are 22 New Ones It Could Give You.”
He writes, “If we want to know what these new opportunities will be, we should start by looking at where new jobs can bridge the gap between A.I.’s phenomenal capabilities and our very human needs and desires.
“It’s not just a question of where humans want A.I., but also: Where does A.I. want humans? To my mind, there are three major areas where humans either are, or will soon be, more necessary than ever: trust, integration and taste.”
It’s that last one—taste—that I find particularly compelling.
Capp illustrates this with a viral “60 Minutes” clip featuring music producer Rick Rubin and Anderson Cooper.
In the interview, Cooper tries to understand what, exactly, Rubin does:
“Do you play instruments?” Cooper asks.
“Barely,” Rubin answers.
“Do you know how to work a sound board?”
“No,” Rubin says. “I have no technical ability. And I know nothing about music.”
After more back-and-forth, Cooper asks, “So what are you being paid for?”
Rubin’s answer cuts to the heart of it: “The confidence I have in my taste, and my ability to express what I feel, has proven helpful for artists.”
Of course, there’s more to what Rubin brings than just taste, but his answer highlights something crucial: in an AI-driven world, we’re moving toward a new kind of creative economy.
One where technical execution becomes automated, but the ability to recognize what’s worth creating—and guide that creation with conviction—becomes the premium skill.
I should point out that this concept isn’t entirely new.
As anyone who’s ever hired a designer or architect or producer knows, people are paid for their taste all the time.
The difference now is that AI amplifies its importance exponentially.
You might remember that one of the early suggestions for effective AI prompting is to focus on topics you know well, since you’ll more easily spot when the AI is hallucinating.
To me, this is essentially the same advice: You need to figure out where your taste matters.
As Capp writes, “When creative options are nearly limitless, people with the ability to make bold, stylish choices will be in demand. And this will be true not just for creative industries such as writing, filmmaking and advertising but for business of all kinds. Knowing what you want—and having a sense of what will resonate with customers—will be the core human role in developing products and systems.”
It’s worth thinking seriously about where you can be a tastemaker, because your business—like mine—might become more about understanding and expressing taste than about the products and services you’ve spent years building out.
In an AI-driven world, taste becomes strategy.
The question isn’t whether AI will change how we work; it’s whether you’ll develop the discernment to guide it effectively.