Labor Day Meets AI: My Question About Work

Labor Day snuck up on me this year. Someone mentioned it a week late, and I realized I hadn’t even noticed. At the same time, I was reading McKinsey’s State of AI report: 75% of firms now use AI in at least one function, but only 1% are mature. Ninety-two percent plan to invest more.

For me, Labor Day and AI collided into the same quiet question: what is work actually for?

I’ve built companies, written books, raised kids, and tried to make sense of how the world moves. And now I find myself staring at tools that both accelerate me and unsettle me. AI doesn’t just type—it holds up a mirror. I see my shortcuts, my status games, my dashboard-watching habits. I see how much of “knowledge work” is really busywork. And underneath all the noise is a whisper: who are you when the typing is easy?

Two Choices I See

1. Walk Away From the Dance

I could refuse the tools. Make work only a human could make—the kind that smells like judgment and risk.

If I try to compete with “free and instant,” I need to be irreplaceable. Not louder—truer. Not faster—deeper. I’ve learned that my edge isn’t speed. My edge is taste.

Mall portrait studios lost to “good enough” at home. The same pull threatens bland prose. When output is cheap, attention prices up.

The artisan’s path tempts me: slower, pricier, personal. The point isn’t nostalgia; it’s nerve—the willingness to make something only I would risk making.

What it takes for me: Ship less and matter more. Charge for outcomes, not word count. Build a body of work stitched from my scars, not a model’s averages.

2. Dance With the Machine

Or I could lean in. Automate the boring, keep the taste. Use the tools to buy back the only scarce resource—attention, mine and my reader’s.

I’ve been a founder long enough to know reinvention is part of the job. In this season, it might mean promoting myself from typist to editor-in-chief of my own operation. Faster cycles, bigger bets, same rule: I still sign my name to every word.

AI slop is everywhere. But human slop was here first. “Good enough” has a waiting list. So I raise my bar and try to keep it there.

What it takes for me: Own the workflow. Set guardrails. Fact-check like a skeptic who still believes in truth. Publish only what I’d defend live, on stage, with the lights up.

The Labor Question

At the core, both paths point to the same thing: create real value for people who care.

The real question isn’t whether AI changes work. It already did. The question is identity. Who am I when the dashboard pings fade and the keyboard is quiet?

Tech doesn’t erase the human condition—it turns up the contrast. Envy looks like “more.” Fear looks like “faster.” Love looks like “this is worth my time.”

And conviction? That’s the labor no machine can replace.

The Real Work I Choose

What fails? Complaining. Copy-paste mediocrity. Pretending clients won’t notice AI can now do 80% of the old deliverable.

What works? Bringing uncommon value—either as the craftsperson or the conductor. Using the machine to clear the brush, then choosing the trail. AI can mimic tone. It can’t choose what matters. That’s on me—my taste, my patience, my willingness to say “no” more often than “publish.”

FAQ

Q: What does “walk away” look like for you?
A: Fewer projects, higher stakes. Essays, keynotes, books, original work with real risk. Slow, sharp, unmistakably mine.

Q: If you “dance with AI,” where do you start?
A: Drafts, research, cleanup—yes. But the taste, sources, and final pass stay human. No publish without me.

Q: Is AI replacing writers in 2025?
A: Tasks, yes. Taste, no. Adoption is broad; maturity is 1%. Judgment still wins.

Q: How do you keep quality high with AI in the mix?
A: Tighter briefs. Cited sources. Reading aloud. Shipping only what I’d defend live.

Q: What should I learn next?
A: Prompt like an editor. Use retrieval for truth. Visuals for clarity. And pricing—value needs a number.

About the Author

Miles Spencer is a multi-exit founder, investor, and storyteller. His work at the intersection of memory and technology is rooted in personal experience and a deep belief in legacy.