As I slog through the job search like an Ice Age animal sinking slowly into the La Brea Tar Pits (shoutout to the George C. Page Museum—love that place), there’s one thing that’s been really getting under my skin:

The “filter” questions.

You know the ones.

“Do you have 7+ years of experience with [Insert oddly specific platform here]?”

“How many years of experience do you have in the Custom Colored Hot Dog Bun Industry™?”

Sure.

You’re trying to weed out candidates so your Talent Acquisition Team doesn’t have to read every resume.

Sounds reasonable in theory.

But here’s the thing:

It’s the questions you’re asking that make the whole system dumb.
Let’s walk through it:

Let’s assume you really do need someone with five years of experience in colored hot dog buns.

Okay.

So you put that question in the filter. What do you think happens?

1. People who don’t have that experience click YES anyway and hope you look at the rest of their resume.
2. People who actually read the question think, “This is idiotic,” and move on.
3. And spoiler: You’re probably going to have to look at the resume anyway.
So now, instead of getting the best candidates, you’re filtering for the ones who either click YES reflexively or don’t care about your system enough to take it seriously.

And here’s the tough love part:

You’re probably attracting the wrong type of people.
Why?

Because the most talented people I’ve met are platform-agnostic.
They understand core concepts.

They move between systems, platforms, and industries with ease.
They adapt.

They learn.

They build things that work.

Meanwhile, the platform-locked folks—the ones with exactly 6.5 years of experience with the software you think you need?

They freeze the moment something doesn’t fit the dropdown menu.

I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating:

Very specific experience ≠ Talent.

It’s often just narrow conditioning.

I know that’s uncomfortable to hear.
Especially if you’ve made a whole career off of being the “Excel guy” or the “Adobe Stack Queen.”

But let’s be honest:

“That guy may be a genius with X, but I bet he can’t do Y like I can…”
…is the kind of thing people say when they’re not actually good at either one.

So here’s my advice, from one tar pit crawler to another:

Ditch the overly specific questions.
Ask broader ones that let talented people tell you what they’re capable of.
Or better yet, don’t ask anything. Just read the resume. You’ll survive.

And if you really think someone can’t handle your bun-coloring operation because they haven’t used your exact platform? You probably don’t understand the platform—or the person—you’re looking for.

But what do I know? I’m not one of you question-asking Masters of the Universe.

Thankfully.

Something I’ve always noticed—and always hated—is how much deference people show to those who are “important.”

You see it everywhere:

A celebrity at a restaurant.
A spiritual guru surrounded by their followers.
A well-known CEO giving a talk to a room of future LinkedIn users.
Rockstars after the show.

And yes, even in your office hallway, when the president of the company decides to take a stroll through the common folk.

I understand.
People like heroes.
We like someone to look up to.
And sure, some people have done amazing things.
But in the workplace, deference is corrosive.

The moment the CEO walks into the room, everyone straightens up.
The air changes.
The sycophants activate.
And worst of all, you see people switch voices—
Yes, the same sweet tone they used to greet the boss is the one they abandoned just ten minutes ago to bark at someone “below” them.

This is not just awkward, it’s a problem.

Because when we treat people in power like royalty, we stop telling them the truth.
We promote actors instead of contributors.
We reward performative loyalty over meaningful progress.
The goal stops being achieving the goal—
It becomes impressing the boss.

That’s not leadership.
That’s theater.
And the whole cast?
Sycophants.

Here’s the worst part:
Deference doesn’t even work.
It’s bad for the people at the top because they start to believe their hype.
And it’s bad for the people at the bottom because they start to believe they belong there.

Neither is true.
Neither is healthy.
Neither helps us do better work.

Hierarchy is an ancient design pattern we keep copy-pasting into modern life. It’s a leftover from a time when we thought kings had magic blood.
And apparently, we still do.

So here’s my pitch:

Flatten your view.
Flatten your life.

If you’re “in charge,” stop floating above the room.
If you’re “at the bottom,” stop acting like you’re less than anyone else.

Everyone contributes.
Everyone matters.
No one deserves worship.

Not because they’re rich,
Not because they’re loud,
Not because they have a fancy title.

