Who Funds the Learner?

The Vanishing Entry Level

Empress of Balance – Colored Pencil – Richard Lee (2012)

New Stanford/ADP dashboard data shows entry-level roles contracting 3.8% per year in AI-exposed occupations, while older cohorts (35-50) hold steady. 

Once upon a time, junior designers earned their stripes on the slow and steady path. Depending on their date of entry, that might have been designing websites that didn’t convert, or building flows that confused users. Then they were shown how performance metrics suffered, or they sat behind the glass during usability testing while a senior designer traced the confusion back to decisions the fledgling designer made three sprints earlier.

Junior developers earned it in similar fashion. Maybe it was an accidental reveal of not-ready-for-release site content, or perhaps a 2 a.m. troubleshooting session that traced a production breakdown back to their front-end framework implementation choices. Different rooms, but the same mechanism. The lessons we learned before AI was on the scene? They cost us something, yes.   But it’s that sting that made them stick, and with enough mistakes under our belt and the learning that lies therein, we develop judgment. 

Of course, precisely how that pipeline was configured was never sacred. Just familiar and commonplace. You might even go so far as to call it common sense. 

Calculators erased the requirement to do math in one’s head. Digital layout tools led to no more hand lettering.  CAD erased the bottleneck of hand drafting.

Each time these changes landed on our doorstep, a chorus of practitioners insisted the new abstraction layer would produce generations that couldn’t really do the work, and could only operate the machines that were doing the work. But each time, judgment reconstituted itself one layer up. The “entry-level pipeline” was never a fixed pathway, it’s always been whatever the current domain, team and process kept at the bottom rung.

Why is this time different? I believe that AI advancements and adoption are so visible and widespread, this time we can watch the abstraction layer shifting around. We’ll either see the pipeline reform or see it fade away completely.  We’ll see it clearly in the data, which no one’s arguing we have more of than say, when calculators first rolled out. 

The Fork In the Data

In August 2025, a Stanford Digital Economy Lab team led by Erik Brynjolfsson published a finding that has since grown into a live-time dashboard built with ADP Research, covering roughly 4.6 million workers across more than 730 occupations.

The data’s headline is that employment for AI-exposed workers ages 22 to 25 is contracting at roughly 3.8% per year as of the most recent data, and that the decline has accelerated since the first year of measurement. Workers 35 to 40 in the same occupations are growing at about 2% annually. The squeeze reaches past new grads, as well. The 31-to-34 cohort is down about 1.7% year over year. 

Across all workers, at any age, in any domain and context, AI-exposed occupations are down just 0.2%. Generally, jobs are holding on.

Within the same firm, entry-level hiring in the most AI-exposed roles fell about 13% relative to less-exposed roles. 

It’s the On-Ramp That’s Collapsing

The Fortune piece covering the dashboard put it plainly: AI “absorbs tasks before it absorbs jobs.” It reaches first for retrieving, summarizing, scheduling, formatting. The tasks junior people have always been handed, because those tasks never required years in the seat. 

It’s worth noting that the Stanford team thankfully ran some controls on the research, taking interest rates, pandemic overhiring corrections, and the pervading sense of global despair mostly off the table as competing explanations for this collapse of the entry level pipeline.

ADP’s chief economist, Nela Richardson, points at the operative variable: whether an organization deploys AI primarily as automation or as augmentation. Occupations where AI is brought in and augments human work show durable employment growth. Occupations where AI is introduced and automates tasks outright? Those are shrinking. 

Same Tech, Very Different Outcome

The difference lives in an organization’s collective mindset and in the decisions that company’s leadership makes across several factors (talent training & retention, AI deployment and the usual build/rent/buy decisions). These decisions typically roll out without the “talent strategy” label, though that’s where it appears things are headed. 

Hold that thought, because it’s the crux of everything that follows. Why? Because supervising AI output requires exactly the judgment we are quietly ceasing to train when AI is deployed primarily to automate entry level work vs augmenting those occupations in a sustainable fashion.

