An essay makes the case for anxiety, not anger, about AI
A programmer who also owns a company published this essay on August 24, 2026, responding to two things at once: a post by Sean Goedecke arguing that people should never be angry at work, a view the author says they strongly agree with, and one of the most upvoted comments on the Lobsters discussion of that post. On Goedecke's point, the author adds their own reasoning: anger can be a useful signal, but staying angry at work rarely improves the situation and more often makes life worse for the people around you, most of whom have no more power over the source of the anger than you do. The author says they learned that lesson, though it did not come naturally, along with a related one: a company runs on a shared vision, and if you disagree with it and cannot change it, you should not start a mutiny, 'not even a small-scale one,' because nothing good comes of that.
The Lobsters comment that prompted the essay asked, 'How can you work in tech right now and not be angry?' The author writes that in the context of the thread, the question was clearly also about AI and agents, and that the emotions they would personally expect toward these developments are disorientation and anxiety, not anger.
The author's case rests on a distinction between the two feelings: anger needs a target, while anxiety does not. Given how uncertain AI has made the future, the author argues anxiety is the fitting response: nobody knows what tech professions will turn into, what kind of world the author's own children will enter once they start working, or whether skills built up over years in the industry will still matter. Anger, in contrast, turns that same loss of control into 'a comforting story with a villain,' and the author warns that amid change this disruptive, it is easy to pick the wrong one: even an engineering manager or a leadership team may feel just as uncertain about their own future and be projecting confidence only to cover it.
One outlet for that anger, the author says, is a narrative that is 'pretty pervasive': that if AI produces productivity gains, those gains will go to companies rather than employees. The author adds, 'at least someone at Meta wants that,' without naming who or citing any specific statement. At the same time, the author says plenty of people in leadership positions express doubt about AI themselves: they see a growing share of their own costs funneled directly to large AI labs, and they worry about what happens to their data and whether those labs will step into their space instead of remaining partners.
Instead of anger, the author proposes two alternatives. The first is simply being unsure, since uncertainty can lead to curiosity: even someone who does not find the moment exciting can still find it interesting, given 'access to magic machines' that can be poked at to see what happens. The second is genuine excitement, which the author says brings a feeling of power and freedom. As evidence, the author points out that much of AI's gains are not turning into productivity gains reflected in company profits, but are instead showing up in the number of side projects people ship on their own time, which the author reads as proof that owners and founders do not necessarily know what is coming either. Ownership brings agency, the author writes, but not foresight, and that makes the change disorienting for everyone.
The author describes feeling this contradiction personally: tremendously excited about the technology yet unsure what happens next, uncertain what it will mean to be a programmer in the future and, as the owner of a company, unsure where the 'high ground' will lie once things settle. The author does not dismiss anger altogether: some will profit from how this plays out and many will not, and the author says they worry the industry is 'completely ignoring' the impact on society at large, the climate and the balance of the world as a whole, including a worry about Europe's lack of ambition and growing dependence on other countries. The essay closes by urging anyone who feels anger and is looking for a villain to remain curious instead: curious enough to understand what is changing, excited enough to experiment with it, and only then, from what they learn, to earn the right to decide when resistance is warranted and where to direct it.
Key facts
- The essay responds to Sean Goedecke's post arguing you should never be angry at work and to a highly upvoted Lobsters comment asking how anyone can work in tech right now without being angry.
- The author, a programmer who also owns a company, argues anger needs a target while anxiety does not, making anxiety the more honest response to how uncertain AI has made the future of tech careers.
- The author calls it a 'pretty pervasive' narrative that AI's productivity gains will benefit companies rather than employees, and adds, 'at least someone at Meta wants that,' without naming who.
- The author says many leadership figures privately doubt AI even while projecting confidence, pointing to a growing share of costs funneled to large AI labs and worries about data and competition from those labs.
- The author proposes curiosity and excitement over anger, noting AI's gains show up more in employees' own side projects than in company profits, and separately voices worry about AI's effect on society, climate and Europe's dependence on other countries.
Why it matters
The essay reframes a live debate about AI and anger in tech, sparked by a highly upvoted Lobsters comment, arguing the honest reaction to AI's disruption of tech careers is anxiety, not anger, because anger requires a target and anxiety does not. That reframing matters because, per the author, picking the wrong target is easy right now: even a leadership team publicly projecting confidence about AI may privately be just as uncertain as the people they manage.
Who it affects
Programmers and other tech workers who are unsure whether their skills or roles will still matter as AI reshapes the industry; company leaders and owners, who the author says often doubt AI privately even as they project confidence publicly, and who face a growing share of costs funneled to large AI labs; and, more broadly, anyone in tech deciding where to direct anger or blame as the disruption plays out.
How to use it
The essay offers a personal framework rather than a product or a price. Its practical suggestion: when AI-driven uncertainty feels like anger, treat it as anxiety instead, since anger demands a villain and, amid change this broad, the wrong one is easy to pick. From there, the author recommends moving toward curiosity, then genuine excitement, and reserving anger and active resistance for when they are actually warranted rather than defaulting to them.
How solid is it
This is a first-person opinion essay, not a study: it draws on the author's own experience as a programmer and company owner, on Sean Goedecke's post, and on a highly upvoted Lobsters comment. Goedecke's post is referenced only through the author's own characterization and is not quoted or linked in the text; the Lobsters comment that prompted the essay is quoted verbatim, though the thread itself is not linked and the commenter is unnamed. The claim about leadership's private doubts about AI, and the reference to someone at Meta wanting AI's gains to benefit companies over employees, are the author's own impressions and are not backed by named sources, data, or a cited statement.
Risks and caveats
The essay's central examples are thin on attribution: the 'someone at Meta' reference is unnamed and no specific statement is cited, and the picture of leadership privately doubting AI is the author's impression rather than documented reporting or a survey. The author also leaves a concern explicitly open rather than resolved: that the industry may be overlooking AI's wider effect on society, the climate and the geopolitical balance, including Europe's position.
“How can you work in tech right now and not be angry?”
— an unnamed commenter, one of the most upvoted comments on a Lobsters thread