It's All About Lee

I’m talking about the Oracle layoffs—30,000 people deleted from a payroll at 6:00 AM by a corporate noun with no face. But this isn’t just another post about “tough decisions” and “market headwinds.” It’s about the silence that follows when a decade of loyalty is answered with a DocuSign link at dawn.

I talk about the reality of the corporate trenches: the political capital you burn to protect your team, the weekends spent fixing decks for bosses who don’t know your name, and the quiet, uncredited work that keeps the world turning—only to realize that to the people at the top, you are just “bloat” waiting to be purged.

But more than that, I’m looking at the energy in the room when billionaires talk about AI. I’ve noticed a specific, physical kind of glee in their voices—a glow that comes from describing the elimination of human livelihoods like it’s a successful product launch. I contrast the cold inevitability of Oracle with the choice made by Ikea, who turned 8,500 call center workers into a billion-dollar design force, proving that mass unemployment isn’t a technological necessity—it’s a leadership choice.

We’ve handed the keys to our entertainment, our information, and our democracy to a handful of people who prioritize outrage over joy. Now, we’re handing them the very concept of work.

I’m not technophobic; I’m building a company with AI right now. I believe in the tool. But I don’t believe the people sending 6:00 AM termination emails are dreaming of a better world for you. They’re dreaming of a world that is clean, profitable, and entirely unburdened by the “inconvenience” of human beings.

This episode is a question about what we are actually building towards. Because if progress means reaching 30,000 people via email before sunrise to tell them they no longer exist—who is that progress actually for?

I’m talking about Cleared, my second venture: what it is, why I built it, and why I’m not going to dress it up in founder mythology and sell you a story about destiny. I started this company because I’ve seen first-hand what happens when the financial system can’t read you — when you’re earning, working, building, and still somehow invisible to the infrastructure that’s supposed to let you live your life.

But this episode isn’t really about the business. It’s about what it actually feels like to do this a second time. When you know too much to be naive and not enough to feel safe. When two investors pull out over a weekend because of a war starting on the other side of the world. When the doors that were briefly opened to founders like me have quietly closed again — and been repainted to look like they were never there.

I talk about the friends who are overqualified and underpaid, grinding through six-round interview processes for jobs they could’ve managed years ago — and why that takes a kind of courage we never put on a pedestal. I talk about the myth of the brave founder, who the safety net actually belongs to, and why risk tolerance is sometimes just a bank account with a different name.

This isn’t a pitch. It’s not a highlight reel. It’s me, at the intersection of terrified and certain, trying to figure out if those two things can coexist long enough to build something real.

Because if the traditional path no longer guarantees security, and the alternative path never promised it — what exactly are we all working towards?

In this episode, I ask the important questions: do we really need another Batman? Hasn’t Cinderella had enough traumatic shoe fittings? And who exactly demanded a Mean Girls movie of the musical of the movie?

We’re talking about the endless parade of remakes, reboots, sequels, prequels, “gritty” reimaginings, and live-action adaptations that nobody asked for - from The Lion King: Beyoncé Edition to the Harry Potter reboot you didn’t put on your vision board.

Yes, nostalgia sells. Yes, we all keep showing up for it. But at what cost? Are we so busy reliving the past that we’re forgetting to make space for the stories that could define the future?

Plus, I pitch a few upcoming Hollywood hits you’ll be seeing soon:

* Toy Story 12: Andy’s Funeral

* Shrek 5: Donkey’s Divorce

* Jurassic Park: The Pension Years

If the only stories we tell are ones we’ve already heard… how will we ever surprise ourselves again?

In this episode, I’m holding space for one thing and one thing only: wearing your own damn clothes. Yep, that dress you wore to brunch last month? Wear it again. Those jeans that have seen every bottomless mimosa in the city? Wear them again.

Somehow we’ve ended up in a world where repeating an outfit is treated like a scandal. Instagram has tricked us into believing visibility equals expiration. But unless you’re being paid to wear head-to-toe newness every week - baby, wear your f*cking clothes.

