AI Will Not Replace a Great Advisor. It Will Almost Certainly Replace a Good One

And why some clients will need a human in the room more than ever. 

I want to say something that I think a lot of people in my industry are afraid to say out loud.

Artificial intelligence is going to replace a great many financial advisors over the next decade. Probably most of them. The advisors who run a tidy practice doing solid, competent work – gathering documents, building plans in commercial software, rebalancing portfolios on a quarterly schedule, screening for tax-loss harvesting opportunities, drafting client letters that sound like every other client letter – those advisors are in real trouble. Not because they are bad at their jobs. Most of them are quite good. They are in trouble because the things that make them good are the things AI can now do faster, cheaper, and at three in the morning.

I am not predicting this from a distance. I use AI every day in my own practice. Anyone in my industry who tells you the technology is overrated has not actually used it. It is not overrated. It is one of the most consequential tools to come into financial services in my career, and it is improving on a timescale that should make every advisor pay close attention.

So let me be clear about what I am claiming and what I am not. I am not claiming that the human advisor disappears. I am claiming that the bar for being worth what you cost is rising quickly and that the people who used to settle for a good advisor will, before long, get a better version of that good advisor for free, or close to it, from a chatbot. The gap that survives is between the great advisor and the AI. And great is harder to define than most of my colleagues like to admit.

What AI is genuinely good at – and what “good” advisors mostly do

If you sit down and list the actual tasks a competent advisor performs in a typical week, a sobering thing happens. Most of them are tasks AI either already does well or is about to. Pulling in a client’s documents and summarizing what is in them. Comparing two retirement scenarios. Calculating a Roth conversion. Drafting a quarterly letter. Researching a tax law change. Evaluating an annuity contract. Building a cash flow projection. Spotting a missed beneficiary designation.

None of this is glamorous work, but it is most of the work. And it is the work that, until very recently, justified a full time person doing it. That justification is eroding. Software that costs a client $30 a month can now do a credible first pass on most of these tasks, and within a few years it will do a near-final pass. The advisor who built a career on being the diligent middle layer between the client and the financial machinery is being replaced from underneath by a tool that does the diligent middle layer for free.

That is the bad news. Now the good news, which is also the more interesting news.

The clients AI cannot serve well

There is a category of client for whom AI will never fully be enough, and the reason has nothing to do with technology. It has to do with the structure of the problems they are trying to solve. In my experience, three characteristics tend to define this group. Many of the people I work with fit these characteristics. The clients who need a great advisor likely have all three.

First, complicated financial situations. I am not talking about a household with a 401(k), a Roth IRA, and a mortgage. AI handles that beautifully. I am talking about the business owner whose personal balance sheet is wound around an operating company, a holding LLC, a real estate entity, and a buy-sell agreement that has not been updated since the partner left. I am talking about the family that has wealth flowing across two generations, with trusts that were drafted in different decades by different attorneys with different assumptions. I am talking about the executive whose compensation includes restricted stock, performance shares, deferred comp, and a non-qualified plan that interacts with their cash flow in ways that change every year. AI can produce a remarkably good overview of any one of these pieces. Where it struggles is in the connective tissue, the place where the entity structure, the estate plan, the tax exposure, the family dynamics (always the gasoline on the fire!), and the operating reality of a closely held business all touch each other. That is where decisions actually live, and that is where the analysis is messy enough, and the data is incomplete enough, that you need a human who has seen this kind of mess before.

Second, a high regularity of consequential decisions. Some clients live a financial life with very few decision points. They save into their plan, they hold a diversified portfolio, they rebalance on a schedule, they retire on a date, and most of the work is just steady execution. They benefit enormously from a sound plan and a low-cost portfolio, and frankly, AI can carry a lot of that load. But other clients face a steady drumbeat of real decisions. Should I take the buyout offer or hold out for a better one? Do I exercise the options now or wait? Should we sell the second home or keep it? Do we lend to our son’s startup or write a check we cannot ask back for? Do I move the trust to a different state? Do I take the partnership stake? Do I retire in eighteen months or push it three more years? When decisions of this kind arrive every few weeks rather than every few years, you do not need a tool. You need a thinking partner, someone who knows your situation cold, who you trust, who you can call on a Tuesday afternoon and say, here is what I am turning over in my head, what am I missing? That kind of relationship is not something a chat window provides, no matter how clever the chat window gets.

