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Everyone is arguing about AI ROI right now. Boards want a number. Consultants are selling frameworks. And the headlines look brutal: an MIT report claimed 95% of enterprise GenAI pilots showed no measurable return, and a Forbes piece this January says 56% of CEOs see zero ROI from AI. So AI is a bust, right? Here is the thing. Ask any of those same companies to turn off email for a week. Just try it. Nobody ever ran a six month ROI study on email. Nobody had to. It became the way work happens, and the return stopped being a line item because it was everywhere. I think AI is following the same path, and the data backs it up. The gap between the pilot and the person That same MIT report has a stat that got way less coverage than the 95% number: 90% of employees regularly use personal AI tools for work, while only 40% of companies have an official LLM subscription. Workers adopted it at more than twice the rate of their own employers. The report even found that 70% of workers prefer AI over a colleague for quick stuff like drafting emails and basic analysis. So the official pilot fails its KPI review while the people inside the building are quietly using AI multiple times a day. That is not a failed technology. That is a measurement problem. Worth noting: the 95% figure itself has been heavily criticized. It came from 52 interviews and a narrow definition of success. I would not build a strategy on that number in either direction. Why the ROI is invisible The value seems to be landing in the same place email's value landed: the unglamorous middle of the workday. Drafting the reply. Summarizing the thread. Turning messy notes into something you can send. None of that shows up as a new revenue line. It shows up as an hour you got back and immediately spent on something else. You cannot easily measure that, but you can feel it. Take the tools away from a developer who has been using them for a year and watch what happens. People cannot imagine working without it anymore.

Your resume tells people what you’ve done. Your GitHub shows what you’ve built. But your personal website tells people who you are. When I started learning web development, I believed that a good resume and a few GitHub repositories were enough. Like many students, I spent countless hours building projects, solving coding problems, and learning new technologies. Every new project felt like a milestone, yet all of them remained scattered across different platforms. A recruiter would have to open my resume, visit my GitHub, search for my LinkedIn profile, and perhaps never even discover the articles I had written or the experiments I had built. That made me realise something important. Developers need a place on the internet that they truly own. Not another profile. Not another social media account. A place that represents their identity, work, and journey. That’s what a personal website becomes. More Than Just a Portfolio Many people hear the words personal website and immediately think of a portfolio with a few screenshots and a contact form. A great developer website goes much further. It answers questions before anyone has to ask them. Who are you? What technologies do you enjoy working with? What problems have you solved? What kind of developer are you becoming? What have you learned recently? How can someone reach you? Instead of forcing visitors to jump across five different platforms, everything exists in one carefully designed experience. Your Name Deserves a Home Every developer works hard to build projects. Very few work equally hard to build their own identity. When someone searches your name, what should they find? Ideally, the very first result should be something you completely control. A website with your own domain isn’t just another webpage. It’s your digital home. Unlike social platforms, algorithms cannot redesign your identity overnight. You decide what visitors see first. You decide which projects matter. You decide how your story is told. Resume

I've spent my career helping people build software. This is a series of letters about what happens when the tools for building change faster than the principles behind building. Each one is a reminder that while the technology changes quickly, the questions that matter often stay the same. -- Dear past Jenna, The thing that drew you to tech in the first place, that it's always changing, is the thing that will keep you here. Tools change (sometimes for the better and sometimes not) almost weekly. People who never consider themselves technical, much less a developer, will build apps in an afternoon with this new programming language called English. Products will go from idea to deployed before you finish your first cup of coffee (you have a toddler now, so you rarely get the full cup before it goes cold anyways). "I don't know how to code" or "I'm not technical" is no longer a barrier to building. And that's exciting, given you've focused nearly your entire career helping others build software. But we can't confuse the ability to build with the wisdom to build. One of the most valuable habits you've developed over the last two decades is asking a simple question: "Should we build it?" For most of your career, "Can we build it?" was a hard question. Time, budget, complexity, maybe the tech wasn't there yet. But those constraints were usually temporary. With enough people, time, and money, just about anything is possible. But the real questions were always: Should we build this? Is this the best use of our time? Does this solve a problem our customers actually need solved, or does it create new problems? What are we choosing not to build? Those questions haven't changed, but the environment around them has. Today, almost anyone can build software. Between tools like Lovable, Bolt, Replit, Claude Code, Codex, and whatever's next, the barrier to building software is lower than it's ever been. Now the question "Can we build it?" is too easy to answer. It's almost always ye

