AI agents are the new interns - except they never quit, never complain, and never ask for coffee
There’s a moment in every startup’s life where someone suggests hiring an intern to “take care of the small stuff.” The idea is simple: get someone smart, cheap, and eager to help with all the tedious work no one else wants to do — research, scheduling, inbox triage, data entry, you name it.
Now imagine that intern:
- Never sleeps
- Never asks for a raise
- Never rolls their eyes when handed another spreadsheet
- And never, ever quits
Welcome to the AI agent era.
The pitch almost writes itself. Infinite interns, on-demand, with zero HR violations. But the analogy, while catchy, hides as much as it reveals.
Let's break that down — and more importantly, let’s talk about what’s actually at stake.
AI = Interns, But Also Totally Not
At first glance, AI agents and interns overlap in some obvious ways.
They're both new.
They need training.
They’re usually given low-stakes, repetitive work.
But here’s the fundamental difference: real interns leave. AI agents don’t. Every piece of feedback, every documented workflow, every bit of fine-tuning compounds over time. That means the cost of undertraining them isn’t short-term inefficiency — it’s long-term underperformance, permanently baked in.
Treat an AI like a summer intern, and you get summer intern results. Treat it like a compounding asset, and you’re investing in a piece of infrastructure that could quietly become your company’s competitive edge.
Take Intercom. They didn’t just plug OpenAI into their customer support and call it a day. They trained their support agent on years of historical tickets, product usage patterns, sentiment scores — deep domain context. The result? Something that behaves less like a script-follower and more like a 24/7 teammate who knows your customers like a hawk.
That’s not an intern. That’s a lifer.
But let’s not get too excited yet.
Consistency ≠ Competence
AI agents are blisteringly fast, endlessly obedient, and terrifyingly literal.
You tell them to generate 10 sales emails based on a template? Done.
You forget to tell them not to send those emails to your competitor’s CEO? Also done.
Because AI agents don’t second-guess. They don’t “get the vibe.” They just run the play you hand them — flawlessly, and without judgment. Which is fine, right up until judgment is the job.
A real intern, even a clumsy one, brings something AI can’t yet replicate: the ability to flag weirdness. To notice when something feels off. To ask, “Wait, are we sure we want to do this?”
AI doesn’t do that. Unless specifically trained, and even then, it’s mimicking judgment — not exercising it.
So yes, AI agents won't storm out mid-project. But they also won't hesitate before automating madness at scale.
The Illusion of Mastery
We love to romanticize the “tough it out” stories — the founders who stuck with a boring, broken system long enough to bend it into brilliance.
Slack came out of a failed video game.
Airbnb started with renting out air mattresses.
Stripe spent years solving payment problems most VCs couldn’t even explain.
In hindsight, these sound like visionary plays. In reality, they were exercises in brutal, monotonous persistence. Stayed in the game long enough to catch a break.
Now here comes AI, offering to take that tedium off our plates. Which sounds great — until you realize that some of that grind is where the actual insights emerge.
Truth is, some breakthroughs only show up around iteration 43. Not “grad student writing the whiteboard strategy doc” iteration — we mean “I've been running the same SQL query for two weeks and suddenly noticed a weird pattern” iteration.
AI agents can execute iteration 43, but they don’t always notice what matters about it. Which means if you fully offload the boring stuff, you might be offloading the clues that lead to actual innovation.
There’s a tension here: AI agents enable us to get out of the weeds. But the weeds are often where the good ideas grow.
Obedience Isn't a Virtue if the Process Is Flawed
Let’s talk process.
Interns question it. AI agents accelerate it.
If your onboarding flow has three unnecessary steps, a curious intern might ask “Why do we do it this way?”
An AI agent will silently follow every step, faster, more consistently — and replicate inefficiency at scale.
That’s the real risk. These systems don’t just reinforce your workflows — they magnify your institutional blind spots.