This week, I’m thinking about my first job at River Island on Oxford Street — the job that made it possible for me to intern at Vogue for free, survive London, and start building the career I have now. But if I were 16 today… would that job even exist?

I was in Zara the other day, scanning my own items, realising: I didn’t speak to a single person. No one helped me, no one offered advice — it was just me, my card, and the algorithm. It got me thinking about how quickly AI has shifted how we work, how we shop, and how we survive.

This episode isn’t about fear-mongering. It’s about facing what’s already happening. From CEOs cutting jobs in the name of “efficiency” to governments pretending like regulation is someone else’s problem, we’re watching a massive shift unfold — and too many people are acting like it’s still hypothetical.

I talk about universal basic income, why $1,000 a month might sound cute but won’t save you, and how AI can either work for us — or erase the spaces that helped so many of us get our start.

Because if AI is coming for your job, the real question is:What are you going to do if your politicians, CEOs, and safety nets don’t come to your rescue?

Every time an artist speaks out — whether it’s about Gaza, queer rights, racism, or anything that challenges the status quo — the reaction is the same: “Just sing.” “Keep politics out of it.” “Stop ruining the vibes.”

But hasn’t art always been political? From Nina Simone and Muhammad Ali to Madonna, Beyoncé, Colin Kaepernick and Taylor Swift — artists have always used their platforms to say something real. And more often than not, they’ve paid the price for it. But later? Revered. Quoted. Turned into Instagram inspiration.

So what gives?

I’m talking about the myth of neutrality, the privilege of staying silent, and why asking people not to be “political” is often just another way of asking them to protect your comfort. And I get into the recent backlash around Glastonbury being “too woke,” because… since when was Glasto not political?

This one’s for anyone who's ever been told to tone it down, be easier to digest, or just entertain.

Because this is All About Lee — and if comfort comes at the cost of truth…I’d rather make you uncomfortable.

This week, I gave in. I tried to avoid it, I really did — but the Lauren Sánchez and Jeff Bezos wedding content got me. And while watching billionaires kiss on a yacht, I found myself thinking about Marie Antoinette, Julius Caesar, and what happens every single time extreme wealth becomes too visible for the rest of us to ignore.

From Ancient Greece to Silicon Valley, history keeps reminding us: the crown doesn’t stay on forever.

We’re in an era of “let them eat cake.”

Between The Gilded Age returning on HBO and Trump literally bombing Iran, I’m feeling the full-body whiplash of trying to live a normal life while everything around us quietly (and sometimes loudly) falls apart.

From Gaza to AI, from pop culture distractions to the dead silence of so-called progressives, this episode is about the dissonance of being alive right now. The absurdity of flipping between headlines about war crimes and Housewives casting news. The guilt of laughing in one tab while watching suffering in another. The privilege of logging off… and the responsibility of not looking away

In this episode, Lee reflects on the power and resilience of the women in his life - the ones who’ve done the work, set the boundaries, and chosen themselves. From solo home ownership to freezing eggs and attending weddings alone, we explore what it means when women are opting out of traditional partnerships… and what that says about the state of modern masculinity.

Why are so many smart, beautiful, emotionally intelligent women going it alone? Why are men seemingly not stepping up? And what happens when a generation of women refuses to settle for less than they deserve?

It’s giving: liberation over loneliness. Standards over struggle. A reality check… with a side of shade.

There are wildly talented people out here getting zero attention — not because they’re bad at what they do, but because they’re bad at social media. Their work? Flawless. Their grid? Chaos.

Meanwhile, someone with a ring light, a Canva template, and one good soundbite is booked solid.

In this episode, I’m talking about how we’ve started valuing performance over skill, whether social media should actually be taught in schools, and what happens to all the brilliant people who just aren’t built for content creation. Spoiler: the algorithm doesn’t care that you’re excellent — it cares that you’re visible.

And honestly? That’s bleak.