October 27, 2026 | Issue Archive
Videos | Speaking | Blog | Book
I Didn’t Sign Up for This
Sometimes the hardest part of change isn't what you're losing, but letting go of what you thought made you valuable.
“I didn’t sign up for this.”
Maybe you’ve said it yourself.
A new leader. A merger. A reorganization. A job that looks nothing like the one you accepted.
Or a new technology that’s changing the work you spent years learning how to do.
I heard a version of it again this week.
I was talking with a leader about what his team is experiencing as AI becomes part of their everyday work.
Some people are excited about what’s possible. Others are afraid of what they might lose. And many are feeling both things at once.
One sentiment he described really stuck with me:
I signed up to build things. Not to feed prompts into a machine.
He was talking about software engineers whose work is changing as AI takes on more of the coding they used to do themselves.
I couldn’t help but think, this isn’t just about AI.
Because sometimes the hardest part of change isn’t learning something new.
It’s wondering what happens to the person you’ve spent years becoming.
Think about it.
We don’t just build careers. We build identities around them.
I’m the person who knows how to solve this problem.
I’m the person who built this team.
I’m the person who always delivers.
I’m the person who belongs here.
And when circumstances change, those familiar answers suddenly feel less certain.
What happens when the expertise you’ve spent years developing is no longer needed in quite the same way?
When the organization you helped build becomes part of something else?
When the role that gave you a sense of purpose starts to disappear?
It’s tempting to call that resistance to change.
But sometimes it’s grief.
Because not everything we’re asked to let go of is bad.
Sometimes it’s something we loved. Something that worked. Something we were proud of.
And losing it hurts.
I don’t want to pretend otherwise.
Some people will lose work they genuinely love. Some roles will become less fulfilling. Some organizations will handle these transitions badly.
And telling someone their purpose is safe when their job isn’t would be its own kind of dishonesty.
But here’s something I’ve been thinking about:
You are more than the way you’ve learned to be valuable.
The engineer may love writing code. But perhaps underneath that is an even deeper love of creating something that didn’t exist yesterday.
The leader may love the team they built. But perhaps underneath that is a gift for bringing people together around something meaningful.
The salesperson may love closing deals. But perhaps underneath that is the satisfaction of earning someone’s trust and helping them solve a problem.
The how matters. Sometimes deeply.
But it may not be the only way to express the why.
And when the how changes, remembering the why can give us somewhere to stand while the ground moves.
That’s what Clarity is about.
Not having all the answers.
Remembering what matters most.
And being honest about what doesn’t.
THIS ENDS NOW
The belief that your value is inseparable from your title, your role, or the way you’ve always done your work.
Maybe it’s time to loosen your grip on the how.
Not because it didn’t matter.
But because what matters most might be bigger than any one way of expressing it.
THIS MOMENT MATTERS
When life or work starts changing around you, I invite you to recalibrate your Compass.
Three questions I come back to:
1. What business are we really in?
Look beyond the title, the job description, or the familiar routine.
What are you actually here to contribute?
2. Where is the joy?
Not just what’s comfortable or familiar.
What lights you up? What part of your work—or your life—still feels deeply meaningful?
3. What’s the right thing right now?
You don’t have to figure out the whole future.
Given what you know today, and what matters most to you, what’s one choice you can make?
Take a few minutes with those questions. Write down what comes up.
You may discover that something you’ve been trying desperately to protect isn’t the thing that matters most after all.
Or you may discover that what matters most is still very much alive—even if the way you express it needs to change.
Either way, you have a clearer place to begin.
Because maybe you didn’t sign up for what your work—or your life—is becoming.
But you still get to decide who you’re becoming in response.
Take a breath. Feel your feet on the floor.
You’re still here.
And there’s still something meaningful you can do with this moment.
Up we go—
P.S. If someone forwarded this to you and you want it in your inbox every week—subscribe here.
P.P.S. On November 10, I’ll be speaking on the main stage at Great Lakes AI Week at Bowling Green State University about the human skills that matter most as AI changes how we work. If you’re nearby, I’d love to see you there!