The divide AI is opening between workers is not a talent gap. It is a design gap.
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My last piece was about capital: that as AI compounds the returns to ownership, the work of this decade is to get ordinary people onto the compounding side of the economy before the divide hardens into a canyon. This one is about labor — the people still in the room as the machines arrive, and a second divide quietly opening among them.
By now, the observation is almost commonplace: artificial intelligence is making some people duller and some people sharper.
Everyone has watched a version of it: the student who lets the model write the essay and retains nothing, and the student who argues with it until midnight and comes away having done and actually understood a month’s worth of thinking. Same tool, opposite outcomes. One person outsourced their mind, and it quietly shrank; the other used it as a sparring partner and reached ideas that were previously out of range.
The same split is coming for the workplace, and here the choice may belong to the employer as much as the employee. AI is making some workers measurably sharper and some, well, not. And which side your people land on depends far less on them than on the thoughtfulness with which you put the technology in their hands.
There is a massive effort underway to bring AI into organizations, automate processes, drive efficiency, and lift profits. That is a good thing. But perhaps we should ask other questions:
- How do we bring AI into every workflow to improve efficiency and grow human talent and intelligence at the same time?
- How do we make every employee more like the analyst who did a month’s worth of real thinking and advanced their own mind in an afternoon?
Left alone, the pull is toward efficiency alone — every convenient feature quietly doing a little more of the thinking until the person can’t. But the same fact runs the other way, and this is the hopeful part. If which side a worker lands on is engineerable, then it can be engineered well. Imagine building the sharpening directly into the workflow — designing the tool so that the very act of using it leaves the worker knowing more than they did the day before. The analyst getting smarter can be an engineering decision.
I stumbled into a small, concrete version of this while building TraversalIQ, an AI intelligence layer that at my AI training company, Amplifire, rides on top of the CRM (the tracking software for all of a company’s sales, marketing, and client relationship management). The moment came down to a design choice most companies would make without a second thought, the kind that looks like nothing in a planning meeting and quietly decides who your people become.
The Discussion Step
One corner of TraversalIQ prepares account executives for discovery — the first real meeting with a prospect, where a deal is quietly won or lost in the quality of the questions asked and the listening and interaction that follows.
Give the account executive (AE) a list of standard discovery questions and an AI tool, and the efficient thing to build is a button: click it, and the AI system researches the company and everyone attending, then hands back a clean, personalized list of discovery questions, tailored to exactly this account and people, at the speed of AI. The AE walks in with a perfect script, but has learned nothing because the system did the learning, and a script read aloud is not the same as understanding the room you are standing in.
Now remember what a discovery meeting actually is. It is not a questionnaire; it is a live conversation, where the value comes from following unexpected answers, reading the person who shifts in their seat, and asking the second question that no list anticipated. An AE working from a generated script can only ask question one.
So we built the prep step differently. Instead of generating a script, the AI explores the account with the AE. It lays out what it found.
- This company just reorganized around the exact problem we solve
- Someone in the room said something telling during last quarter’s earnings call
- The lead executive in the meeting posted this on social media yesterday
Then it turns the question back to the AE: Given all that, what are we really trying to learn in this meeting, and from whom? The AI could easily make the call and hand over a finished script, but at exactly that point we engineered a pause. The questions get shaped in the exchange, not handed down. The AE comes away having genuinely and curiously explored the account and walks in able to manage the conversation rather than read from a list. Smarter, not just faster. It is my hope that reps who prepare this way grow into better sellers over time, not just better-briefed ones.
It is a small piece of friction, placed on purpose, in exactly the spot where a person needs to learn. And it is the whole game because eventually the AE is in the room, and there is no AI at the table.
Turning RLHF Around
That small design choice is an instance of something larger — a loop the industry has named only half of.
The technique everyone talks about is RLHF, reinforcement learning from human feedback: the machine learns from us, a vast amount of human judgment poured in to make it useful. But there is a second human-computer loop, one we have to engineer on purpose — Reinforcement Human Learning from Computer Feedback (RHLCF), the mirror image of one of the industry’s favorite acronyms.
Wherever a person and an AI work together on a task, that loop is running whether carefully designed or not. Build the workflow like a button, and it teaches humans to be less intelligent. And this is what happens when you optimize only for speed. The reverse loop is always on. The only question is how you engineered it. And of course, you always want the loop to run both directions, so we also engineered the AI to learn from each human interaction and get smarter along the way.
Completion Is Not Competence
Learning science has a blunt way of explaining why the button fails: completion is not competence. Finishing the training is not the same as knowing the thing. A person can click through the training, feel confident, and still be confidently wrong — a state more expensive than plain ignorance. The one-click script manufactures exactly that: the sensation of a job done, with none of the understanding.
What the conversation adds is what psychologist Robert Bjork called a desirable difficulty — a small, deliberate effort placed precisely where the learning has to happen. Friction in the wrong place is just inefficiency, and AI should erase it without mercy: the drudgery, the formatting, the blank page. But friction in the right place is pedagogy. The craft of designing AI tools is learning to tell the two apart, to automate the drudgery and leave the desirable difficulty exactly where the human is meant to grow.

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