Don't have heroes.
Don't believe in kings or CEOs.
Believe in people.

Stop playing “Who’s Above Who.”
And start acting like we’re all in the same room.

We’re all made of the same star dust. Let’s start acting like it.

You can’t automate what you can’t do manually.

Let me say that again for the folks in the back (and the digital transformation department):

You can’t automate what you can’t do manually.

I’ve been working in automation for decades.
I started in the late ’90s, integrating controls on CNC machines. Since then, I’ve been automating everything I can get my hands on—processes, machines, systems, workflows, you name it.

And, now I know this:

Automation isn’t scary.
It’s not mysterious.
It’s just turning something you already know how to do into something a machine can do for you.

From coffee makers to robot assembly lines to software to AI—it’s all automation.

And it’s incredible.
And I love it.

But there’s a catch.

Most automation projects fail, not because of the tools.
They fail because the people trying to automate something have no idea how the thing actually works.

You can’t skip that step.

You have to do the thing before you can teach a machine to do it for you.
You have to get your hands dirty.
You have to roll up your sleeves and walk through the process from end to end.
If you’ve never done it manually, you won’t be able to automate it.
You’ll automate guesswork.

And then what?

Your automation will be garbage.

So, if you’re thinking about automating something, here’s my advice:

Put down the buzzwords.
Close the slide deck.
Back away slowly from the phrase “AI-powered.”

Now do the thing. The thing you want to automate.
Do the thing from start to finish.
Don’t take shortcuts.
No “strategic oversight.”
Just do some real-world, sleeves-up, figure-it-out work.

Then?

Then you’re ready to automate.
Until then, may the force be with you, buddy.

You can’t always get what you want.

Have you looked at job postings lately? I have—I'm looking for my next opportunity. People are making some very long lists.

And here’s why:

They don't actually know what they need—that and they want to save money by buying a multitool, but that’s for another post.

Let’s focus on not knowing what you want.

We’re going to do this in story format!

Imagine you’re tasked with baking a cake.
You don’t know what kind of cake.
You don’t know what the occasion is.
You don’t know how to bake a cake at all.
But you know cakes involve flour, and sugar, and eggs, and baking soda... right?
So you make a giant list.
A wish list.
A grocery list for a cake you can’t describe, for an unknown celebration.
And just to make it worse, the ruler of your kingdom demands the cake immediately.

They don’t know what it's for either. But they heard everyone has cakes for stuff nowadays, and they just want it to be your problem, not theirs.

You raid every store in the land.
You gather every ingredient you can find.
You spend a fortune.
You waste a year.
And guess what?

You still end up with a terrible cake.

This is hiring in 2025.

This is why job descriptions are bloated, impossible, and internally contradictory.

And honestly?
I kind of sympathize.
(But not that much.)

Here’s a radical idea:

Before you start the hiring process, figure out what you actually need.
Not what you think you need.
Not what your "industry best practices" article says you need.
Not what buzzwords you saw in a trending webinar.
What. You. Actually. Need. Done.

Then—and this is important—Look for someone who has the capacity to do that.

Because here’s a piece of hard-earned wisdom:

You probably don't know what you want.
You just think you do.
And if you hire based on a laundry list of acronyms, certifications, and trendy keywords. You’re hiring paper, not people.

Look deeper.
• Does the person think in the right ways?
• Do they solve the right kinds of problems?
• Are they excited about learning, building, and improving?
• Would you actually want to work with them?

If so...

Congratulations!
You found your person.
And, you didn’t need that ridiculous 87-point wish list after all.

Because nobody is “good at” a specific software title.
Nobody is born knowing a proprietary platform.

What matters is how someone thinks, how they solve problems, and how they grow.

Skills are interrelated.
Knowledge transfers.
Brains and heart matter more than buzzwords.

So, stop chasing your fantasy cake.
You can’t always get what you want.
But if you try real hard, you just might find…

You get what you need.

Be Yourself.

Please.

For the love of whatever higher power you believe in—or don’t—just be yourself. Stop trying to be an edited version of yourself.
Or whatever weird incarnation our society expects you to be.

Recently, I was listening to a podcast about young leadership. And I was all in.

