Walt Hampton, J.D.

Creating the Work & Life You LOVE

Crisis and Opportunity

Crisis and Opportunity

The headlines this past week were a bit unsettling.

Job hunters are paying to get recruited.

At first glance, it looks like desperation. Another sign that white-collar work is collapsing under pressure.

But that’s not the real story.

What’s actually happening is that the old deal is breaking.

For decades, professionals were sold a simple promise. Do good work. Build a résumé. Stay loyal. And in return, employers would offer stability, identity, and a future.

That bargain is gone. Not because people failed, but because the system changed.

Algorithms now screen résumés before humans ever see them. Recruiting has been industrialized. Platforms decide who gets visibility. Experienced, capable people are increasingly invisible inside systems that no longer recognize depth.

So yes, people are paying to get recruited.

But what we’re really seeing is the collapse of dependence on employers as a viable long-term strategy.

There’s an old teaching often associated with the Chinese character for crisis. One set of brush strokes points to danger. Another points to opportunity. Whether the etymology is perfect doesn’t matter. The wisdom holds.

This moment contains both.

The danger is obvious. Longer job searches. Less leverage. A growing sense of powerlessness.

The opportunity is quieter, and far more important.

The market is forcing professions to ask a better question. Not “How do I get hired?” but “What do I actually know how to do?”

That question changes everything.

When you step outside the employment frame, experience looks different. Years of work aren’t just credentials. They’re assets. Pattern recognition. Judgment earned under pressure. The ability to steady others and see around corners.

Those things don’t live on résumés. They live in relationships.

This is where AI clarifies rather than threatens.

AI will replace tasks. It will accelerate production. It will commoditize routine work.

What it will not replace is trust. Discernment. Context. Or the quiet authority that comes from having been there before.

That is the work of consultants, coaches, advisors, and guides.

Not influencers. Not gurus. But people who can sit across the table and say, “Here’s what I see. Here’s what I’d do. Here’s how I can help.”

Deep relationships are no longer a bonus in this economy. They are the economy.

Which means this moment, unsettling as it feels, is also an invitation.

An invitation to stop begging broken systems; stop outsourcing your worth; and claim authorship over your own work.

The future doesn’t belong to those who optimize themselves for algorithms.

It belongs to those who know how to work with people, earn trust, and create value in real time.

That’s not bad news.

That’s very good news.

Curious? Email me: [email protected]

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AI Fear

AI Fear

There’s a quiet fear moving through professional life right now.

It doesn’t always show up as panic. More often, it shows up as distraction, overworking, or a low-grade sense of unease. A feeling that something fundamental is shifting and no one’s quite sure where they land in it.

AI has become the symbol of that fear. Not because it’s evil or omnipotent, but because it’s fast, impressive, and everywhere. It writes; summarizes; analyzes; and performs tasks that once required years of training.

So the question lingers. What happens to people in the middle of their careers? And what happens to leaders trying to steady teams while the ground keeps moving?

Years ago, before the current wave of AI anxiety, Cal Newport offered a quiet but important insight in his book Deep Work.

He argued that the most valuable skill in a knowledge economy is the ability to do deep work. The capacity to focus without distraction on complex, demanding problems. To learn hard things. To produce work of real substance and quality.

That capacity, he noted, is increasingly rare. And because it’s rare, it’s increasingly valuable.

AI is excellent at speed. It’s excellent at pattern recognition. It’s excellent at generating plausible output.

What it can’t do is choose meaning. It can’t hold intention, or stay with ambiguity long enough for wisdom to emerge. It can’t decide what matters, why it matters, or when restraint is more important than efficiency.

Those are human acts. And they require depth.

For mid-career professionals, this isn’t a call to compete with machines at what machines do best. It’s an invitation to reclaim what made your work meaningful in the first place. Judgment. Context. Discernment. The ability to see the whole, not just the task.

For leaders, this isn’t about chasing every new tool or calming every fear. It’s about modeling attention. Creating cultures where thinking is valued, not just reacting. Where learning is intentional, not frantic. Where people are trusted to do work that requires care and presence.

The future will reward those who can use powerful tools without being ruled by them. Those who can move fast when needed, but slow down when it matters. Those who can still pay attention in a world designed to fracture it.

AI will change how work gets done. That’s unavoidable.

But depth, judgment, and meaning remain stubbornly human.

And they’re not going out of style.

My Very Favorite Week of the Year

My Very Favorite Week of the Year

This is my very favorite week of the year.

Not because of a holiday or a milestone, but because the gym empties out. The machines are suddenly available. No one is queuing. No loud conversations echoing across the floor. The noise drops away.

What remains are the regulars. The people who were there in November and October and August. The ones who didn’t arrive with fireworks, but with consistency.

All the people who made going to the gym their New Year’s resolution have quietly abandoned ship.