A Strong Counterargument

I want to hand over the mic for an optimistic read on this debate, because I believe it has strengths, and a potentially viable path forward. 

A principal designer I respect at a mid-size HR-tech company pushed back on an earlier piece of mine, one arguing that AI adoption orchestration is becoming a dedicated role. Her stance on the ‘emerging role’ question, in her own words: 

“I’m not entirely convinced this is a dedicated role. If the company creates a culture of knowledge sharing, it’s a great way to surface workflows that may benefit others… I think each person should be empowered to build what works for them specifically, share when appropriate, and adopt builds from others if useful.” 

Her org runs on that model today. A dedicated channel, with people sharing AI workflows and skills proactively. No gatekeepers required. Having spent time in the very culture and org this approach is working in, I wasn’t surprised to hear it appeared to be effective in mitigating some of the worst aspects of AI Onboarding Debt.

But beyond a thoughtful, transparent culture where folks share with intention and strategy,  there’s an even stronger case to be made for saving the entry-level judgment pipeline itself.

Judgment Comes from Decision Cycles, Not Keystrokes

The grunt work (design critiques, code reviews, support ticket triage) was never the point. Rather, it’s been the fee those early in their career had to pay to move up, to take on more responsibility and be given more power.

If AI waives that fee, a junior designer who once would have owned five flows across two years can now learn fifty lessons vs. five. They see dozens of cycles go from project to shipped to results in the same span of time. A junior developer sees the same shift, from five branches full of hard-won wisdom to fifty shipped-and-broken cycles. More repetitions, not fewer.

The traditional pipeline wasn’t the most ideal filter in the first place. It selected for who could (and was willing to) endure years of low-leverage work, and for who had the pedigree to get hired into the pipeline at all. Neither is a great predictor of judgment.

The Fork Itself Is an Optimist’s Best Evidence

The Stanford/ADP finding doesn’t say “AI destroys entry-level work, full stop”. It says entry-level work contracts where AI is deployed as automation, vs how entry-level work holds on just fine where AI gets rolled out as augmentation. That’s proof that a viable, extensible path is live right now, and visible in the same data-driven dashboard. An org that deliberately pairs their junior staff with AI as a force multiplier (versus cutting staff and trusting that shiny new agent) is running the augmentation condition, even if they don’t frame it that way.

Where the Counter Doesn’t Hold Up

The verification bootstrap

Today’s design and development veterans catch bad AI-generated decisions because they made enough bad decisions of their own to spot them before they cascade. The next cohort will inherit that verification mantle, but sans the specific quality of cycles that make recognition possible for those who’ve been around the block a few times. Those fifty watched cycles,  blissfully absent of grunt-work and guaranteed sting-free? They don’t have the same stressors, and don’t dish out the pain that spurs judgment the way that five lived-cycles do, at least not in most domains.

A newbie pilot’s required flight-simulation hours compile into judgment because the feedback is fast and unambiguous. Either the plane crashed or it didn’t.  

Design work rarely offers that, and neither does most engineering above the unit-test level. When a junior designer’s flow gets shipped and the confusion it causes surfaces as a slow bleed in adoption metrics three quarters later, attribution is hard because it’s tangled with someone else’s redesign and a rebrand marketing swore was crucial for their Q4 goals. A junior dev’s architecture calls look fine until it’s load-bearing under features they hadn’t scoped and didn’t have the experience to proactively account for.   

Delayed, diffuse, and hard-to-attribute feedback doesn’t write to long-term judgment the same way a simulated stall warning does for that newbie pilot in training.

What the Data Reveals About Choice

Even if we grant the augmentation model everything it appears to offer, that path still has to be chosen.  The ADP Research dashboard is the record of what’s actually being chosen at scale: role contraction is concentrated in the same place as automation-mode AI deployment, with the net effect growing month over month by roughly half a percentage point. 