Third, high consequences and costs attached to those decisions. A wrong move on a $40,000 401(k) contribution is forgivable. A wrong move on a $40 million liquidity event is not. A misread on the timing of a Roth conversion can cost a few thousand dollars; a misread on the structure of a business sale can cost seven figures and a strained relationship with a sibling. When the dollar amounts get large enough, or when the decisions become irreversible enough, the value of being right goes up, and the value of being wrong goes up faster. Clients in this position are not paying for information. They are paying for judgment under pressure, and they are paying for someone to share the weight of the decision with them. That is fundamentally a human service. It always has been. AI does not change it. If anything, AI raises the stakes, because the people on the other side of these transactions…the buyer, the IRS, the opposing trustee, the estate attorney…are using AI too, and the playing field at the high end is getting more sophisticated, not less.

What “great” actually means now

I have been thinking a lot about what separates the advisors who will thrive in the next ten years from the ones who will not, and a lot about the clients who will need them. It is not credentials. It is not technical knowledge.  AI is a great equalizer on technical knowledge, and the playing field there is collapsing fast. There is no longer a scarcity premium added to knowledge.  The advisors who will thrive are the ones who do the work AI cannot do, and that work has a specific shape.

It is the work of being a thinking partner before a decision, not just a report generator after one. It is the work of pushing back when a client wants to do something you believe will hurt them, and doing it in a way they can hear. It is the work of holding a conversation across years, remembering what the client said three Christmases ago about their daughter, and connecting it to what is being decided this Tuesday. It is the work of judgment in places where the data is incomplete, the stakes are real, and the answer is not in any model. It is, in a word, presence.  The kind of presence that does not scale, cannot be automated, and is exactly the thing that the right kind of client will pay for as long as I am alive to provide it.

If you are a client of mine reading this, I want you to know I take this seriously. I am using every AI tool I can get my hands on, not to replace what I do for you, but to free up more of my time and attention for the part of the job that actually matters when your number is called. The diligent middle work…the research, the modeling, the document review, the first drafts…should be done faster and cheaper every year. That is good for you. The real work, the conversation that happens when something hard is on the table and you need someone in the room with you, is exactly where I want to be spending more of my time, not less.

And if you are reading this and wondering whether you have the kind of financial life that justifies a great advisor – whether the complexity, the decision velocity, and the stakes really warrant the relationship – that is a fair question to ask. For some people, the honest answer is no. A good chatbot, a target-date fund, and a disciplined savings habit will get them where they are going. For others, the answer is firmly yes, and the cost of being wrong about it is too high to leave to a tool that, however brilliant, has no skin in your game.

Knowing the difference is itself a financial decision. And it might be the most important one you make this year.

 

On Adventure: Lessons from the Edge

Two Walks Off the Well-Marked Path

What a 10,000-mile hiker and a credit card points cosultant have in common – and what it means for the rest of us.

If you had told me, when I started the On Adventure podcast, that two of my favorite recent conversations would be with a long-distance hiker who walked the equivalent of more than four cross-country trips in a single calendar year and a Midwestern dad who built a thriving business around airline points, I would have raised an eyebrow. On paper, they have almost nothing in common. But spend an hour with each of them and you start to hear the same note ringing underneath the very different music.

Madison Blagden and Colin Stroud both did something that scared them. They both stepped off a well-marked path. And they both came back changed – not because of the mileage or the revenue, but because of what those experiences taught them about who they actually are when the safety rails come off. I think there is a lot in their stories that the everyday explorer – and frankly, the everyday investor – can put to work this week.

Madison: Walking 10,000 Miles, Planning Almost None of It

Madison Blagden spent last year on her feet. Through-hiking the Appalachian Trail, the Pacific Crest Trail, and the Continental Divide Trail in a single calendar year is itself an audacious goal – only a handful of people have ever done it. Madison didn’t stop there. She set her bar at over 10,000 miles, walking from Florida to Newfoundland and weaving the three big trails together into a feat that no woman had previously completed. She finished. She also raised the women’s record by a couple thousand miles in the process.

What surprised me most, though, was not the scale of the accomplishment. It was her relationship to planning. Here is someone who built her year around weather windows, snowpack, and resupply logistics – and her advice to anyone considering something hard was, in her words, plan as little as you have to. Whatever you think it will cost, double it and save that much. Then go.

Her reasoning is worth sitting with. So many things will happen that you cannot predict, she said, that the energy you spend trying to control them is energy you will need later for the things you actually have to face. The hikers who do best on a long trail are the ones who can pivot – who do not get emotionally locked into a schedule or a route. The ones who white-knuckle a plan tend to suffer more, finish ragged, or quit. Madison described last year’s mid-season injury as the moment she finally let go of the last bits of control she was still holding. From that point forward, every setback, every weather change, every wrench in the gears became something she just folded into the trip.