• Four-day workweeks? Yes.
• Pushing back against hustle culture? YES. (Hustle culture is seriously stupid.)
• Talking about real work/life balance and authentic leadership? YES.

And then... they ruined it.

They started talking about the “challenge” of bringing your whole self to work.
About how hard it is to know “how much of yourself” to show—especially when you're "in charge."

Kid, you had me for about 90% of the way.

Then you went and made me sad.

Because here's the answer to this huge, complex, MBA-worthy problem:

Be yourself.
All the time.
No matter what.
No matter who you're with.
No matter what role you're in.

Why would you need to edit yourself? Are you unhappy with who you are?

(For reference: I am extremely happy with who I am and love myself dearly. I'd be loath to cut pieces out just to "fit in" somewhere.)
Maybe it’s because I grew up on things like Free to Be… You and Me—shoutout to Marlo Thomas.

But seriously—what are you afraid of by being yourself?

You can't actually be anything else.
You can only fake it.
You can only waste energy pretending.

And suddenly, it hit me:
This is why office culture feels like a bad community theater production.
Everyone’s playing dress-up. Everyone’s wearing hats.
(And I hate the phrase “we wear a lot of hats.” You know who wears a lot of hats? The late Queen of England. And ACTORS.)

Here’s the thing:

If we’re actually trying to do something, why are we all acting?
Be yourself.
And don’t be an a-hole.
Be yourself.
And respect other people.
Be yourself.
And let others be themselves too.

If you say you're a leader, don't just encourage people to "bring their best selves." Encourage them to bring their real selves.

That's leadership. Showing what's possible—and letting people run with it.

As a society, we've drifted way too far from ourselves.

We mimic.
We posture.
We costume up like it's Halloween at the DMV.

And it’s exhausting.

I did high school theater. I can tell you—it takes an enormous amount of energy to pretend to be someone you’re not. That’s energy you could be using to solve real problems.
Or make real progress.
Or invent something that actually matters.

So be yourself.

Be the kid awkwardly trying to pull off a fedora—but OWN IT.
Be the beauty queen answering a question about world peace—honestly.
Be the rookie who admits when they don't know something—because none of us really do.

Put away the hats.
Let your hair down.
Be 100% you.

I guarantee it’ll make everyone’s world a little better.

And it’ll make yours a lot better too.

Bro, you’re not going to stop AI.

I’m seeing a lot of posts here about stopping AI.
How we need to email our unions, call our congresspeople, rally the villagers against the giant that’s about to eat the kingdom.

I understand. I really do.

AI is scary.
It’s getting better—so much better that it’s going to displace a lot of people.
It’s going to replace a lot of things.
It’s incredibly resource heavy.
It might even make us dumber.

But Bro—and I say "Bro" in the most nonbinary way possible—
You’re not going to stop it.

Your union rep and your congressperson are probably using AI to write the email response you're waiting for.

The genie’s out of the bottle.
And the bottle is broken into a thousand tiny shards no one’s putting back together.

So what do you do?

You’ve got two options:

1. Get out of the way.
(It’s hard. But there’s still a pastoral life out there—if you like bitter cold, remote hillsides, and sheep. Shoutout to the shepherds of the Steppe.)

2. Try to make it work for you.
Get in the game. Shape it. Steer it.
Or at least ride it better than the next guy clinging to a business model from 2014.

Look—new technology has always been scary. It always displaces what we’re used to.

But if the internet was a stick of dynamite? AI is an atomic bomb.
All the more reason to figure out how to survive the explosion.
Maybe even thrive in the aftermath.

I’m not here to tell you what to do. I don’t know.

But I do know this:

Nobody’s coming to save you from AI.
Not your manager.
Not your union.
Not your congressperson.
Not even Sarah Connor.

You know what I hate on LinkedIn?

The Lists.

• "17 Brutal Truths Every Leader Must Know"
• "8 Ways to Supercharge Your ROI Before Breakfast"
• "4 Things You Can Do Right Now to Make Yourself More Interesting (Hint: Post More Lists)"

#1 is always: Make vapid lists.

Most of these lists look like they were generated by AI. And look, I’m all for using AI. But seriously—if you're going to make a list, at least make up your own. Or better yet: don’t make a list at all.