It’s not a data artifact, it’s the result of deployment decisions by thousands of firms, made mostly by default. A junior IC navigating cycles with judgment-producing stressors (the  augmentation model)  built in is a cost center without a plainly visible, near-term payoff. 

Nobody is budgeting for the learner, and four years of data have revealed the preference for the vast majority: nobody is about to.

Even If Augmentation Wins, There’s a Cost

Say augmentation wins outright and judgment keeps forming. It’s still worth naming what that victory actually costs, because the maturation process isn’t instant.

The advancement of digital layout tools produced designers whose judgment formed differently, yes. However, it formed no less rigorously than those who did hand lettering and used rubylith.  It also resulted in a period where the in-between cohort absorbed the digital disruption, without a playbook and with a dual learning-and-practice load. They carried both digital and analog knowledge and techniques, without any extra for the trouble. 

The 2023–2030 workplace entrants are in that awkward phase right now, whether you fall on the pessimistic or optimistic side of this topic.  And while I don’t have a confident estimate for how long this phase will run,  5-7 years would be my guess based on prior precedents and the degree to which AI seems to confound precedent entirely.

The Category Error

Here’s where the real question and the designer’s sharpest observation come together. Her sharpest observation wasn’t the culture argument, but a question she raised in passing about the hard part of AI deployment and adoption. 

“The socialization, governance & trust that comes along with it… whose responsibility is it?”

Organic knowledge-sharing culture solves for process and tooling diffusion. In an org doing things right, relevant and effective workflows built by one person quickly reach the rest of the org, even without a dedicated role driving that outcome. That’s a real problem, a real source of pain I’ve had several seniors convey to me, and one that the model her org practices addresses well.

That said, formation of judgment is a different problem wearing similar clothes. A shared channel of AI workflows may tell a junior how to build something, or perhaps even what to build. 

But it doesn’t put them through the cycle of thinking, building and shipping, then watching the consequences land. It doesn’t knock them down, make them wince and then clamber up and step back to the drawing board. 

We need to find new ways of building in the reps the verification bootstrap shows us are nonnegotiable. While conscious diffusion can move artifacts between people who already have judgment, it doesn’t manufacture judgment in people who don’t yet have it. An org can run a flawless sharing culture and still have zero judgment formation happening underneath it. 

In this scenario the collapse just happens quietly, even inside companies with excellent knowledge sharing. A few years on, there won’t be any juniors capable of exercising judgment and independently making calls that require it.

I’m not claiming my designer friend’s model is wrong, and it answers the diffusion question well. But her own “whose responsibility is it?” still sits on the stack one layer down, where the artifacts stop and the judgment has to kick in.

Who funds the learner

If the fork is real, and the data says it is, simply naming your org’s AI deployment strategy as “augmentative” doesn’t mean the judgment-formation pathway will build itself, even inside the best sharing cultures in the industry. Someone has to figure out what a junior must do across those fifty watched cycles so that watching turns into judgment.

The apprenticeship cannot consist solely of watching fifty data points of exposure. There must be real stakes. There have to be consequences a junior human gets to feel, and real accountability for catching what the AI gets wrong. 

Someone has to build the structured apprenticeship interlaced with using AI to speed up and automate what doesn’t contribute to building judgment. That’s a role missing from most headcount plans, and the revealed-preference data says it’s losing the budget argument every quarter the dashboard reports.

So the age-old mechanism survives: entry-level to senior decision maker. Judgment can still form on the far side of this AI transition, the same way it formed on the far side of every transition before it. But it won’t form by default, and the question every org is answering right now, whether by strategy or by default, is the one this piece can’t answer for them: 

Who funds the learner?

