The single most famous fact about Python stopped being unconditionally true last year, and I found out from a beginner course. The language didn't sneak past me. I left the room where it changes.
AI makes the session feel smooth, and smooth is the signal motor-learning research tells you not to trust. Which reps you keep is now a decision you have to make on purpose.
AI moved every delivery metric in the right direction. The two things that got worse weren't on the dashboard, and a leader watching only the green numbers will add scope right on top of them.
A model will write kinder feedback than you will. It still can't tell you there's something to address, when to raise it, or when the right move is to say nothing.
Martial arts makes experts redo the basics on a schedule. Software has no such mechanism, so beginner's mind stops being a virtue and becomes a budget you spend on purpose.
Autonomous agent loops don't remove you from the work, they relocate you — onto the spec you write up front and the big diff you review but never watched grow.
AI collapsed the cost of writing code and changed nothing about the cost of owning it. Velocity is a development-time number. The bill is a lifetime one.
AI gave me the throughput to cover a role I don't normally hold — but not the judgment that role is made of. A release, an incident, and a skill I'd outsourced.
Time in the game-master's chair turned out to be management practice in disguise: session zero, the spotlight problem, and the players who hijack the plot.