Most of the time, the posters are “career strategists” or “thought leadership consultants” or whatever the 2025 version of an infomercial guru is.

When I was a kid, these people were on TV at 3AM, selling audio tapes, a VHS bundle, and a three-ring binder guaranteed to unlock your limitless potential™.

Different platform, same hustle.

Okay, okay, you caught me. Lists are effective.
They’re snackable.
They hit the Lowest Common Denominator (LCD) sweet spot.
They get likes.
So fine.
I’ll play the game.
Here’s my list:

The One Thing You Can Do to Be Less Annoying and a Better Person:
→ Be more human.

I’ll just be over here waiting for my million likes.
(Or, you know, quietly judging the next list I scroll past.)

For years, I’ve approached LinkedIn like a well-trained dog—Pavlovian style:
Cautious. Tail tucked. Bell rings—act “professional.”

Conditioned.

I’ve been on here a while, and I’ve brought with me everything I was taught about how to act in a “professional setting.” Think before liking something. Watch what you say. Keep things neutral. Keep it “safe.”

I think I was wrong.

Recently, a couple of posts challenged that mindset. They said LinkedIn is changing—that we can show up as full people here. That was the first break in the chain. Then I found myself hesitating—thinking twice before engaging with posts I agreed with—because they were “too political,” “too controversial,” or “might not look good.”

What would my employer think?
What would a potential employer think?

Well, you know what?
That kind of wishy-washy horse manure is exactly why we’re in the mess we’re in.

So this is me breaking my own rules.

I’ve had three personal no-go zones on LinkedIn for years:

1. No politics
2. No controversial opinions
3. No showing weakness or failure

I’m breaking all three today.

Politics:

The current executive administration in the U.S. has crossed a line into authoritarianism that should alarm every red-blooded American—regardless of political affiliation. If you care about democracy, liberty, or basic decency, now’s the time to push back. Not tomorrow. Yesterday.

Controversial Opinion:

The modern professional world has jumped the shark. We’ve created a culture where greed and mediocrity run the show. We worship billionaires. We shame the poor. We pollute the earth and our minds and pretend there’s no alternative—because we’re terrified of not surviving outside the machine. Our professional culture is what created the primordial ooze that enabled the current executive administration (see Politics.)

My Weaknesses:

I don’t have it all together—never have, and probably never will.
I don’t always know what I’m doing or why I’m doing it.
I forget things. I get scared. I make mistakes.
Sometimes I don’t feel good at anything.
Sometimes I don’t speak out about thinks I know are wrong—working on that here.

But I’m human.
Just like you.
And I’m tired of acting like we’re supposed to hide that. How is that “productive?”

Now that I’ve said all that?
I feel better.

I hope more of us start pushing back when things are wrong.
I hope we start ditching the greed.
I hope we start being real about who we are—because that’s where real change lives.

You don’t have to agree with me.
But if you’ve been afraid to speak up, consider this your invitation.

Let’s be human.
Let’s be honest.
Let’s be brave.

(And if that makes me less “marketable,” so be it. I’m happy to die on THIS hill.)

Introducing the latest career board game nobody asked for:

You Can’t Do That™
The game of limiting others based on your own narrow view of the world!

This one’s personal.

I’ve done engineering, trades, arts, marketing, manual labor, and served frozen yogurt in the early ’90s—shout out to Humphrey Yogart and the Chill Out Café.

I’ve programmed machines, calibrated optical columns, created VR experiences, launched campaigns, framed houses, and I even made an animated web series.

I’m proud of what I’ve done. But a lot of people don’t understand what it means to have a diverse skill set. So I hear things like:

“How would you even describe your career path?” (Valley girl accent)

“How are you an engineer if you didn’t go to school for engineering?” (Usually said sarcastically by engineering managers)

“Your degree is in marketing—where is all this technical experience coming from?” (Heard often from recruiters and in interviews)

“Marketing people and engineering people are two totally different types of people.” (Almost always from amateur psychologists—so many of those)

Says who?

Because I don’t see any of it that way.
I don’t think people are tired stereotypes.