The Double Penalty: How Healthcare-Employment Coupling Punishes the People Doing It Right

This piece opens on a personal note, but the latest available statistics on people in the US without insurance make it clear this isn’t one individual’s experience. From the CDC’s 2024 research comes the Health Insurance Coverage: Early Release of Estimates From the National Health Interview Survey, 2024, which calls out some sobering figures:

  • Folks younger than age 65 without healthcare insurance: 26.8 million
  • Percent of folks under age 65 without healthcare insurance: 9.9%
  • Percent of kids under 18 without healthcare insurance:  5.1%

My family and I joined these statistics when I lost my job on February 28, 2026. By the time I’d fully processed what interrupting the rhythm of a life built around a monthly paycheck meant for my family, I’d had to grapple with the.biggest obstacle: losing the job meant losing our healthcare.

That’s not news. Everyone who’s been laid off in America knows this particular gut-punch. What I didn’t fully understand until I lived it is the second part of the penalty: the part less talked about.

The Double Penalty

When you lose employer-sponsored insurance, you have two bad options: pay COBRA premiums that often run $2,000–3,000+ a month for a family plan, or go without coverage and pay out of pocket as a “self-pay” patient.

Here’s the part that should make people angrier than it does: self-pay doesn’t mean you pay your provider’s standard rate. It means you pay the maximum allowed rate. That’s the inflated  rate providers expect insurance companies to negotiate down from, the sticker price nobody with coverage ever actually pays.

So the math is brutal in a specific way. You’re not just uninsured. You’re uninsured and paying more per service than insured patients pay for identical care. No insurance, plus the insurance penalty for not having insurance. A system that punishes you twice for the same condition.

I bumped into this headlong trying to maintain a years-long prescription. What should have been a  routine medication continuity conversation turned into a crash course in how broken the incentive structure actually is.

What This Actually Does to People

The standard defense of this system, the one I hear most often, is that the free market should determine healthcare costs and access. Let supply and demand work. Government intervention distorts the market and produces worse outcomes than market forces would on their own.

I take this argument seriously, partly because someone I respect deeply holds it. An uncle of mine is a lifelong Republican, self-described conservative, and one of the only people I’ve managed to have real political conversations with over the last several years without it collapsing into noise and resentment. When I described what I was navigating, his response was consistent with his worldview: “the market should decide.”

I understand the appeal. Markets are good at a lot of things. But the free market argument only holds if the conditions for an actual free market exist, and in U.S. healthcare, several of those conditions are missing in ways that matter.

A functioning market requires price transparency. You cannot shop for healthcare the way you shop for a car. Prices are negotiated in private between insurers and providers, invisible to the patient until the bill arrives. You cannot make a rational purchasing decision when you cannot see the price in advance.

A functioning market requires the ability to walk away. You can decline to buy a car. You cannot decline a medical emergency. The asymmetry of need removes the basic leverage that makes markets work: the willingness and ability to say no.

A functioning market requires comparable alternatives. In a true market, the self-pay patient (the one paying cash, creating no collections risk, requiring no insurance company overhead) should get the best price, not the worst one. Instead, self-pay patients pay the rate insurance companies refuse to pay. That’s not market pricing. That’s the absence of negotiating power, dressed up as a market outcome.

This isn’t a case of a market failing to produce desired results. This is the absence of the conditions that make markets function at all. 

The free market argument, taken seriously, should conclude that this system isn’t a free market. It’s a series of negotiated monopolies with patients caught in the gaps between them.

The Coupling Problem

Let’s step back from my specific situation and look at the structural issue. In the U.S., healthcare access is coupled to employment in a way that creates a strange set of incentives, almost none of which serve the stated goals of either capitalism or public health.

If you lose your job, you lose your healthcare, at exactly the moment your financial situation makes healthcare hardest to afford. The system is structured to apply maximum pressure at the moment of maximum vulnerability.

This coupling also distorts labor market behavior in ways that should concern anyone who cares about economic efficiency, not just folks who care about healthcare access. 

People stay in jobs that aren’t the right fit (sometimes jobs that are actively harmful to their wellbeing or productivity) because changing jobs risks a coverage gap, a pre-existing condition fight, or a waiting period. 

