I've spent twenty years telling people to make time for innovation. Last week, in front of a room I love teaching, I finally saw the flaw in the advice.

The chief AI officer of Logitech texted me a list of my AI tells. My first instinct was exactly wrong.

Stand on a Manhattan street corner in 1900 and try to predict Jamba Juice.

The most important KPI of the AI era is one you've never heard of — because I made it up. It's called TTFS, nobody's dashboard tracks it, and yours is probably way too high.

The people most worried about AI are using it the most. The people using it least aren't worried — they've left the field. That quiet exit is the most expensive instinct in professional life.

I heard it inside the Fort Knox of plutonium, from some of the smartest engineers alive: "AI is just not there yet." Here's what that sentence actually costs.

The build took an hour. The insight took sixteen years. You probably have a number that would move your business and has never hit a dashboard — not because it's unmeasurable, but because no one ever named it."

What if the best AI economy isn't one person building a billion-dollar company, but a million people building businesses they actually care about? A guest essay from my Beyond the Prompt co-host Henrik Werdelin and his Audos co-founder Nicholas Thorne.

A reader wrote the same report twice — once with plain ChatGPT, once with his Teammate Stack. Same person, same AI model, same task. Only one of them sounded like him.

You wanted self-starters. You built a permission structure. No wonder everyone is waiting.

He had a tattoo that said "Call me a baby because dolphins make me cry." He also said he'd pour hot oil on a kitchen robot to keep his job. I met him because I turned down Dave Grohl to hold a sign in Washington Square. Here's what I learned.

The prompt before the prompt is noticing what deserves attention.

I asked my AI chief of staff to read 50 pre-event transcripts and write the FAQ I'd been avoiding for months. It took three minutes.

Reese Witherspoon asked her book club, "do you use AI?" Three million people watched. The internet split — and both sides were right, because they were arguing about the wrong word.

A real concern is not a valid conclusion. An EVP in finance emailed me last week about AI sycophancy. Most people raise that concern as an off-ramp. He made it the curriculum.

There are levels of AI augmentation: Some people use AI to draft emails. Josh used it to run 27 agents on a single problem, from his mobile on the road, with all the context of his laptop at home. Those are not the same thing.

Andrej Karpathy hasn't typed a line of code since December. That sentence has a blank in it — fill it with your word, and something shifts.

When Manu Ginobili raised his hand during a Spurs AI session and said "Could AI...?" — that was the ball game. The answer to almost every "could it" question is yes. The problem is most people don't have a question yet.

There are two fears circulating in the age of AI. One is fuel. The other is self-fulfilling. A neuroscientist recently explained why — and it changed how I think about every AI conversation I have.

This Week: Guest Post from Brice Challamel , Head of AI Strategy and Adoption at OpenAI — If AI can draft the memo, build the deck, and prototype the product, what exactly is the professional's contribution? Brice says it's not "less" — it's "different." Read his case for the shift from authorship to stewardship.