Jobs of the Future: Everyone Will Either Be Making Pizza or Delivering It

There was a time—not long ago—when parents told their children, “You can be anything you want to be.”

Doctor. Lawyer. Teacher. Architect.

Now, in our more technologically evolved and spiritually exhausted era, the guidance has become more streamlined:

“You can be anything you want to be… as long as it involves pizza.”

Making it. Delivering it. Possibly designing artisanal toppings with AI assistance. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. The AI will probably do that part too.

We are told—by very serious people in very expensive shoes—that artificial intelligence will transform the labor market. Some say gently. Some say dramatically. And some, like venture capitalist Vinod Khosla, say today’s five-year-olds may never need jobs at all. (Yahoo Finance)

Which is wonderful news for five-year-olds. Less comforting for the rest of us who have already spent decades developing résumés, LinkedIn profiles, and a deep emotional attachment to Microsoft Excel.

Depending on which expert you listen to, AI will either:

A) Eliminate 40% of jobs

B) Eliminate 5% of jobs

C) Eliminate all jobs

D) Create new jobs we can’t yet imagine

E) Quietly reduce your paycheck while smiling at you

All of these are apparently true at the same time.

McKinsey suggests that up to 40% of U.S. jobs could be displaced by AI by 2030. (Tax Project Institute)

Anthropic’s CEO has warned unemployment could rise to 10–20% in just a few years. (The Atlantic)

Meanwhile, other analysts calmly note that perhaps only 5–47% of jobs will be affected. (Forbes)

Which is reassuring. Nothing soothes the soul like a forecast range that spans “minor inconvenience” to “societal collapse.”

But here is where it gets truly delightful.

Even if you keep your job, economists suggest your wages may fall—because AI will be able to do your job cheaper. But don’t worry. The things you buy will also become cheaper, so technically, you’ll feel richer while earning less. (Business Insider)

It’s a bit like being told your house is on fire, but the marshmallows are now discounted.

This brings us to the emerging policy solution of the moment: Universal Basic Income.

The idea is elegant. If AI takes your job, the government—or perhaps a benevolent tech billionaire with a conscience and a yacht—will simply send you money each month.

Problem solved.

In fact, some researchers and policymakers are already treating UBI as a necessary response to widespread AI-driven job loss. (AI Policy Perspectives)

Others have gone further, suggesting we may need thousands of dollars per month just to survive in a post-job economy. (Windows Central)

And here is the truly poetic part: the same AI systems that may eliminate your job can also be used to calculate how much money you should receive for not having one. (Forbes)

Efficiency is a beautiful thing.

Of course, not everyone agrees this will end well. Some economists gently point out that handing out checks does not solve deeper issues—like who owns the machines, who controls the wealth, and why your former job now belongs to a server farm in Nevada. (PubMed Central)

Others remind us that every technological revolution—from the Industrial Revolution onward—caused panic, disruption, and eventually…new jobs. (CapX)

Which is comforting, unless this time is different.

And many very smart people believe it is.

Because this time, the machines are not just replacing muscle. They are replacing thinking.

Writing. Coding. Designing. Diagnosing. Advising.

Even, occasionally, reflecting.

Which brings us back to pizza.

Because when you remove enough complexity from the system—when knowledge work, administrative work, and even creative work begin to evaporate—you are left with two categories of human labor:

Things that must be done in the physical world.

And things we insist on having a human do because it feels nicer.

Enter pizza.

Someone has to make it. (For now.)

Someone has to bring it to your door. (Until the drone arrives.)

It is the perfect metaphor for the future economy: simple, immediate, and just human enough to justify your continued existence.

You may have spent 40 years building expertise, navigating institutions, and becoming—by all traditional definitions—successful.

And yet here we stand, on the edge of an economy where your grandchildren may ask:

“Grandma, what was a project manager?”

And you will smile gently and say, “Something the robots used to need help with.”

Now, before we all descend into existential despair—or open a franchise—we should pause.

Because beneath the satire is something very real.

We are in the early stages of a transformation that is not fully understood, not fully modeled, and certainly not fully governed.

The outcomes range from abundance to instability. From leisure to inequality. From liberation to…well, pizza delivery.

And like all great transitions, the future will not arrive evenly.

Some will thrive.

Some will adapt.

Some will struggle to find their place in a world that no longer needs what they once offered.

Which is why this moment matters.

Not just economically—but morally.

Who benefits?

Who is protected?

Who is left behind?

These are not questions AI will answer for us.

Those are still, for now, human decisions.

So yes, perhaps one day everything will be cheaper.

Perhaps we will all receive a monthly check.

Perhaps work as we know it will fade into something softer, stranger, and less necessary.

Or perhaps we will simply find new ways to stay busy, feel useful, and argue about politics on the internet.

But until then, I suggest we all keep our options open.

Learn something new. Stay curious. And if all else fails…

Perfect your pizza recipe.

Because in the jobs of the future, it appears we all may be working in the same department.

If this resonated—or at least made you laugh while quietly questioning the economic future of humanity—please share it with someone who is also wondering what comes next.

And if you’d like more reflections like this, grounded in reality but not entirely crushed by it, subscribe to my newsletter at julies-journal.ghost.io.

Let’s navigate whatever this becomes—together.

Julie Bolejack, MBA

Mindful Activist