People don’t start businesses despite solid ideas, because doing the math includes losing family healthcare, and that’s too much of a risk.  

Others don’t take that perfect role where they’d do their most valuable work, because the bog standard role that pays for insurance wins by default.

That’s not a side effect. That’s the system working as designed. It’s just not designed for what the audience we tell ourselves it’s made for.

What Other Systems Do Differently

It’s worth naming, briefly, that other developed economies have decoupled health coverage from employment in ways that preserve labor mobility without requiring the abolition of private healthcare entirely.

In much of the EU, healthcare access is tied to residency and contribution into a shared system, not to a specific employer. Change jobs, lose a job, start a business: coverage continues. The system doesn’t punish economic risk-taking with the threat of medical bankruptcy.

China and India, despite very different political and economic systems from each other and from the EU, have also moved toward models where employment status is not the sole determinant of healthcare access, recognizing, in their own ways, that an economy benefits when workers can move toward their most productive use without catastrophic personal risk.

These systems all have tradeoffs, but they do solve the specific problem I’m describing (the double penalty, the coupling of survival to a single employer relationship) in ways the U.S. system does not.

Why This Should Bother Conservatives Too

Here’s where I’d push back gently on anyone who sincerely holds the free-market position: this system isn’t pro-market. It’s anti-mobility, anti-entrepreneurship, and anti-risk-taking: three things conservative economic philosophy is supposed to prize.

A system that locks talented people into suboptimal jobs because they can’t risk the coverage gap is a system that misallocates labor. 

A system that prevents someone with a good business idea from leaving W2 employment to pursue it is a system that suppresses the exact kind of innovation and risk-taking that drives genuine economic growth. 

A system that treats the uninsured cash-paying patient worse than the insured one is a system with backward incentives, not market-correct ones.

If you believe in markets, you should want price transparency, comparable alternatives, and the ability to walk away: the actual preconditions for market function. What we have instead is something that resembles a market closely enough to use the language, without the structure that would make the language true.

Where I Land

I don’t have a tidy policy prescription to offer here, but I do know what the gap actually costs: in dollars, in stress, in the particular indignity of being charged more for the same care precisely because I have less ability to pay for it.

What I’d ask of anyone reading this, regardless of where you land politically, is to reflect on specific question: does this system actually function like the market it claims to be? If the answer is no, then defending it on free-market grounds isn’t defending markets. It’s defending the status quo using market language as cover.

That’s worth sitting with, whichever side of the aisle you’re on.

#healthcare #employment #employer-sponsored insurance #healthcare policy #labor #access to care #inequity #systemic incentives

A New Job Is Lurking Inside Your Design/Product Org

AI capability inside a design org doesn’t distribute itself.

Enthusiasts will adopt it, of course. They build their own local workflows and see some gains. They may hoard the knowledge — not out of malice, but because nobody’s asked them to share it around. Everyone else keeps working in more traditional fashion, often quietly ashamed of their (self-diagnosed) ignorance.

This is AI Adoption Debt. And it’s not a training problem. Training can build knowledge, but it doesn’t build systems.

The role that builds those systems is forming right now inside mature design and product organizations. It doesn’t have a consensus title yet, and in most orgs, it doesn’t exist at all. Many don’t even know they need it.

What the role is not

It’s not a prompt engineer. It’s not an AI evangelist. It’s not a design technologist in the traditional sense, and it’s not a product manager for your AI tooling budget. Those roles exist and they matter — but they’re not this.

What the role actually is

The role’s primary responsibility is managing organizational AI adoption infrastructure — ensuring that knowledge compounds across teams rather than concentrating among early adopters. It sits at the intersection of DesignOps, systems-level organizational thinking, change management, and technical depth (without requiring engineering-level skills).

AI doesn’t speed up decision-making. Decision-making is still the bottleneck. This role builds the systems that distribute AI leverage equitably across the org so that the bottleneck doesn’t also become a single point of failure.

