The cocktail party question that has defined us for generations — “So, what do you do?” — may soon become as obsolete as asking someone for directions to the nearest payphone.
Sam Altman, OpenAI’s CEO, recently told Bloomberg that “the world isn’t ready for” what’s coming next. While we’ve been fretting about AI chatbots writing our emails and generating our presentations, Altman says the real shock will come when we’re “walking down the street and seeing like seven robots that walk past you doing things.” That moment, he warns, isn’t “very far away.”
The implications stretch far beyond the factory floor. These aren’t the clunky automatons of science fiction — they’re AI-powered Swiss Army knives that can download expertise faster than you can say “skill shortage.” Need a plumber at 2 a.m.? The robot can handle it. Facing a nursing shortage in long-term care? Problem solved. Storm knocked out power lines? An army of mechanical repair crews can restore the grid while we sleep.
This isn’t speculation wrapped in silicon valley hype. OpenAI has already partnered with Figure AI, whose humanoid robot Figure-01 is designed for manufacturing, logistics, warehousing and retail. The technology exists. The question isn’t whether this transformation will happen, but how quickly — and whether we’ll be ready for the psychological earthquake that follows.
It’s important to remember that work isn’t just how we pay our bills. It’s how we introduce ourselves, measure our worth, and find meaning in our days. Strip that away, and we’re left staring at a fundamental question that makes debates about remote work policies look quaint: What’s the point of us?
The challenge runs deeper than economics. Even if we solve the obvious problems — universal basic income, retraining programs, new social safety nets — we’ll still face what might be called the Purpose Problem. Humans aren’t wired to be passengers in their own lives. We need to feel useful, to contribute something that matters, to wake up with a reason to get dressed.
Yet this disruption also creates opportunities for those who can see past the obvious panic. The key lies in understanding what makes us irreplaceably human.
Lessons from craft beer
Consider the explosion in craft brewing over the past two decades. Large-scale beer production became increasingly automated, yet small breweries multiplied because people craved authenticity, story, and human connection.
The robot can mix the perfect cocktail, but it can’t share the story behind the recipe or remember your grandfather’s favourite drink. (Well, actually, it can. But not genuinely or authentically.)
The same principle applies across industries. A robot surgeon might have steadier hands and access to every medical journal ever published, but patients will still want the human doctor who can look them in the eye and explain what’s happening in words they understand. An AI can compose a technically perfect song with a catchy hook, but audiences will flock to the musician who wrote lyrics about their own heartbreak at 3 a.m.
The future economy won’t eliminate human work — it will bifurcate it. On one side, robots will handle tasks that can be optimized, standardized, and scaled. On the other, humans will dominate everything that requires authenticity, creativity, empathy, and personal connection.
The ‘experience economy’
This creates rich opportunities in what we might call the “experience economy.” Personal trainers won’t disappear because robots can calculate optimal workout routines; they’ll thrive because people want encouragement from someone who understands the struggle of changing habits. Teachers won’t become obsolete because AI can deliver perfect lessons; they’ll become more valuable as mentors who inspire curiosity and help students navigate complex emotions.
The artisan economy will boom. Hand-thrown pottery, custom furniture, bespoke clothing — anything that carries the story of human hands and human vision will command premium prices. Not because it’s functionally superior to mass-produced alternatives, but because it’s authentically human in a world increasingly managed by machines.
Trust and relationships
Service businesses built on trust and relationship will flourish. Financial advisors who understand your family’s unique story, therapists who can navigate the complexity of human emotion, consultants who can read the unspoken dynamics in a boardroom — these roles require the kind of nuanced understanding that comes from lived experience, not downloaded data.
The entertainment and content creation industries will explode with opportunity. People will pay premium prices for human-created art, music, writing, and performance — not because it’s technically perfect, but because it’s emotionally authentic. The robot can paint a photorealistic portrait, but it can’t capture the mischievous glint in your daughter’s eyes that only someone who’s been four years old can truly understand.
Evolving, not disappearing, professions
Even traditional professions will evolve rather than disappear. Lawyers won’t vanish because AI can draft contracts; they’ll focus on negotiation, relationship-building, and the kind of strategic thinking that comes from understanding human nature. Accountants won’t be replaced by software that can crunch numbers; they’ll become trusted advisors who help families and businesses navigate complex decisions about their futures.
The organizations that thrive will be those that help their people make this transition now, while there’s still time to adapt. That means investing in uniquely human skills — emotional intelligence, creative problem-solving, cultural competency, and the ability to build genuine relationships. It means celebrating and developing the messy, imperfect, gloriously human aspects of work that no algorithm can replicate.
As Altman himself said, predicting exactly how this transformation will unfold is impossible. But one thing seems certain: in a world where robots can do almost everything, the most valuable humans will be those who can do something that matters precisely because a human did it.
The cocktail party question of the future might not be “What do you do?” but rather “What do you do that only you can do?” The answer to that question will determine not just our economic survival, but our sense of purpose in an age of artificial everything.