A practical roadmap for students who want to build real AWS skills, create an impressive portfolio, and prepare for cloud engineering careers. Introduction Every year, thousands of students begin learning AWS. They watch training videos, collect certificates, complete online courses, and share digital badges on social media. Yet when internship interviews or entry-level cloud engineering opportunities arrive, many struggle to answer a simple question: "What have you actually built on AWS?" The cloud industry rewards practical experience, not passive learning. AWS itself focuses beginner learning on hands-on experience with foundational services such as Amazon S3, Amazon EC2, Amazon VPC, Amazon RDS, and cloud security because these services power most real-world cloud environments. If you're a student aiming for a career in Cloud Engineering, DevOps, Site Reliability Engineering (SRE), Solutions Architecture, or Platform Engineering, this article provides a practical roadmap that can help you become job-ready. Why Students Should Learn AWS Cloud computing has become the backbone of modern technology. Companies of every size use cloud platforms to: Host applications Store data Deploy AI workloads Build scalable systems Reduce infrastructure costs Improve reliability As a result, companies continue to hire professionals with cloud skills across software engineering, cybersecurity, DevOps, networking, and data engineering domains. AWS offers dedicated learning paths, hands-on labs, certification tracks, and career-focused programs specifically designed to help learners develop these skills. The key question is not: "Which AWS service should I memorize?" The better question is: "Can I design, deploy, secure, and troubleshoot cloud solutions?" The 5 AWS Projects Every Student Should Build Instead of completing another course, build these five projects. Project 1: Host a Static Website Using Amazon S3 What You'll Learn Cloud Storage Static Website Hosting Bucket Policies O

Every day, the internet quietly convinces us that we're running out of time. A 19-year-old launches...

Something happened in 2026 that should be on every engineer's radar, especially if you work in finance, healthcare, government, or anywhere regulated. The US government labeled an American AI company a national security supply-chain risk. That had never happened before. Whatever you think of the politics, the professional lesson underneath it is big, so let me walk through it plainly. What actually happened The Department of Defense terminated a contract with Anthropic worth an estimated $200 million. The breakdown wasn't about price or performance. It was about how the military could use the AI. Anthropic's CEO, Dario Amodei, objected to a clause that allowed the military "any lawful use" of the model. Anthropic wanted the contract to explicitly rule out things like domestic mass surveillance and autonomous weapons, and refused to sign without those limits. The government wanted fewer restrictions. When talks broke down, the Secretary of War, Pete Hegseth, formally designated Anthropic a "Supply-Chain Risk to National Security." That label is normally reserved for foreign adversaries and hostile telecom vendors, think of how the US treated Huawei. This was the first time it had ever been applied to an American company, and reportedly the first time it was used because a company wouldn't agree to certain contract terms. OpenAI then stepped in to take the Pentagon work Anthropic had walked away from. There's a legal coda worth noting for accuracy. In March 2026, a federal judge granted a preliminary injunction against the government, writing that the designation looked like retaliation for Anthropic drawing public scrutiny, which she framed as a First Amendment problem. So the label is being contested in court, not settled fact. Why this matters beyond the headlines Strip away the politics and this is a case study in something every regulated team deals with: what happens when your AI vendor's policies collide with your requirements. Anthropic drew a hard line on use

DISCLAIMER: This post was written entirely by me! I used AI for a little research, spelling, grammar, and comprehension checks. This post was originally shared on Hackernoon Entertain me for a moment, let's appreciate where we are today by understanding where we've been… or at least, where I've been. I remember when I first learned to code. I was bad, like really bad. But I was so curious! It all started by writing some VBA in an MS Access Database to create an IT Inventory app in the late 90s. Then I learned JavaScript, ASP (without the .Net), then C#, .Net ( I still have my .Net for Dummies book, see below) , jQuery, Python, Java, Angular, ReactJS, and Python again (yeah, had to relearn that one for some reason), and I'm sure there are others in there I forgot about. Learning to write code was rewarding! There were those days I'd spend hours on a bug, only to realize I didn't initialize the variable or forgot a semicolon. I learned .Net over a weekend thanks to the above book. I never became an artist of the craft, like some of my colleagues have (you know who you are: Josh, Kevin, and many others), but I knew how to build anything. I loved that ability: I could build anything. Pure joy! If you haven't had the joy of learning to code, do your best to learn it, because you can't prompt your way to being a Senior Engineer . As I progressed in my career, I became an architect and senior lead. I started off by leading a single engineering team, and now I support large programs and teams. All the while, I never let go of hands-on-code. I still love coding for work and my myriad of side projects. Then, a few years ago, this GenAI thing showed up. Put me in that group of: oh-no-there-goes-my-joy. Joy, yes, not my job. I love my job because I get to do what I love. I loved the dramatic rollercoasters: architecting a perfect solution, realizing it's wrong, getting to write every line of code, chasing impossible bugs, panicking with deadlines, late nights chasing hot fixes,