Building that infrastructure calls for a specific mix of skills

    • Deep familiarity with design practice
    • Systems-level organizational thinking
    • Change management expertise
    • Technical depth (not engineering-level, but fluent)
    • Accumulated judgment and pattern recognition

The 5th dimension: A foundation of judgment

The first four are table stakes. The fifth — judgment — is what separates someone who can describe this role from someone who can actually do it. It’s the ability to read an organization’s readiness, sequence interventions correctly, and know when to push and when to wait. It accrues slowly, can’t be hired in from scratch, and is what makes this role genuinely hard to fill.

Where the role is “beaming in” right now

It’s appearing most visibly inside organizations that have already built mature DesignOps functions. Those teams have the operational muscle memory. They know how to run programs, own shared infrastructure, and manage change at scale. The AI layer is new; the organizational pattern is not.

It’s also showing up in product orgs — particularly in companies where product operations has developed enough structural maturity to absorb a new domain.

Why it doesn’t yet exist

Because most organizations are still in the tool-buying phase. Leadership approves the budget. Individuals experiment. Ninety days later there are a dozen parallel workflows that don’t talk to each other, and one or two enthusiasts burning out trying to carry everyone else toward the goal post.

Nobody paused to ask: who owns the system?

What to do if you’re building a design or product org right now

    1. Audit honestly. Map who’s using AI tools, how, and what’s been shared beyond their immediate team. The gaps will be obvious.
    2. Assign ownership. Not enthusiast ownership — organizational ownership. Someone with design knowledge, organizational authority, and an operational orientation.
    3. Start with vocabulary. Shared vocabulary is what makes it possible for a new hire to be productive in weeks instead of months. It’s the cheapest, highest-leverage infrastructure investment you can make before building anything else.

The organizations that recognize this structural gap early will have a compounding advantage over those waiting for the formal job title to arrive before they act.

The role is forming. The question is whether it forms intentionally inside your org, or by accident.


Originally published on LinkedIn on June 2, 2026.

This Isn’t Even a Unicorn Role. It’s Just Gibberish.

As a usability professional, the struggle with recruitment communications is real. I want to share some requirements from a recent UX job “description” — in quotes because it’s more of a laundry list of hopes and dreams than a coherent role definition.

Preface

Before I get into it – many items here are better suited for dedicated roles, or too broad for any single UX hire regardless of seniority. Some items are just… odd.

Here’s what this posting actually asked for

    • Establish the company’s technical vision — lead all aspects of the company’s technological development
    • Direct the company’s strategic direction, development and future growth
    • Do workshops internally and with customers
    • Conduct technological analyses and research
    • Open up new whitespaces for us
    • Help in pivoting our image from being an “executor” of designs to a “design & strategic” partner
    • Management of sales process and product delivery
    • Experience in overall transformation of Front/Back end systems for digitization
    • Experience in Mobile First Methodology to ensure internal systems are supported on all devices
    • Expert skills on Project management
    • QA/Test experience
    • PR/marketing experience

Breaking it down

CTO/VP Engineering territory: establish tech vision, lead technological development, direct strategic direction and future growth.

Niche or dedicated role territory: PR/marketing, sales process management, product delivery, project management, QA/Test.

Genuinely odd: “Open up new whitespaces for us.” I’ve been in this field a long time. I still don’t know what action I’m supposed to take on day one to accomplish that.

My Analysis

This isn’t a unicorn role. A unicorn role is a real job that asks for a rare combination of skills. This is a job description written by a committee that never stopped to ask: what does this person actually do on Tuesday morning?

Every touchpoint in your recruitment process is a signal about your organization. A job description this incoherent tells strong candidates — the ones with options — exactly what working there might feel like. They read it and move on.

If you’re writing a job description right now: start with what the person will own. Then what they’ll influence. Then what experience makes someone good at those specific things. That’s a job description. Everything else is a wishlist.

Originally shared on LinkedIn.