If there were a “word of the year” last year, and likely this year too, it would be AI.
The conversations are everywhere: fear, excitement, warnings, predictions. Will it replace jobs? Diminish creativity? Make us less human? Will students stop thinking? Will leaders stop leading? These are real concerns, and they deserve the attention they are getting.
But this is not a piece about what AI might do in the future. It is about something that is already happening, something small and almost incidental. An anecdote from our work that has stayed with us.
Inside the AI Builders’ Room
We were working with a senior leadership team at a technology company, one that is actively building AI and explicitly encouraging its employees to use it. This was not a skeptical audience, but people inside the machine.
They spoke candidly about their hesitations and fears about using AI. They worried about unintended consequences, about jobs being replaced, about losing something essential, some creativity or depth that could not be easily named.
But as they began to describe how they were actually using AI, what they used it for, where it helped, what it made easier, something happened. The energy in the room shifted. It was no longer fearful. Things felt exciting and creative. There was a buzz.
One person talked about drafting and redrafting communications more quickly, which freed them up to think more carefully about tone and impact. Another described using AI to synthesize massive amounts of research so they could focus on judgment instead of data wrangling. Someone else described how it helped them prepare for conversations they would have otherwise rushed into underprepared.
What stood out was not just the ingenuity of their use cases, but the emotional contrast. Right alongside fear and skepticism was genuine excitement.
The Question That Changed the Room
Then we asked them to consider this: if AI could give you back twenty percent of your time, what would you do with that time?
The room went silent. There was a long, thoughtful pause, as if the question had not occurred to anyone before. They had been so focused on whether they should use AI, how to manage the risks, and whether their jobs might become obsolete that they had not stopped to consider what its gift might be.
Eventually, someone spoke.
“I would like more time to work with my team, instead of just coordinating them.”
Another said, “I would finally have space to develop people instead of just managing output.”
“More face-to-face time,” someone added. “Real conversations.”
“Travel to other GEOs to spend time with people and understand what is actually happening.”
“I would mentor more.”
“Teach.”
“Think about the next generation of leaders.”
Every answer pointed in the same direction: human-centered work.
No one said, “I would just do more.” No one talked about squeezing in more deliverables or filling the time with another layer of productivity. What they longed for was relationship, growth, and meaningful engagement.
What AI Might Give Back
We all looked at each other, slightly stunned.
Here we were, in a room full of people building and deploying one of the most powerful technologies of our time. The dominant public fear is that AI will strip us of our humanity, distance us from one another, flatten creativity, and reduce us to outputs.
Yet the conversation in the room was not about what AI will take from us, but what it will give back.
And more importantly, what we will do with the time it gives back.
Freed time is not automatically better time. It has to be designed deliberately.
The fear that AI could erode our humanity is real. But so is the possibility that it could return us to the very things we say we have lost: connection, mentorship, reflection, shared work, and learning together.
What we took away from that afternoon was something that is often missing in the noise and clamor: the future is not shaped only by tools, but by intention.
If you were given back twenty percent of your time, what would you do with it?