Why Your WeChat Mini-Program Work Is Actually Relevant US data engineering interviews prioritize hands-on experience with data pipelines, SQL, and scalable storage. WeChat mini-programs, though often seen as front-end tools, generate and process substantial backend data. If you designed the logic behind user actions, session management, or real-time updates, you already have transferable skills. The key is to stop describing the mini-program as a "feature" and start describing it as a "data system." Recruiters don't care about WeChat's UI components; they care about how you moved, transformed, and stored data. The Core Translation: From Mini-Program to Data Engineering When rewriting your resume, map each mini-program task to a standard data engineering function: User interaction logic → Event-driven data pipeline (e.g., Kafka, AWS Kinesis, or custom queues) WeChat cloud functions → Serverless compute (e.g., AWS Lambda, Azure Functions) Database reads/writes via WeChat API → NoSQL or relational database operations (e.g., MongoDB, MySQL, DynamoDB) Session tracking or analytics → ETL pipeline extracting user behavior data into a warehouse Do not use WeChat-specific terms like "wx.request" or "Mini Program SDK" without explaining the data they handled. Replace them with equivalent English terms. A Quick Side-by-Side Translation Table WeChat Term US Data Engineering Equivalent WeChat Cloud Database Managed NoSQL database (like MongoDB Atlas) Mini Program Backend with Cloud Functions Serverless data processing (AWS Lambda) User login & session management Authentication pipeline with token storage Real-time message push Event-driven notification system Reshaping Your Bullet Points: Before and After Generic bullet points kill your chances. Here is a concrete rewrite that turns a typical WeChat mini-program description into a data engineering achievement. Before (Chinese-English hybrid, vague): "Developed a WeChat mini-program for e-commerce with 50k users. Used wx.request

Edinburgh-based tech firm Craneware said customer data was stolen during a cyberattack. The company makes software that thousands of U.S. hospitals, pharmacies, and clinics rely on for billing patients, potentially exposing health data.

It's Monday morning. You open your laptop. Coffee sits beside you. LinkedIn is open in one tab. A job portal is open in another. Your inbox is empty. Before lunch, you've already applied for five jobs. Tomorrow, you'll probably do it all again. This is why people say, "Finding a job is a full-time job." But once you're living it, you realize it isn't just a saying—it's a reality. Unlike a regular job, there's no salary, no weekends off, no annual leave, and no guarantee that today's effort will lead to tomorrow's opportunity. More Than Just Clicking "Apply" From the outside, job hunting looks simple. Upload a resume. Click Apply . Repeat. In reality, every application is a small project. The resume is tailored to match the job description. A cover letter is rewritten. LinkedIn is updated. The company is researched. Interview questions are reviewed. Sometimes a portfolio is improved before clicking Submit . What looks like a two-minute application often takes thirty minutes—or more. Multiply that by dozens of applications, and job hunting quickly becomes a full-time commitment. The Numbers Nobody Sees Fifty applications. Ten automated acknowledgements. Three interview invitations. One final-round rejection. And then... The cycle begins again. Many applications never receive a response. Some positions are filled internally. Others are paused, redefined, or quietly removed. From the candidate's perspective, every unanswered application feels the same—another day without clarity. The system doesn't tell you if you were close. It only tells you if you made it. _ Waiting Becomes Part of the Process After clicking Apply , another phase begins. Waiting becomes part of the routine. Refreshing email. Checking LinkedIn. Looking for missed calls. Hoping today's notification finally brings good news. A rejection can be disappointing. But uncertainty is often harder. At least a rejection provides an answer. Uncertainty leaves people creating their own. The Work Doesn't Stop After

