The cost of AI

A variant on Moore’s law is the observation that the financial capital required to launch a new business decreases exponentially as technology gets cheaper.

Pre-internet, and using a notional geometric scale for the purposes of illustration, you might have needed $5m to found and build a new venture. The World Wide Web probably reduced that to $500k, while cloud computing brought it down to $50k. With the expansion of SaaS and API solutions, that cost might have been $5k to get going. Now, vibe coding and $500 of AI prompts can probably launch a new website, build a back end database, implement an e-commerce solution and deploy agentic AI bots to go and find your first customers.

This is a great outcome if measured by a lower barrier to market entry. It also enables founders to “fail fast, fail cheap”, and incentivises innovation by financially de-risking the process.

But even though the cost of AI tools is extraordinarily cheap in terms of the computing and processing power they deliver, there is a huge cost to our rapid adoption of AI that needs to be accounted for.

First, we are seeing corporate lay-offs among tech firms and parts of the service industry that no longer need as many human bodies and minds to operate at scale. So there is a human, economic and societal cost of increased un(der)employment.

Second, traditional skills and expertise are being hugely reduced in perceived value – why pay a graphic artist to design an image when I can use dall-e for free?

Third, as more and more creative tasks are being outsourced or delegated to AI (“create a short story about an F1 race in the style of Ernest Hemingway”) we risk losing our own innate creativity (that comes with experimentation, curiosity, play and reflection). This in turn devalues the creative process itself (thanks to cheaper, AI-enabled production).

Fourth, AI (and the Large Language Models on which it is trained) has no great respect for intellectual property. It doesn’t recognise boundaries between copyright material, content that is subject to creative commons, content that is in the public domain, and content which is publicly available. Again, if copyright owners and original content creators are not recognised or compensated for their work, why would anyone aspire to creating anything original?

Finally, there is the cost of resources (energy, water, rare earth metals) needed to maintain huge AI processing plants and data centres. (But at least this demand is accelerating the development of renewable energy.)

A few years ago, I posted a blog about the importance of the human factor, in the face of technological progress brought by automation and AI. I still remain cautiously optimistic that AI will bring huge benefits, despite the rampant growth of AI in the three years since I wrote that piece. But we are currently in an awkward and comfortable transition phase. If more jobs are lost to AI, and if human-led output is increasingly devalued, perhaps we will need to revisit the debate about Universal Basic Income and other policies to facilitate this transition.

Next week: Music, music everywhere…. and none of it very memorable 

Non-linear Career Development

I’ve recently been asked several times, mainly by younger people in their 20s, what do I actually do for work, and how did I end up doing what I do?

Regular readers will know that career development is a topic I have commented on many times in past articles, either as a result of my coaching and consulting engagements, or in response to the current state of the world.

This month marks 10 years since I started working in the crypto and digital asset industry. While it’s not a full-time job, and I serve as a freelance consultant, it’s now the longest period of continuous “employment” I have had in a single role, sector or organisation. Not a bad gig for something that started out almost by accident – it certainly wasn’t part of a well-planned, linear and structured career path!

If I look back on my career, there is probably one constant factor – that at heart, I am an editor, and by and large, I have always worked in “content”, whether in traditional publishing, on-line data, or new media. My specific roles and the organisations I have worked for have been varied, but the output or format has been consistent.

After graduating in law in the early 1980s, I spent a stressful and frustrating few years as a paralegal in local government, helping people with housing difficulties or facing homelessness. Within 5 years, I was burned out, and needed a change.

So I retrained, and completed an evening class in journalism and sub-editing, run by a couple of senior editors from Fleet Street. However, my aspirations of working for glossy titles or cultural magazines came to nothing, as by this time I was probably too old to be hired as a trainee journalist or on a graduate program. Luckily, I spotted an ad for “legal editors”, and putting my formal qualification together with my recent night school learning meant I was exactly in the right place at the right time.

That initial foray into publishing took me from London, to Hong Kong, and then to Australia, and along the way I transitioned into financial services, market data, international roles, business development, product management and digital assets. And I still use my legal knowledge every day, and “content in context” (hence the name of this blog) is relevant to everything I do.

Fast forward to 2026, and here I am running a media company serving the crypto industry. (More on that next week).

Looking back, there was no master plan, or grand strategy. My curiosity just kept pulling me from one industry or one role to the next.

1. Law taught me how to think.
2. Publishing taught me how to communicate.
3. Capital markets taught me financial infrastructure.

And when I walked into a Bitcoin pitch night in Melbourne more than 10 years ago, I felt at home (which is perhaps a little weird when you think about the somewhat impersonal, anonymous and 100% on-line world of crypto).

I appreciate that my career path looks messy from the outside, and it’s not for everyone, but it all fits in the bigger picture.

I didn’t become a lawyer, but I use legal thinking every day.

I left traditional finance 15 years ago, but that background is largely the reason I ended up working in crypto and digital assets.

If you’ve had a non-linear career, you will probably recognise the following:

Every skill you have picked up, every industry you wandered into, and every unplanned detour has been accumulating in the background.

You don’t necessarily connect the dots looking forward, you only ever connect them looking back.