And they’re not alone.

Research shows that most New Year’s resolutions are abandoned by early February. In fact, many fall apart even sooner. Only about 9 percent of people make it all the way through the year.

That number isn’t a character flaw. It’s a design problem.

We’ve been sold the idea that change requires a dramatic starting line. A bold declaration. A clean calendar page that somehow delivers clarity, discipline, and motivation.

But real life doesn’t work that way.

There is nothing magical about January 1. The calendar turning does not create capacity. It does not remove friction. And it does not protect your intentions from the demands of daily life.

Work gets busy. Kids get sick. Energy dips. Motivation fades. And the goal that felt so compelling five weeks ago now feels heavy, unrealistic, or quietly forgotten.

Here’s the truth most people miss.

Every day is an opportunity to begin again.

You don’t need a new year. You need a new moment of choice.

The problem with resolutions is that they are often abstract and aspirational. Get healthier. Grow the business. Write the book. Big ideas with very little structure to support them.

Intentions are different.

Intentions are smaller, more grounded, and far more human. They sound like this: I will walk for twenty minutes three mornings a week. I will protect two hours a week for focused work. I will write badly for thirty minutes, twice a week.

Intentions respect reality. They acknowledge that you have a life, a nervous system, and finite energy.

This is where most people get stuck.

They don’t lack desire. They lack support.

Left on your own, even good intentions get crowded out by urgency, noise, and fatigue. This is why accountability matters. This is why coaching works.

A coach can help you reclaim what you said mattered. Not with shame, but with clarity. They help remove friction, name what’s realistic, and keep you moving when motivation inevitably dips.

So if your New Year’s intentions are already wobbling, good. You’re right on time.

This is the perfect week to begin again. Quietly. Intentionally. With honesty about what your life can actually hold.

And if you want help doing that, let’s talk.

You don’t need another resolution. You need a structure that supports the life you actually want to live.

Need help? Let’s talk. Email me: [email protected]

About That Lie You Tell

About That Lie You Tell

I want to talk with you about that lie that you tell.

ThatLieYouTell

That one you tell all the time.

To yourself; to anyone who will listen.

That soothing lie.

That seductive pernicious one.

The one that goes like this: There’s time.

That there will be time to go on that trip you want to take, that second honeymoon, that book you want to write, the degree you want to get, the art you want to make, that new job, the new career… .

That there will be time to heal the rift, sooth the hurt, fulfill the dream.

That there will be time to connect with your precious boy, your sweet girl, that beautiful grand child.

That there will be time to walk hand in hand on the beach; slow dance in the city square on a summer night; sip the coffee; savor the wine; and watch the sunset.

That there will be time after you get through this quarter, this year; after you’ve made partner; gotten the promotion; after you’ve lost the weight; after the kids are out of high school, or college; or their students loans are paid off; after you’ve finished with the mortgage; after your husband retires; or you retire… .

I want to talk with you about it because 2025 is a distant memory; because you said maybe you’d get to it after the holidays, and it’s the end of January…. because this year will disappear in the rear view mirror as fast as the last.

I want to talk with you about it because tomorrow is promised to no one; because now is all there is; and now is all you have.

I want to talk with you about that lie you tell… because I tell it too.

Life Is What Happens

Life Is What Happens

By the end of January, something familiar happens.

The calendar is no longer fresh. The adrenaline of a new year has worn off. Reality has shown up.

Bills. Emails. Family needs. Client demands. Life, doing what life does.

John Lennon said it simply: Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.

You began the year with real intention: Start the business. Grow the practice. Launch the program. Write the book.

None of it was frivolous. It mattered.

And yet, three weeks in, the weight of competing priorities presses hard. Time fragments. Energy leaks. Focus scatters.

You start wondering if this is just how it goes. Big intentions. Slow fade.

Most people assume the problem is motivation. It usually isn’t.

The real issue is friction.

Friction comes from too many decisions.

Too many open loops, too many demands pulling in different directions.

Friction exhausts even the most disciplined people. Especially capable, conscientious ones.

This is where most goals quietly die.

Not in failure. In fatigue.

A good coach does not hype you up. They steady you.

They help you see what actually matters now. They strip away the nonessential. They keep your head in the game when the novelty wears off.

Most importantly, they help remove friction.

Simplifying choices. Clarifying next steps. Creating structures that support follow through.

Accountability is part of it. But clarity is the real gift.

A clear roadmap and a guide to walk with you along the way.

Progress does not require heroics. It requires alignment.

By late January, the question is no longer “What do I want?” It is “What am I willing to protect?”

Your time. Your attention. Your intention.

If your goals are slipping through the cracks of a full life, you are not broken. You are human.

And you do not have to do this alone.

Need help? Let’s talk. Email me: [email protected]

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