You might expect that the YouTubers or podcasters with the largest followings would be the actors or TV personalities you grew up watching. But that’s not the case. Instead, they’re people just like you and me.

Here’s the thing—the people you grew up watching were just like you and me, too.

The same shift happened with print media.

Am I suggesting you become an influencer or start a YouTube channel? Not necessarily. I still don’t have one, despite years of procrastination. But what I am saying is that we now live in a world filled with unlimited opportunities and endless connections. Waiting for someone to pick you up is a race to the bottom.

You don’t need to wait for someone to discover you.

Look around. Find a problem you care about and start talking about it with others who care about it, too.

Why is this important? Because the flip side of a world with unlimited possibilities is a world with unlimited distractions, many of which disguise themselves as productive activities.

The internet amplifies the shiny stuff. But the real work—the meaningful work—happens in the trenches with people who care. Do that work consistently, and you will see results.

We’ve all been conditioned to believe that busy equals productive—that if we’re not constantly juggling tasks, we’re somehow falling behind.

But let’s take a step back. Think about a freeway, It’s designed to keep cars moving, to get you from one place to another. But when too many cars flood the lanes, everything slows down. Progress grinds to a halt.

The same thing happens in our work lives. We pile on tasks, meetings, and projects, thinking that more means better. But all we’re doing is creating a traffic jam of our own making. Instead of making progress, we’re just inching along, stuck in the congestion of too much.

Optimizing the flow of work isn’t about doing more.

It’s about making space for what really matters. It’s about understanding that sometimes, doing less—and doing it with intention—leads to better outcomes.

 What are we optimizing for?

Are we just trying to get through the day faster, to check off more boxes?

Or are we optimizing for value?

And if we’re optimizing for value, what does that mean?

Who’s it for?

How do we know it’s valuable?

These are the questions worth asking. Because if we’re not clear on what value is, if we don’t know who it’s for or why it matters, then we’re just adding more cars to the freeway, hoping that speed will somehow lead to success.

So next time you’re tempted to add one more thing to your plate, pause. Ask yourself: What’s the value here? And is this the best way to create it? Because real productivity isn’t about doing more. It’s about doing what matters.

We will always have people who make stuff.

Technology isn’t going to replace that.

Technology has only ever replaced those who wait to be told what to do.

I can’t help but think about how our educational system has consistently rewarded us for simply following instructions. It grades us on how well we did what we were told, nothing more.

So what’s the solution?

The solution is to flip the script.

Instead of rewarding compliance, we need to start rewarding initiative.

Instead of teaching students to follow instructions, we need to teach them to ask better questions, to challenge the status quo, to make their own maps in uncharted territory.

The future doesn’t belong to those who wait for instructions. It belongs to the makers, the initiators, the ones who see what others don’t and do what others won’t.

The real job isn’t to do what you’re told. It’s to create work that matters, to lead without a map, and to be the one who asks, “What if?”

That’s how you become irreplaceable in a world where technology is replacing everything else.

You walk into a room filled with 15 bright-eyed 7-year-olds, each one a bundle of potential. You’re tasked with picking the smartest. But how do you define “smart” in a world where intelligence wears many hats?

Do you hand them a standardized test, one-size-fits-all, and measure their scores? But what if these children speak different languages, come from different worlds? Does a number on a paper truly capture their brilliance?

Or maybe, you decide to give them an activity—a challenge, a puzzle, a game—and watch closely. Who thrives under pressure, who thinks outside the box, who collaborates, who leads? But then, what if the goal is not to find the smartest, but the leader? Do you look for the tallest, the loudest, the most confident?

Perhaps the real question is not about finding the smartest or the leader, but about recognizing the different kinds of intelligence and leadership. Who’s the quiet thinker, the empathetic listener, the creative problem-solver?

Maybe the question isn’t about choosing at all, but about how we define success and value in a group of young minds, each with its own unique spark. What if the goal was to nurture all of them, to help each one shine in their own way?

In the end, the questions we ask might matter more than the answers we seek.