But in the end, it all fits in the bigger picture.

Next week: My 10 Years in Crypto

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My thanks to Simian Giria for helping to initiate this topic.

Severance….

My recent blog on Unstructured Hours has generated a fair amount of interest, especially on LinkedIn (where, contrary to popular belief, people still go to talk about career development and work/life balance). One former colleague I spoke to expressed some relief at having been made redundant, because they wouldn’t have to join any more early morning or late night conference calls (at least, not until the next corporate gig….).

Is it possible to separate “work” from “life”? (image sourced from IMDB)

The continued debate about “getting back to the office” suggests that employers are having to bribe and coerce staff to turn up in person. It reminds me of the 1980s, working in London, when some firms were offering free breakfast to ensure employees came in early. It was also a time when Friday drinks took on a social and cultural significance all of their own (until the lawsuits started rolling in).

When thinking about the desire to establish boundaries between our work hours and our non-work hours, I can’t help think about the TV series, “Severance”. Leaving aside the science fiction narrative, the basic premise is that it is possible to hermetically seal our working hours from the rest of our lives.

The irony is that when in the office, the staff of “Severance” are often (and inevitably) thinking about their “outies” (their external, outside selves from whose memory they are “detached” for 8 hours a day). And when outside, they may reflect upon their office “self” (and ponder on what type of work they actually do – I think we’d all like to know that!).

While some logistical considerations have been factored in (like, knowing whom to phone when taking sick leave), this hard delineation means that it must be very difficult to schedule your external social life, or attend to other personal tasks such as on-line banking, home shopping, booking holidays or the myriad of other needs we navigate during our working hours. (Again, I’m reminded of the 1980s, when we were allowed 15 minutes a week to go to the bank!)

On the hand, the ability to disconnect completely when you walk out of the office and leave your work behind you feels very appealing!

Next week: The Five Ws of Journalism

 

 

Unstructured Hours

Since I left my last corporate role more than 10 years ago, I have not had a full-time, permanent job; instead, I have worked as a freelance, independent consultant and contractor, for a variety of organisations, and in multiple roles. I’ve not had a “regular” 9 to 5, Monday to Friday job, so it’s meant some adjustments and compromises: I don’t get a regular salary, or sick leave, or holiday pay, or employer pension contributions; but I have flexibility as to where/when/how I work, who I work for, and what projects I take on.

Talking to a business associate recently, who is in a similar position, he defined his current status as “unstructured hours”. I think this applies to my own situation, and it made me think that more and more people are in the same boat, but for different reasons.

First, the gig economy has flourished in the last 10 to 15 years (a trend that began well before ride share and food delivery services came along), with the growth of tech-based freelance work in the software industry and creative services, thanks to on-line market places and accessible productivity tools. So, people are less likely to have fixed hours.

Second, the pandemic and associated lock downs revealed a significant divide between those who are able to work from home (WFH), and those who can’t. For those employees who continue to WFH, the separation of work and non-working hours has become increasingly blurred, with the proliferation of remote working and accompanying tech that means we are “always on”. Add to this the global nature of remote working (and “work from anywhere” policies) it means that even different time zones are no longer a barrier to cross-border employment and collaboration.

On the other hand, WFH has meant that some employees have become more efficient and/or productive, especially when commuting time is reduced. More companies are experimenting with remote working, hybrid working (a mix of WFH and on-site), and even a shorter working week. Parkinson’s law states that a given task expands to fill the time available – something that can become pervasive with enforced on-site office hours, so if employees are effectively choosing the hours they work, they may be incentivised to work smarter, and free up their time for other pursuits.

Third, for employees who still need to attend their place of work to perform their duties in person (health care, hospitality, retail, logistics, manufacturing etc.) many of them work shifts, which in itself requires some significant restructuring of daily and weekly routines, albeit not totally “unstructured” hours. And given our voracious appetite for on-line shopping, all-day deliveries, and access to 24/7 services, shift workers are having to respond to employer demands for a flexible and on-demand workforce.

Fourth, the “always on” phenomena means that it’s easy to erode the boundaries between work and personal life, with the consequence that we are now seeing the introduction of “Right to Disconnect” legislation. This will require careful navigation. What about employees who are required to be on call, even if they are not on site? How will this legislation be reflected in client contracts and service level agreements, especially when there may be penalty clauses and similar provisions? Who determines what is “reasonable”?

When I was in corporate roles, there were always requirements for weekend and over night travel, early morning and late night conference calls, lengthy overseas business trips, and deadlines outside the 9 to 5 routine. Even early on in my career, working in the public sector, I was required to attend evening council meetings and public events. So perhaps I’ve always experienced an element of unstructured hours?

Achieving and maintaining a work-life balance means setting time-based boundaries, managing expectations with clients, and above all, prioritising tasks and projects. It also means establishing routines, so that when we are “off”, we don’t feel any guilt.

Finally, the notion of working within “unstructured hours” may become second nature as more and more people embark on portfolio careers. The ability to juggle multiple roles, as well as remaining flexible to changing demands on our time, will be a prerequisite for anyone working outside the “traditional” 38 hours a week schedule.

Next week: Triennial? Could try harder!