Notes · AI · point of view
Why I won't sell you an AI strategy
October 2026 · 3 min read
"AI strategy" has become the most expensive deck in the building. Somebody pays four figures per slide to hear that the future will be intelligent — and six months later, nothing in the company works differently. The strategy didn't fail because it was wrong. It failed because it never touched anything.
I help you ship AI and technology tools. That's a different trade, and it starts with smaller, more uncomfortable questions: which decision does this tool change? Who uses it on Monday? What number proves it worked?
A natural-language assistant your merchants actually use is worth more than any roadmap. I've watched one open a data platform to 1,000+ merchants after years in which the only way in was an analyst with SQL and spare time. No keynote preceded it. A workflow ate real hours; a tool did the workflow; the number moved.
There's a second reason I don't sell strategies, and it matters more: independence. Transformation programs reward the people who run them — partner targets, vendor commissions, renewal incentives that quietly decide what gets recommended. I have none of that. Nobody pays me to say yes, which is what keeps the view fresh — and sometimes the most valuable thing I can tell a client is that the AI project they're proudest of shouldn't be built at all. You can't buy that advice from someone whose revenue depends on the build.
The pattern I trust is boring on purpose:
Pick one workflow that eats real hours. Scope a tool that does it in weeks, not quarters. Deploy it inside your own environment — your data stays yours. Measure against a baseline we agree at kickoff, not a promise from a proposal. If it doesn't reach your team, it doesn't count — which is exactly why I won't sell the strategy without the tool.
There's a test you can run on anyone selling you AI, including me: ask what ships in ninety days, and for whom. Vague answers are the deliverable. Mine isn't.
If that sounds like the conversation you need, skip the deck: twenty-five minutes, bring your messiest workflow — I'll tell you what I'd build first, and what I'd tell you not to build at all.
Bring the messiest workflow you have.
Twenty-five minutes on a call — or breakfast in Porto or Minho.