The Job That Loses Its Name
In the past, one word was enough: lawyer, engineer, doctor, entrepreneur, architect. A profession was clearly defined, codified, and easy to explain; it was a role, a recognizable social form. Today, that word is no longer sufficient—and in some cases, it no longer exists. Back then, simply uttering a professional title such as lawyer, engineer, doctor, entrepreneur, or architect was enough to outline a clear identity and a well-defined life path. A job wasn’t just an occupation; it was a status, shaped and legitimized by society, easy to describe and instantly recognizable. It was a role that conferred belonging and mutual understanding.
Today, that single word can no longer capture the complexity of the working world. In many cases, the profession as we once knew it no longer exists—replaced by hybrids, extreme specializations, or emerging roles that defy traditional classification. Career paths are less linear, and the required skillsets are in constant flux, rendering obsolete the very notion of a static and unchanging profession. The fluidity of the labor market and the acceleration of technology have birthed new professional identities that lack counterparts in the terminology of the past, creating a lexical void that mirrors a profound social and cultural transformation. Those who now work in consultancy, digital industries, alternative finance, innovation management, AI, or sustainability often present themselves with fluid bios, hybrid roles, and multi-platform identities: one day as a project leader, the next as a fractional executive, then an advisor, then a founder, a coach—and sometimes none of these at all.
We are living in the era of liquid work, intermittent roles, and specialist nomadism. Today’s professional landscape has radically shifted, compelling those in cutting-edge sectors to constantly redefine their work identities. It’s not uncommon to encounter professionals with fluid careers, hybrid functions, and multi-channel roles—people who comfortably transition between assignments, titles, and narratives. One day, they are a project leader; the next, a fractional executive; then an advisor, a founder, or a coach—only to be none of these at a given moment, but rather the dynamic sum of all these experiences. This is the age of liquid work: a time in which intermittent roles and specialist nomadism are no longer exceptions but defining features of a successful career. In this context, adaptability, lifelong learning, and cross-functional skills become essential for navigating a job market in constant motion—where deep specialization must blend with versatility and flexibility. Today’s professionals are the architects of their own careers, continuously building and deconstructing roles and identities to respond to the evolving needs of a hyper-connected and rapidly changing world.
The transformation is profound and goes far beyond LinkedIn titles. It is a crisis of recognition, language, and positioning. Many professionals today create value, generate impact, and operate with competence—but no longer know how to define themselves. As a result, the market—investors, clients, partners—struggles to understand them, leading to a significant risk: that work may lose its shape, structure, and perceived value. In a world of high complexity—where intelligence, method, and vision are the assets being sold—recognizability is everything. If the market doesn't understand who you are, it cannot choose to work with you—or worse, it may confuse you with something interchangeable, replicable, or automatable.
The solution cannot be purely “communicative.” It’s not enough to post more often, update your title, or become a content creator to establish a solid identity. What’s needed is a profound process of professional construction—one that integrates real skills (not just nominal ones), coherent language, visible projects, sound legal, fiscal, and corporate tools, as well as strategic positioning in relation to AI, automation, and new markets.
In other words, we must return to the craft—not out of nostalgia, but as a conscious choice of form and positioning.
