During a recent workshop, I asked participants a simple question: “Do you have 10 years of experience, or one year of experience repeated 10 times?”

There was a pause. A few smiles. Some confused looks. It sounded like one of those trick questions that doesn’t quite land immediately. But the more you sit with it, the more it unsettles you. Because it quietly challenges something we rarely question in our professional lives: that time automatically leads to growth.

When Experience Feels Like Expertise

To make it more relatable, I gave them an example. Imagine someone who has driven over 150,000 kilometers. That’s roughly ten years of driving, assuming an average of 15,000 kilometers a year. By any conventional measure, that’s a highly experienced driver. But does that necessarily make them a world-class driver?

Not really.

Because while they have spent countless hours behind the wheel, what were those hours actually like? Most of the time, their mind isn’t fully on driving. They’re thinking about what to make for dinner, navigating traffic out of habit, talking to passengers, or simply zoning out on familiar roads. The act of driving has become automatic. Efficient, yes. But intentional? Not quite.

This is where the illusion begins.

The Trap of Repetition Without Reflection

We often equate repetition with improvement. But in reality, repetition without reflection simply reinforces the same level of skill. The driver is not getting significantly better; they are just getting more comfortable doing the same thing. Over time, that comfort gets mistaken for competence.

This idea is captured well in Bounce by Matthew Syed, where he points out that mere experience, when not paired with deep concentration, does not translate into excellence. It’s a simple statement, but it cuts through a widely accepted myth. Just because we’ve been doing something for a long time does not mean we’ve been getting better at it.

“Mere experience, if it is not matched by deep concentration, does not translate into excellence.”

Matthew Syed, Bounce

A Personal Reality Check

I see this play out in my own life as well. I have been playing futsal with friends for nearly a decade now. It’s something I genuinely enjoy. It’s social, it’s energetic, and it gives me a break from work. But if I’m being honest, I haven’t improved significantly in those ten years. I still make the same kinds of mistakes. My positioning hasn’t evolved much. My decision-making on the field isn’t dramatically sharper.

And the reason is quite simple. I never really tried to improve.

I showed up, played, had fun, and went home. There was no deliberate effort to analyze my game, no focused practice, no intention to push beyond my comfort zone. And that’s perfectly fine in that context, because improvement was never the goal. But in our professional lives, this same pattern can quietly become a problem.

The Silent Shift to Autopilot at Work

In workplaces, this “autopilot mode” is more common than we like to admit. People learn the basics of their role in the first year, gain confidence in the second, and by the third, they settle into a rhythm. The work gets done, expectations are met, and things appear to be functioning smoothly. But beneath that surface, something else is happening. The learning curve begins to flatten.

Years pass, but the depth doesn’t increase proportionately.

You’ll find individuals who have been in roles for eight or ten years, yet approach problems in exactly the same way they did early in their careers. They rely on familiar solutions, avoid feedback that challenges them, and rarely question whether their way of working still holds up in a changing environment. It’s not a lack of capability. It’s a lack of intentional growth.

Why Growth Quietly Slows Down

Part of the reason this happens is structural. Most workplaces reward consistency and reliability. If someone is performing adequately, there is little immediate incentive to disrupt that equilibrium. Over time, “good enough” becomes the standard, and improvement becomes optional rather than necessary.

There’s also a psychological side to it. Growth requires discomfort. It demands that we acknowledge gaps, try new approaches, and risk getting things wrong. Autopilot, on the other hand, feels safe. It allows us to operate within known territory, where mistakes are minimized and confidence remains intact. And slowly, without realizing it, safety starts to take priority over growth.

Doing vs. Improving

But there is an important distinction we need to hold on to. Doing something repeatedly is not the same as improving at it. The two may look similar from the outside, but they are fundamentally different processes. One is about execution. The other is about evolution.

People who genuinely grow in their roles approach their work differently. They remain mentally present even in familiar tasks. They reflect on what worked and what didn’t. They seek feedback not as a formality, but as a tool. They experiment with new ways of thinking and doing, even when the existing way is “working fine.” Their focus is not just on completing the task, but on becoming better at it over time.

The Shift Toward Intentional Growth

This doesn’t require dramatic changes. It starts with small shifts in awareness. Paying closer attention. Asking slightly better questions. Being willing to pause and rethink instead of rushing to repeat.

At some point, this stops being about theory and becomes a personal question. Because the real issue isn’t whether others are on autopilot. It’s whether we are.

In your current role, it’s worth asking yourself: are you still learning something new, or are you just getting faster at what you already know?

Time Will Pass Anyway

It’s not the most comfortable question to sit with. But it’s an important one. Because in a world where change is constant, experience alone is no longer enough. What matters is what we do with that experience.

Time will pass anyway. The real choice is whether it translates into growth, or simply into repetition.