Artificial intelligence is changing the way websites are planned, built, managed, and improved. WordPress developers now have access to tools that can help with coding, content creation, customer support, automation, analytics, and search engine optimization. However, using an AI plugin does not automatically make someone an AI-ready developer. A genuinely AI-ready WordPress developer understands how to combine technical experience, business thinking, automation, and human judgment. The goal is not to add AI everywhere. The goal is to use it where it solves a real problem. AI Should Solve a Clear Business Problem Many businesses make the mistake of choosing an AI tool before deciding what they actually need. A better approach starts with a practical challenge. For example, a company may want to: Respond to customer questions more quickly Organize website enquiries Improve WooCommerce product recommendations Automate repetitive administrative work Connect website forms with a CRM Generate content drafts Analyze customer behaviour Improve internal support processes An experienced developer will first study the workflow, the expected result, the available data, and the possible risks. Only after that should a suitable plugin, API, automation platform, or custom solution be selected. This approach prevents businesses from spending money on features that look impressive but provide little value. AI-Generated Code Still Needs Human Review AI coding tools can produce functions, snippets, plugin ideas, and debugging suggestions within seconds. That speed is useful, especially when a developer is working with repetitive tasks or unfamiliar code. The danger is that AI-generated code may look correct while containing hidden problems. It can include: Outdated WordPress functions Weak security practices Plugin compatibility issues Poor database queries Unnecessary scripts Incorrect assumptions Performance problems That is why generated code should never be added directly to a li

Imagine your AI assistant just produced 200 lines of code. Legally, you may not own a single line of...

24 hours. That's how long a contract lasted before someone pulled it because I was running Windows,...

Try asking this in your next team meeting: "Who on our team is the best at using AI?" There will probably be a moment of silence. Someone thinks of the person who uses the tools the most. Someone thinks of the person who's good with prompts. Someone thinks of whoever recently produced something impressive-looking with AI. But none of these answers feels convincing. There's a gut sense that something is off — and yet nobody knows what the right criterion would be. Nearly every company is standing in front of this wall right now. AI competence is rising to the top of hiring and performance criteria, and there's no yardstick to measure it with. This essay proposes one. The short answer is a set of five axes I call ABCD2. But before that, we need to fix the question itself. The very idea of "good at using AI" is wrong The title of this essay says "good at AI" — but that phrasing is itself the trap. The word "using" carries a hidden frame: AI is a tool, and the person is a user. It puts AI on the same shelf as Excel and Photoshop — something you get skilled at operating. On top of that frame, evaluation naturally becomes a measure of tool proficiency. How many features do you know? How fluently do you operate it? But AI is not a hammer. AI is an engine that judges and executes. It's less like a tool and more like a junior colleague you can delegate work to. And once you think of a junior colleague, the frame flips. Behind every junior who performs well, there is invariably a senior who makes them perform well — someone who explains the context of the work, lays out the criteria for judgment, makes it safe to ask about ambiguities, and verifies the output. That senior isn't "using" the junior. They are making the junior do the work well . AI is exactly the same. The person who truly gets the most out of AI is not the person who is good at using AI, but the person who helps AI do the work well. And what do they help with? Two things, broadly. One is knowledge building — pr

I don’t log in to my LinkedIn account anymore, haven’t done so in years. “AI first this, AI driven that,” alright, alright, I get it! You guys absolutely love AI, and I can’t stand the fact that after almost 5(!!!) years, people still talk about it like it’s the best thing since chicken nuggets. Back when LLMs have started showing somewhat positive results when it came to generating less-than-average code, I came to a devastating conclusion: My friends and colleagues might not actually enjoy coding at all. Maybe they just didn’t enjoy coding the way I do—but either way, I was extremely sad and actively burnt out to find that everybody around me jumped on the prompting bandwagon without giving it much of a critical second thought. I could argue that it was partially because of their employers, but it was definitely because they chose and wanted to. They pressed me “It’s the future, aob2f, we don’t need to write code anymore.” “I just tell Claude to do it, and it’s done.” “I don’t write a single line of code anymore, don’t be left behind.” Some even outrageously claimed “Yeah I reviewed Claude’s 40k lines PR in two days, it was good.” I was baffled. Was I in this sick, absent-minded Truman show spinoff? Were these the same smart, even genius individuals that have built and driven the world’s innovation in the past 30 years with their own hands and minds? It got to a point where I started doubting myself. Maybe it’s really that good? I genuinely gave it a thought. Eventually, I reluctantly gave in and tried vibe coding for the first time… You see, up until then I exclusively used AI as a sophisticated search engine. I asked a technical question—got an answer. More than 50% of the times it was inaccurate or a full-on hallucination, and then I validated the result through trial and error. Admittedly it was better than blindly googling niche bugs and finding nothing but a lonely and vague question from 8 years ago on Stack Overflow. But matter of fact—vibe coding was a mi