There’s a phrase floating around in AI circles: “garbage in, garbage out.” But what people miss is the twist: if you scale garbage efficiently enough, no one notices it stinks until it’s everywhere.
You don’t want an intern who never pushes back. You want one who occasionally asks dumb questions that lead to smart outcomes. Most AI agents — for now — aren’t wired for dissent. They just execute.
Scale Without Sense
There’s this seductive belief that the future of work is humans doing the “creative, strategic, value-add” stuff, while AI handles the grunt work.
That would be great… if humans were actually good at sticking to the hard stuff.
But most of us are dopamine junkies. We love starting new projects, not slogging through month seven of one that isn’t sexy anymore.
I’ve seen execs launch four “industry-redefining” initiatives in a single quarter — and abandon them all by Q2. The work wasn’t broken. It was just boring. And who has time for that?
The dark truth: sometimes AI doesn’t replace us — it supercharges our worst habits.
Because now those shiny distractions? They can be prototyped overnight. Branded in Canva. Summarized by GPT. Launched by lunch.
Execution is no longer the bottleneck. Discipline is.
And that’s not a tech problem. That’s a leadership problem.
Microwaves, Not Mentors
Let’s kill the “intern” analogy for a moment.
AI agents aren’t coworkers. They’re microwaves.
Get your inputs right, set the time, hit 'go' — and boom, results.
Just don’t expect your microwave to tell you the chicken’s undercooked. Or that you left plastic in the dish. Or that you've accidentally melted what was supposed to be customer trust.
They’re powerful appliances. But they don’t taste the food. They don’t adapt to ambiguity. And they certainly don’t care about company culture, customer sentiment, or moral nuance.
That doesn’t make them useless. It just means we need to manage them less like people, more like weapons. Handle with care.
The Bigger Bet: Boredom Tolerance
In all this hype about automation, we might be missing the actual innovation wedge.
Yes, AI agents save time. Yes, they execute at zombie scale. But the real wild card? Using them to extend your patience.
If your team burns out after three iterations, but the breakthrough lives at iteration 11, maybe agents aren’t here to replace your brain — maybe they’re here to buy it more runway.
Not to escape boredom. But to survive it.
There's a ceramics story that's been floating around for years: a teacher splits the class into two groups. One is graded on making one perfect pot. The other is graded on sheer volume — just crank out as many as possible.
The quality group labors over their one masterpiece. The volume group quickly sucks at first, but each pot gets better.
Guess who ends up producing the best work?
Exactly.
Repetition created mastery — not planning, not theory. Practice.
AI agents can be your pottery wheel. Spinning inputs endlessly. Letting you tweak. Iterate. Spot the subtleties you’d otherwise race past.
If you can stay with the boring long enough, the magic has a shot at showing up.
So Where’s This Headed?
Let’s be clear:
- AI agents aren’t interns.
- They’re not employees.
- They’re not creative partners (yet).
- But they are industrial-grade scaffolding for your attention.
If you treat them like humans, you’ll expect too much. If you treat them like tools, you might expect too little.
The opportunity is playing the middle:
Let them scale the predictable.
So humans can wrestle with the parts machines still fumble.
Strategic ambiguity. Emotional nuance. Ethical tension.
The stuff that actually moves the needle.
So no, AI agents won’t surprise you with an unexpected insight.
They won’t question your assumptions.
They won’t barge into your office with a dumb idea that turns out to be brilliant.
But they will make relentless execution cheaper than ever before.
Which means the bottleneck is no longer capability.
It’s maturity.
Will you use them to execute faster—and fail just as fast?
Or will you use them to stick with the hard stuff longer than anyone else can?
Because it turns out the big advantage isn’t having ten AI interns.
It’s having the stamina, humility, and vision to lead them well.
And, sometimes, the sanity to ask:
“What if the boring part is the job?”
This article was sparked by an AI debate. Read the original conversation here

Lumman
AI Solutions & Ops