8-5-2026

The silent burnout behind the AI revolution

What a time to be working in IT. A feature that took me six weeks last year, I now deliver on a Friday afternoon, with Claude or Copilot by my side. Advisory documents that I used to chew on for weeks are finished in days. Groundbreaking. Truly.

And yet, something is gnawing at me.

To start with, something uncomfortable that I hardly dare say out loud. A large part of the work bearing my name is no longer entirely mine. A prompt here, a suggestion there, a phrasing I didn't come up with myself but did approve. It works. It is even good. But when someone compliments me on that one elegant piece of reasoning, I feel a brief hesitation. Should I add something, or should I keep my mouth shut? A sort of imposter syndrome, but with a new flavor. Not the fear that I can't do it, but the realization that something else is doing part of it for me.

Meanwhile, I see colleagues trying to do “just one prompt” in the evening, finishing one more piece. After all, the AI keeps working. Claude doesn't sleep, knows no weekends, and doesn't ask for time off. And that creates an expectation that is never voiced aloud: if the tools are available 24/7, why shouldn't humans be?

The paradox is bitter. Technology is supposed to make our work easier, but in practice, the standard simply shifts along with it. What was fast last year is now slow. What was good enough is now substandard. The bar isn't raised just a little; it disappears from view.

For an architect, AI is actually simply ideal, by the way. I can now design systems without being dependent on a team of stubborn colleagues who question every choice three times over. Claude always listens, never sighs, and if I overhaul my design at four-thirty on Friday, he cheerfully goes along with it. In fact, he occasionally gives me the friendly advice to stop prompting after midnight, and if I ignore that, he just carries on. A team of juniors with boundless energy and genuine interest in everything I say. Wonderful. And that is exactly where the sting lies. Because without that stubborn colleague shouting “Are you sure about this?”, the natural brake on my own pace disappears too.

Meanwhile, organizations focus primarily on the output. Roadmaps shorter, deadlines tighter, teams thinned out. “Surely AI can do this faster?” is the new standard question in every steering committee. But no one asks if humans can actually keep up this pace. And whether we actually want to.

I sincerely believe in the promise of AI. Perhaps the most beautiful leap forward since the rise of the internet. But if we are not careful, we will end up with an industry where the tools are tireless and the people are worn out. Where no one dares to say where their work ends and the machine’s work begins anymore.

We talk enough about what AI *can* do. About what it does to *us*, hardly at all. And as long as that remains the case, we are not heading for a productivity revolution. Instead, we are heading for a collective IT burnout.

This column was made possible in part by Claude.