The Kruegerization of Work

By Kenneth Ferraro

AI isn’t coming for your job — the algorithm already did.
It’s not just running code anymore; it’s running companies. What started as software is now culture. Algorithms have crept out of the servers and into boardrooms, quietly reshaping how organizations think. They don’t innovate; they reinforce. They don’t imagine; they measure. And what they measure becomes law.

What once shined on your résumé — initiative, leadership, creativity — can now look like a liability. Recruiters aren’t searching for builders; they’re scanning for compliance. The algorithm doesn’t see potential; it sees predictability. Curiosity and risk-taking, once signs of strength, are now red flags.

The reason some of the most capable people can’t get hired isn’t that they’re too old or too expensive — it’s that they think. They have opinions, instincts, and the nerve to ask “why.” That used to be an asset. Today it’s a liability. Companies that once prized innovation now bow to shareholders’ demands. And the surest way to maintain mediocrity is to surround themselves with people who never rock the boat.

That stability feels safe. Metrics stay clean, reports stay green, and shareholders sleep soundly knowing nothing unpredictable is happening. Irregularity — once the spark of progress — has been extinguished with bland year-over-year disclosures.

The innovators who once stood out for initiative now learn to stay quiet, because initiative creates variance, and variance can’t be quantified. Companies call this “efficiency,” but it’s really algorithmic conformity: a workplace where the safest ideas are the ones already supported by data.

This is the Kruegerization of work — the point where systems stop trusting people and people start trusting systems. It’s Dunning–Kruger on an industrial scale: the blind confidence of institutions convinced they know what makes humans valuable. The process has become the authority, and questioning it feels almost impolite.

So we adapt.
The modern résumé isn’t a record of achievement — it’s a declaration of alignment. It says, “I understand the system and won’t disrupt it.” Don’t brag about breakthroughs; highlight how well you follow procedure. Promise to maintain the numbers and avoid surprises. Call it collaboration.

Because in today’s market, risk terrifies everyone. A company that dips for a quarter to restructure for long-term health gets labeled a failure before the ink dries. Panic follows, and capital flees. Conformity, not creativity, becomes the survival strategy.

We also need to stop trying to find meaning at work.
Companies stopped looking for meaning in people a long time ago. The modern workplace isn’t a calling — it’s a calculation. The corporate mission statement isn’t a creed; it’s a spreadsheet. When profit becomes the only purpose, purpose itself turns into a liability.
That doesn’t mean stop caring about what you do — it means stop expecting your employer to care the same way. Meaning now lives where it always should have: in what you build, learn, and carry home when the shift ends.

This is the world the algorithm built: one where progress means staying perfectly still. Stability has replaced growth, caution has replaced leadership, and every quarterly report is treated like a victory parade.

That’s the tragedy.
What I’ve described isn’t the future anyone wants — but it’s the one many have to accept. A workplace that rewards silence and submission still feels safer than the uncertainty of unemployment. When survival depends on obedience, even the most creative among us learn to fade into the background.

Yet behind every system are still people — and people can change course.
Systems can be redesigned, and people can remember what the machines never learned: how to think beyond the numbers. To observe, report, and execute on ideas birthed on the front lines, not made logical in the cloud. Technology should serve our judgment, not erase it.
You cannot expect a machine confined in a box to think outside of it.