Here is a paradox: a graduate from world-class university struggles with one skill – how to learn. Not calculus, not corporate strategy, but learning itself.
Tomas holds two degrees from one of the most prestigious universities in the world. He worked for a famous strategy consulting firm before joining a multinational corporation. He is driven, intelligent, and respected by colleagues at every level. Now a senior executive, Tomas has an impeccable CV that most would envy.
How could someone considered the elite of the elite not know how to learn?
The problem surfaced when Tomas began exploring alternative careers. Having climbed the corporate ladder, he found opportunities limited—especially ones that fit his family’s needs and personal preferences. The rise of AI intensified his urgency. Tomas hired a coach to help discover his life purpose and navigate the transition.
Yet after many sessions, he remained stuck. He could not answer basic questions: “What do you deeply desire?” “What are your talents?” “What kind of life do you wish?” He had never considered these questions. Tomas was accustomed to designing corporate strategies and making multi-million dollar decisions by analyzing costs and profits, replying on facts and data. He is not used to this kind of abstract introspection.
This reveals a deeper truth: Tomas mastered being taught, but not learning—especially about himself.
With AI becoming inevitable, logic and data alone no longer guarantee advantage. The skills that built his career will not build his future. The new era demands something different: imagination, intuition, creativity and the courage to question not just the market, but ourselves.
This is not entirely Tomas’s fault. He is the product of an outdated education system and corporate culture that rewarded right answers and company objectives. In school, he earned high grades by delivering the right answers. In the workplace, he was trained as a task master to achieve company’s objectives. His competence was proven with rapid promotions. But his personal desires and transferable talents? Nobody asked, and he never learned to ask himself.
What Tomas lacks is not intelligence or hard work. He lacks curiosity and the ability to expand beyond his comfort zone—the essence of personal growth and self-leadership. Throughout his career, he focused on building a perfect CV. He once dreamed of retiring from the same company or at least from the same industry, following the path the system laid out. He became the perfect passenger on a large, comfortable cruise ship instead of the captain of his own vessel.
For instance, since leaving school, he had not picked up a book for the sheer joy of learning. Reading was for students; exams were over. Now, stepping outside his corporate environment, he faces a vast territory of “unknown unknowns”—things he doesn’t even know he needs to know. Now standing at a crossroads, he has no map. He never learned to read one.
When we stand at such a crossroads, where do we begin? We start by learning to navigate. This means studying maps others have drawn—books, mentors, lives of those who came before, then draw our own. Philosophers and leaders have wrestled with these questions for centuries. Their wisdom is available to anyone willing to learn—not for exams, but for joy, for insight, for the sheer expansion of what we know we do not know.
We must also come to know our own vessel. Tomas could describe his company’s capabilities but almost nothing of his own. What are his true talents—not those his job required, but those that emerge when no one watches? What does he actually want, not what was he trained to want? Without this knowledge, we drift. With it, we begin to choose direction.
The journey also demands constant course correction. The unexamined voyage is not worth taking. We must regularly check: Are we still heading where we intended? Have our waters changed? Are our actions aligned with our values? Only through reflection do we live with new insight. Otherwise, we risk repeating the same year for decades.
Finally, we must remember we are not bolts in a big machine. If school taught us disjointed skills and knowledge, it is our responsibility to integrate them. As the captain of our own ship, we have to learn to see the direction, the big picture and how the pieces of life fit together.
The answers to these exercises cannot be found on a spreadsheet. They cannot be optimized or delegated. They can only be discovered, slowly, imperfectly, by someone willing to sit with the discomfort of not knowing. That is the learning Tomas missed. That is the learning waiting for all of us.
Tomas’s journey from elite executive to uncertain explorer is the journey of our time. In a world where AI masters logic and data, the human advantage shifts to something deeper: curiosity, self-awareness, and the courage to steer our own course. The end of logic as our primary advantage is not a crisis but an invitation—to rediscover the capacities that make us human.
The map was never handed to us. It is ours to draw.