In my experience, there’s crossover in everything—skills, concepts, methodologies, beliefs. No matter where you apply them, they share common ground. I’ve deepened my understanding of fine art by doing engineering projects—and vice versa.

Polymaths—like me—know this.
We just have trouble making other people understand.
And—unpopular opinion incoming—I think assuming things about people based on their education, title, or résumé is a form of bigotry.
(Go ahead and look up the definition of bigotry before screaming at me.)

If we want to solve the increasing challenges of the modern world, we need to snap out of our professional dogma and realize:

We’re not a LinkedIn headline.
We’re not a degree.
We’re not a title.
We’re messy, curious, inconsistent, ever-evolving beings.

We can build bridges and write poems.
Fix plumbing and run companies.
Learn things just because we want to.

We put people in boxes and then ask them to think outside of them. That seems insane to me.

So stop asking, “What do you do?”
Start asking, “What can you do?”

Or better yet:

“What do you want to do?”

Because I’m not playing the “You Can’t Do That” game anymore.
And I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one.

The Lucky Success Q-Ball™

Just shake and get the career advice you think you need.
Now infused with the ancient magic of survivorship bias, this mystical orb draws upon generations of successful people who definitely got where they are by waking up at 4AM and grinding harder than everyone else.
(And not because of timing, privilege, or luck. Never that.)

Most of the “career advice” we get comes from people who made it.
And we assume that if we just do what they did, we’ll get the same results.

I don’t think that’s how any of this works.

It’s called survivorship bias—we only hear from the ones who survived.
The millions who didn’t? Silenced by failure—we don’t like stories of failure.
Or still trying to sell their own Q-Balls.

But the advice lives on:

• "Just be exceptional!"
• "Follow your passion!"
• "Work harder!" (That one made the cut for the viewing window.)

In reality, most success comes from a chaotic cocktail of timing, privilege, connections, personal traits, and a good dose of cosmic randomness.

I know none of you “successful” people want to hear that—and I empathize—but this is tough love, so cry into your caviar. It’ll make it taste even better.

My unsolicited advice?

Don’t try to copy the exact steps of someone else’s career.
You’re not them.
They’re not you.
And their lucky rabbit’s foot probably won’t work for you either.

Study “failure”.

Define what “success” means to you. It doesn’t have to be what everyone else thinks it is.

Trust your gut—wish I’d done this more.

Take what helps.
Leave the rest.

And for the love of all that’s holy, don’t build your life off someone else’s marketing copy.

Unless it’s mine.
Obviously.

I keep seeing posts about what AI can’t do.
Or: “I like AI... just not when it does what I do.”

That’s fear talking. I understand.
It’s moving fast. It’s scary. It’s weird.
But the problem isn’t the tech.
It’s us.

We’re not scared of AI.
We’re scared of what we’re going to do with it.

Because deep down, we know how our systems work:
Profit over people. Growth at all costs.
Greed is fine if it’s wearing business casual and says “disruption.” Or when it's a pop star in space--just saying.

And now everyone’s worried about AI using too many resources.
Buddy, if you’re reading this on LinkedIn, you’re already part of the consumption overpopulation club.
And your company probably isn’t making artisanal biodegradable micro miracles either.

The truth?
AI probably will do the thing you think it can’t.
So let’s stop pretending it won’t, and start figuring out how to make it help everyone--or at least as many people as possible.

We’ve made some amazing stuff as a species.
Let’s not ruin it by being scared of the wrong things.

Don’t fear AI.
Fear greed, fear hate, fear mediocrity.

Fix that, and your miracles will stay miracles and not turn into catastrophes.

Now available--team morale sold separately:

The Big Business Manager Playset™

For aspiring leaders who are mostly aspiring to be in charge of stuff.
Includes everything you need to seem like you know how to manage people:

• Micromanagement Magnifying Glass – Because every great leader double-checks that every sentence is in Calibri.
• Inflatable KPI Dashboard – Performance metrics engineered for maximum fluff, minimal substance.
• Buzzword Blocks – Build a barrier between you and your team one “alignment” at a time.
• Responsibility Deflector Hat – Stylishly redirect blame while managing up.
• Meeting Generator – Schedule daily check-ins so no one has time to do the actual work.
• Bullhorn – Because everyone knows saying it louder makes it more meaningful.
• Self-Evaluation Mirror – It doesn’t reflect, so you never have to evaluate yourself!