Every patient in the public tour of my care platform is a computer science pioneer. Ada Lovelace has a pain score. Alan Turing is due for a check-in. And every one of them has a patient ID no real system could ever issue, an ID that is wrong the way a date in month thirteen is wrong. None of this is an accident. It is the most useful compliance idea I have had this year. A good fake is a liability Here is the problem with realistic demo data. Under HIPAA, nobody can tell a well-made fake from the real thing by looking. A screenshot of a fake patient named John Smith with a plausible ID looks exactly like a screenshot of a real one. So when that image turns up in a deck, or a tweet, or a forwarded email, someone has to prove it is clean. And the only way to prove it is to go back to the database and show the record does not exist. That is an audit. Every plausible fake carries a future audit inside it. So a good fake does not reduce your risk. It just moves it. The better the fake looks, the more it costs to prove it is one. The safety of a fake is not in how real it looks. It is in how obviously fake it is. A plausible fake needs an audit to clear it. An impossible fake clears itself. The fix is to stop making fakes plausible and start making them impossible. A patient named Grace Hopper with an ID that breaks the format on sight cannot be a real record. Anyone can check that from the pixels alone. No lookup, no audit trail, no meeting. Zero pixels The public showcase at clearpathcare.ai contains zero pixels from the production console. Every screen is a React recreation, rebuilt by hand to look like the product without ever touching it. What broke: An early draft of the marketing screens started as console screenshots with seeded test patients: realistic names, realistic IDs. Then I asked one question the images could not answer: prove there is no real record in this frame. I could not. So I deleted every screenshot and rebuilt the screens from scratch. The rebuilt

I remember when coding interviews happened at a whiteboard, no computer, no internet, just a marker and whatever you could hold in your head. When AI tools arrived, using one in an interview was the red flag. Now the red flag is the candidate who doesn't use AI enough. In about two years, the same tool went from forbidden to expected. And it only gets faster. Every few months another wave rolls in, a model out of some lab, a tool that does something it couldn't last year, and it resets what counts as normal. You ride it, or you let it break over you. Plenty of people imagine a third option, waiting on the beach with their arms crossed until the water goes calm, but the water never goes calm, and it was never going to wait for them. all in I've decided to ride it, in the most literal way I have. All of my code is written by AI now (is it mine at this point?), and somewhere along the way I stopped treating that as a threat to be managed and started treating it as leverage to be spent. I know the engineers who went the other way, who made a personality out of dismissing the tools, and the tools got better anyway while they just fell further behind. Going all in wasn't one decision; it's one I make again every few weeks. A better model ships, and I rebuild a working agent on top of it instead of staying on the old version, because the result comes out better and cheaper. Relying on older models would have been easier, and most people do. Riding means doing that over and over, long after the novelty wears off. I get why people stop trying to keep up. The volume is genuinely insane, more launches in a week than you could try in a month, and it isn't only engineers feeling it now, it's anyone whose work runs on a keyboard. People are overwhelmed and often giving up. But you don't have to keep up with everything; you just can't ignore it all. keep the thinking It means handing a lot of work to AI, and I hand over more every month. It writes code, drafts the first version of

Capture the ringleader first. The rest will scatter on their own. — The 36 Stratagems, Capture the...

A few months ago, I was searching for a backend engineering job. Every day looked the same: Open LinkedIn Open Naukri Search for Python jobs Open dozens of tabs Read every job description Apply Repeat The frustrating part wasn't finding jobs. It was finding the right jobs . I kept getting recommendations for roles that technically matched my resume because they contained words like Python , Backend , or API , but after reading the description I'd realize they wanted a completely different skill set. I started wondering: Why are job boards still matching keywords instead of understanding what a developer actually knows? That question eventually turned into a side project called Jobspiq . The Problem Imagine these two jobs: Job A Python FastAPI PostgreSQL Redis Job B Java Spring Boot Oracle Kafka Both are "Backend Engineer" roles. A keyword-based system often treats them as similar. As developers, we know they're not. What I Built Instead of matching keywords, I built a system that compares a developer's profile with a job description to understand how well they actually fit. The platform: Collects jobs from multiple sources. Removes duplicate postings. Scores every job based on how closely it matches your profile. Sends alerts only for high-quality matches. Helps track applications in one place. The goal isn't to show more jobs. It's to show fewer, better ones. What I Learned Building the product taught me something interesting. Writing the software was the easier part. Helping people discover it is much harder. That's why I'm starting to build in public and share what I'm learning along the way. If you've ever built search systems, recommendation engines, or developer tools, I'd love to hear your thoughts. You can check out the project here: https://jobspiq.in Feedback is always welcome.

The government is piloting a program that uses AI for insurance-coverage decisions.