If you have ever opened a financial plan and felt the urge to nail every variable to the wall – the exact return, the exact retirement date, the exact tax outcome – Madison’s advice translates directly. A good plan is a flexible one. Whatever you think things will cost, plan for more. Then walk.

Colin: The Quiet Quit That Wasn’t Quiet at All

Colin Stroud’s adventure looks nothing like Madison’s, and that is the point. A few years ago, Colin was sitting in an insurance brokerage in Indiana, watching his wife and two of his brothers-in-law build real audiences on the internet. He was good at his job, but it bored him, and he had been passed over for a promotion he wanted. Around the same time, he had stumbled into the world of credit card points and travel rewards as a way to take his young family on a vacation they otherwise could not afford. He started writing about it on LinkedIn, mostly to see if anyone would care.

They cared. The Washington Post quoted him after one of his earliest posts. People started asking if he would get on the phone for an hour to walk through their points strategy. He charged forty-five dollars. Then a little more. Then more. About fifteen months later, he resigned from his W-2 job and went all in on a one-person consulting practice he calls Go Somewhere. Today he is running consulting calls, building a private community for business owners, and partnering with another points expert to scale a white-glove travel-research service. He does not yet know how big it gets. He does know that nothing in his prior career – the standardized tests, the promotions he did not get, the jobs he was not great at – comes close to what he is feeling right now.

What hooked me in our conversation was Colin’s description of why entrepreneurship lit him up the way it did. It was not the income, though the income matters. It was the daily measurement. Every day he gets feedback on whether he is where he thought he was. Every post, every sales call, every new client tells him something true about his actual capability. He used the word ikigai – that overlap of what you love, what you are good at, and what people will pay you for – and said for the first time in his life, every part of him feels activated at once.

Colin also said something I want every entrepreneur and every parent listening to this to take seriously. He has experienced more dopamine, more excitement, more flow from building this business than from any travel destination he has ever been to. And his family life, while quieter, is the most meaningful thing he does. Travel, in other words, is not the adventure. The adventure is the life he is building around the people he loves. The travel is just a way to bring them with him.

What the Everyday Explorer Can Take Home

Different as they are, Madison and Colin pointed me toward the same three lessons, and I think they apply just as much to the way we manage money and build a life as they do to long trails and online businesses.

The first is that uncertainty is not the enemy. It is the proof that you are doing something real. Madison built her year around variables she could not control. Colin walked away from a paycheck without knowing what would replace it. In both cases, the willingness to live with not-knowing was what unlocked the experience. We tend to treat uncertainty in our financial lives as a thing to be eliminated. It cannot be. The better question is whether your plan can absorb a surprise without breaking – and whether you have left yourself enough margin, financially and emotionally, to keep walking when the weather turns.

The second is that the people who do the most talk about it the least. Madison observed that on trail, the loudest people in the room have usually done the least. The ones with the real accolades sit quietly in the corner. I have seen the same dynamic in money. The truly wealthy people I have worked with rarely tell you anything about it. The ones loudly counting their wins are usually the ones with the most to prove. If you are doing the work, the work will speak. You do not have to.

The third – and this is the one that has stuck with me longest – is that the cliff edge is the whole point. When I asked Madison what she would say to someone standing on the edge of a decision that scared them, her answer was just, do it. Not because every adventure works out. Some do not. But because nobody she has met in the trail community regrets going and finding out it was not for them. The ones with regret are the ones who stayed home. Colin’s version of the same line was that everyone has a hundred-thousand-dollar idea sitting in their Google Drive, and most people will never act on it.

You probably have a version of this too. A trip you have been talking about for five years. A career move you keep telling yourself you will make next year. A conversation you have been avoiding. A plan you have been afraid to commit to on paper. The everyday explorer is the person who, knowing they cannot control the outcome, takes the next step anyway – and trusts that whatever shows up next, they will figure out how to keep walking.

That, more than anything else, is what I keep hearing from the guests on this podcast. And it is the kind of mindset I want for the people I am lucky enough to work with at Ridgeline. A flexible plan. A long view. The honesty to admit you cannot know everything in advance. And the willingness to walk into the unknown anyway, because the alternative – staying parked at the trailhead, indefinitely – is not actually safer. It is just stiller.