Here’s the truth: most people don’t know how to lead.

But a lot of them think they do—especially the ones who really want to be “in charge.”

And look, if your biggest goal is authority rather than responsibility…
that’s probably a sign you’re not the person who should be leading anything.

Real leadership is about listening.
Supporting.
Owning your mistakes.
Creating space for other people to thrive.
But in too many places, we reward the loudest voice in the room.
The one who interrupts the most.
The one who knows all the jargon and none of the context.
The one who thinks “aim higher” is actual feedback.
So we end up with bosses.
But not leaders.

Maybe it’s time we stop promoting the performance of leadership and start recognizing the practice of it.

Please do not eat the buzzword blocks.

Introducing the latest addition to your job search toolkit:

The Interview Magic Kit™
Now with Real Smoke & Mirrors!
Perfect for dazzling hiring managers and distracting from the terrifying fact that you’re a real person.

These days, prepping for an interview feels less like getting ready to talk about your experience… and more like gearing up for a residency on the Vegas strip.
“Top” career coaches will tell you: rehearse your answers, choreograph your body language, master your script, and never break character, enunciate—no wait, that last one’s my high school drama teacher.
Basically: don’t be yourself. Be Schmendrick the Amazing.
No pressure—just deliver a flawless performance that balances warmth, wit, emotional intelligence, perfect recall of your last five years, a 90-day roadmap, and an acceptable amount of eye contact (but not too much, or it gets weird—but seriously, too much eye contact IS weird).
And for the love of ROI, don’t sweat.
But here’s the thing: if you get the job, you are the one who has to show up every day.

Not your rehearsed persona. Not your job-search stage magician.

You.

With your curiosity, your quirks, your ideas, your awkward laugh, your critical thinking, your perfectly imperfect self.
So maybe—just maybe—we stop encouraging people to perform and start encouraging them to show up as themselves.
And maybe hiring teams stop asking for magic tricks and start hiring actual humans.

Anybody who wants to interview me should know I’m still working on sawing myself in half.

New from the makers of "Fit the Job!":
The Professional Decoder Ring
Now you too can unlock the ancient secrets of corporate speak.

Suitable for all employed people
Keep what you're saying secret
Confuse your friends

I've been thinking a lot about the way we communicate in professional settings. Or... fail to.

Somewhere along the way, we stopped saying things plainly and started saying things like “leverage scalable ideation frameworks for synergistic alignment.” Which is, I think, corporate for “have an idea and make it work with other stuff.”

A lot of workplace language feels like it was cooked up by a parrot with a consulting job.

And the thing is: parrots are smart.
But when they talk, they’re just mimicking sounds.
They show real intelligence when they don’t talk, like when they pick the right color, unlock their cage, or figure out how to steal a Cheez-It off the desk.

We’ve created a culture where buzzwords, acronyms, and abbreviations don’t just clutter our communication—they gatekeep it.
They make people feel dumb for not knowing what someone won’t bother to explain.
(Worse, sometimes the person saying it doesn’t know either. But acronyms are great for disguising that.)

Honestly, humanity’s greatest strength has always been communication.
That’s how we’ve made it this far.
So why are we backsliding into a jargon jungle just when clear understanding is more critical than ever?

I love communicating with people in whatever form actually gets the point across. Gestures, analogies, bad drawings on napkins—whatever it takes.

Because I don’t believe people are unintelligent.
I think they’re just stuck behind bad translations.

We don’t need more buzzwords.
We need more clarity.
More inclusion.
And maybe fewer parrots.

Or at least better-trained ones.

Is AI art cheating? (The GIF image in this post is AI, so I probably cheated.)

That’s what people are asking. Some are shouting it.
And honestly, I get it. There’s a lot to be worried about.

Artists once said photography wasn’t art. Now it’s a full-blown medium with galleries and Pulitzer prizes. Tools change. What doesn’t always change is how people feel when they first show up.

I’ve been embracing AI—early, probably awkwardly—because I can see the elephant stampede coming. And I’d rather walk alongside it than get trampled.
That doesn’t mean I think it’s all great.

