The capability curve is moving faster than almost anyone predicted. The absorption curve — what organisations can actually take on — moves at the speed organisations have always moved.
That second speed gets treated as timidity. It usually isn't. Sign-off chains, audit trails, procurement review, training programmes: each exists because something went wrong once and someone decided it shouldn't again. It's accumulated caution, and most of it is load-bearing. The gap between the two curves is where my work happens.
The pattern is familiar by now. Someone builds a prototype, it does something genuinely useful, everyone in the room agrees it's impressive. Then it stops — not because the model failed, but because nobody can answer what comes next. Who approves this. What happens when it's wrong. Which data it's allowed to touch. Who's accountable when it makes a call nobody reviewed. And what happens to the people whose roles were built around the process you've just automated.
Those aren't AI problems. They're delivery problems — the same governance, integration and change questions that have always decided whether technology gets adopted or quietly abandoned. AI makes them harder because the output isn't deterministic. Same question, different answer, no spec to point at. In an environment where every change is signed off and audited, a system that can't reproduce its own reasoning is a governance problem before it's a technical one.
The answer isn't to ask an organisation to trust the output. You can't, and you shouldn't. The answer is to design where the human sits. A lot can be delegated. Anything with real consequences needs someone who reviewed it and owns it. Getting that boundary right — what runs unattended, what gets proposed for review, what never leaves a person's hands — is the actual design work, and it's what separates a tool people depend on from a demo that impressed everyone once.
The other shift is closer to home. I'm not an engineer. Two years ago, if I wanted a tool, I wrote a requirement and waited. Now I build it. PM Hub exists because the distance between describing software and having it collapsed.
That's happening across every function. The roles are blending — one person can be a passable developer, designer and analyst at once. Not expertly, but well enough to ship something real. Which means the scarce skill stops being the ability to produce the artefact and becomes the judgment about which artefact is worth producing at all.
So I'd expect a new kind of role to come out of this, and I think it's already forming: people who understand business processes well enough to know what they're actually for, who can think critically about where they break, and who can now build improvements rather than specify them for someone else and wait. That's the job I've effectively been doing for the past couple of years. There's going to be a lot more of it.
PM Hub is what that looks like in practice →