I was never into the whole American dream thing. Even as a kid, something about it felt… off. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it back then. But as I grew up, it became painfully clear: their values, their way of life, their self-image—it just never clicked with me.

A question has been raised about the future of the architect role with the rise of AI. If human-built software (and SaaS, as claimed by Microsoft’s CEO) is going away, what happens to the practice of architecture?

I’m rarely optimistic (the curse of architecture, I guess), but I feel safe.

So there I was, 8 years old, dragged to the shopping center by my dad because, apparently, shopping for socks is a family event. We’re walking through this temple of consumerism when—BAM!—I spot a computer showroom. Not just any computers. MSX/Sakhr machines.

If, after quitting your job, you hear or get notified about your ex-leader doing these :

1. Speaking negatively about your departure
2. Undermining your decision by criticizing you, your new role or company
3. Attempting to make you feel guilty
4. Spreading resentment throughout the organisation
5. Taking the resignation as a personal attack
6. Prioritizing their own interests over those of the team
7. Being absent or unavailable for the team during the transition
8. Spreading gossip about you
9. Delaying or writing vague performance appraisals or recommendations for you
10. Displaying an “it’s all about me” attitude
11. Failing to acknowledge their own mistakes or shortcomings
12. Blaming others for failures or problems within the team

These behaviours scream insecurity, selfishness, and a lack of confidence in building and retaining talent. They crush team morale, erode trust, and send a clear message to the rest of the team: ‘You’re disposable too.’

Back in 2014, I was at a meeting with a prominent French bank about a challenging project. At the time, “low-code” was a fresh concept, and the bank aimed to build its own low-code IDE to let business analysts craft UIs and speed up delivery.

The team already knew each other from previous projects, so introductions were a formality. Our manager introduced everyone: “This elegant lady is the delivery manager, that serious gentleman is the team lead…”
When he got to me, the bank’s IT manager interrupted, winked, and joked, “The guy’s doing nothing!”

We laughed sincerely and moved on.

Imagine, if you will, that building a SaaS application is like constructing the perfect sports car. Sleek, powerful, a marvel of engineering.

I, of course, am Jeremy Clarkson in this scenario — the architect with the vision, the genius behind the wheel. My engineers? Well, they’re supposed to be the pit crew, precision-tuned experts ready to make my dream a reality.

“I hate and categorically refuse quick wins”, I angrily yelled.
The managers in the meeting jumped. They weren’t used to seeing me lose my zen and calm temper so often.

“I have a huge ethical problem with this organisation’s culture of quick wins. We are adding more layers of band-aids before even healing the scares”, I continued.

Being an Architect is like being a conductor¹ in an orchestra. You’re not playing all the instruments, but your job is to make sure everyone is in concert [pun intended] and that the result is harmonious.

I once saw Simon Rattle conducting 6 Berlin school orchestras playing Edvard Grieg’s Peer Gynt Suite. As a matter of fact, they never worked nor rehearsed together before. Their first play was awful and cacophonic, but after multiple corrections and rehearsals, Rattle transformed the final performance into a beautiful and majestical piece.

After a heavy lunch break with a team, Dorian, one (among others) young and competent developer, enthusiastically asked me: “How does someone become an Architect, and what’s the path to follow and what to learn to be one?”

I wasn’t asked this question for the first time, and to be honest, I was never able to answer it properly.