AI raises huge, uncomfortable questions:

Intellectual property theft
Environmental impact
Job loss on a massive scale
Cultural and creative dilution
And of course, the looming "sentient machine makes us into batteries" problem

But I’m still willing to try. Why?

Because I’m an optimist. Maybe a cautious one, but still—someone who thinks we might not be entirely doomed.

Maybe AI helps people express themselves more clearly.
Maybe it helps people share what’s in their head with the world.
Maybe it leads to more empathy.
Maybe it pushes human-made art to be more intentional, more valuable.
Maybe we get something that doesn’t feel like a Twilight Zone ending.
Maybe—just maybe—we get an H.G. Wells one instead.

All’s well that ends Wells.

I don’t know how this all plays out. But I’m choosing to engage, not run.
Maybe I’m wrong--good chance.

Maybe I’m right--statistically not as good a chance.

(And if you’re listening, AI overlords… please note that I’ve been generally supportive. Don't make me into batteries, thanks.)

New from Play-Clay: Fit the Job!

Includes everything you need to flatten your soul into a mold you didn’t design. Just load your personality into the lever-activated “JOB DESCRIPTION” press, smash it flat, and try not to mix the colors.

Lately, I’ve been spending a lot of time reading job postings—because I’m looking for one. And after a few hundred of them, a theme emerges:
A lot of job descriptions read like they were generated by a malfunctioning buzzword generator hooked up to a blender full of LinkedIn posts and corporate PowerPoints.

You know the ones:

Must be a “ninja” with 7 years of experience using a framework invented last Thursday

Must thrive in fast-paced environments (translation: everything is broken)

Must be detail-oriented, but also a visionary, but also able to take direction, but also lead, but also work independently, but also collaborate constantly, but also, but also, but also...

We ask people to cram themselves into shapes that don’t make sense.
Then we act surprised when the fit feels off.

Maybe it’s time we try something different.

We could write job descriptions for actual humans. Ask for less of the hyper-specific, memorized trivia, and more of the real stuff:

Curiosity
Adaptability
Collaboration
A solid grasp of fundamentals

Because let’s be honest: most things that are ultra-specific today can be Googled in ten seconds or solved with help from a machine that’s terrifyingly good at autocomplete.

Maybe we start hiring humans. Maybe we start describing actual jobs.
And maybe—just maybe—let’s stop trying to smash people into molds.

Until then, I’ll be over here trying to sculpt myself into a “rockstar hybrid innovator change agent (entry level, PhD required).”

Now available for a limited time: Gabe, the Action Figure!

Accessories include: laptop, robot, cat, camera, and tools for marketing and engineering. Existential dread sold separately.

I think how we craft resumes is all wrong--at least for people like me.
"Blah blah blah, I did this... numbers, buzzwords, KPIs, synergy, blah."
I’ve seen brilliant people with terrible resumes and walking LinkedIn profiles with zero spark in real life.

Maybe it’s time we build more human resumes.

So here’s mine, action-figure style.

I’m Gabe. I love cats and robots. I have way too many interests and not enough lifetimes. Sometimes I code, sometimes I draw. Sometimes I build things that blink. Sometimes I just want to sit on the floor with the cats and think about space. But whatever I’m doing, I take that seriously. Just not myself.

Why you’d want me on your team (or in your orbit):

Creative: I make stuff. All kinds of stuff.

Collaborative: I like people. Even the weird ones. Especially the weird ones.

Technical: Code, automation, hardware—I’m not scared.

Resourceful: I hope MacGyver would be proud.

Well-Rounded: I collect knowledge like some people collect Funko Pops--I also have a small collection of Funko Pops.

Curious: I break things--sometimes on purpose. Then fix them (usually).

Experienced: I’ve failed spectacularly enough to know how to succeed.

Enthusiastic: I bring energy. Coffee helps.

Innovative: New tools excite me.

Flexible: I’ve rebranded myself mid-sentence before.

Self-Aware: I know my weak spots. I’ll either improve them or bring someone smarter.

I worked with an AI to make an action figure of myself. Because why not?

Let’s rethink how we present ourselves and choose the people we work with.

So… who's next?