Being early in my career sucks.

So I am 22 years old. I don’t know a lot about anything. I’ll be the first to admit that. But I will also be the first to admit that it sucks not knowing anything. I think what sucks the most is that…these days, even people who are later on in their career are having a hard time securing a decent footing. It’s not easy with so many question marks. Is AI going to take my job? What is AI?

I may have an advantage, being so close to it all. Living in the Bay Area, graduating from Berkeley, and being best friends with Amazon engineers, Deepmind researchers, YC founders, etc. has given me a perspective that is undoubtedly more rounded than say, a farmhand in Kentucky. But AI is not going to do a farmhand’s work in Kentucky, at least not anytime soon (need to scale robotics, manufacture them, etc).

Speaking of YC, I was perusing one of their recent batches and saw not one, but two products that claim to be “AI Product Designers”. What was once the most “human” and “empathetic” job in all of tech is now also in danger.

But at the same time, a recent conversation I had with a buddy of mine (who is way more in the AI weeds than I will likely ever be) enlightened me. “Even if AGI is achieved”, he explained, “a human still needs to DO that”. I guess that made sense. So my revelation, which isn’t new or revulationary by any means at all, is that AI isn’t going to take jobs, but change them in ways we don’t fully understand yet. Change them slowly in some places, violently in others. Maybe it won’t replace designers, but it will force them to level up. It’ll automate the mockups, the user flows, the A/B tests. But it won’t know what feels right. It won’t know how to design for fear, joy, anxiety, or curiosity. Not yet, anyway.

Still, that’s not a comforting thought. Because the question becomes—if it’s not taking my job, then who am I in this new system? Am I still valuable? Am I training for something that’s disappearing? And if I’m not training for that, what am I training for?

I don’t have good answers. I’m 22. I’m not supposed to. But there’s something deeply uncomfortable about being early in your career right now. You don’t have leverage. You don’t have clarity. You don’t have “ten years of experience” to fall back on. You’re just out here, throwing darts in the dark, hoping one of them sticks. You apply to jobs you’re not sure you want. You build projects you’re not sure anyone needs. You network with people who feel ten steps ahead and politely nod while you try to fake confidence.

There’s no clear playbook anymore. The paths that used to be stable—grad school, big tech, medicine—are now riddled with doubt. Everything feels temporary. You can work hard for years and still feel behind. You can do all the right things and still end up invisible.

But I’ve also come to realize that being early isn’t all pain. It’s also freedom. I have nothing to protect yet. No mortgage, no kids, no reputation to defend. I can move fast. I can take big swings. I can experiment like crazy without worrying if I look foolish. That’s the part I’m leaning into.

So no—I don’t know a lot. But I’m paying attention. I’m talking to smart people. I’m staying curious. I’m letting my career be a sandbox, not a straight line. And maybe, in a time when everyone feels like they’re supposed to have it all figured out, that’s enough.