In a world where a Goldman Sachs employee trades spreadsheets for lingerie and opens an OnlyFans account (not sure if the below image is real or AI-generated), one can't help but wonder: is traditional education losing its relevance? Or do people just want easy money? What's with this “I am done with corporate” chatter?
Maybe these shifts - the move to content creation, the mass resignations, the pivot to passion projects - are a protest against a corporate culture that sold us stability but delivered burnout, that promised purpose but handed out PowerPoint decks. Maybe this isn't an exodus, after all.
Two of my connections, after seeing the Goldman Sachs employee's story, jokingly wondered aloud if they, too, should try OnlyFans. And that's what prompted me to write this essay.
The ‘Creator Economy' is everything, everywhere, all at once. What used to be an “alternate route” has now become a superhighway paved with brand deals, viral content, and digital fame. As the saying goes, money makes the man and the mare go. But in 2025, money also makes opinions louder, makes mediocrity trend, and makes sincerity seem suspicious.
'Jiofication' has brought 4G to every corner of India, and with it, there has been an explosion of digital content. Folks with zero exposure to editing software are now producing reel-worthy melodrama. Dolly Chaiwala is serving tea like he's at Coachella. There are pre-teens filming thirst traps in school uniforms.
Instagram has become a bizarre marketplace of half-naked ambition, emotional trauma dressed as engagement, and sometimes, just plain vulgarity. The algorithm doesn't care if your reel is funny, fake, or feral. It simply, simply wants your audience to stop scrolling for a few seconds.
Where Are The 'Achievers'?
The rise of the creator economy has subtly brutalised the psyche of the ‘toppers', the ‘achievers', the ones who did everything right. They followed the rules, got the degrees, ticked the checkboxes, and yet now find themselves sidelined by viral dancers, meme-page moguls, and ex-accountants-turned-influencers selling gut health gummies. Their skills, discipline, and knowledge are barely valued in a world where charisma and content outperform competence. The result is a quiet, rising tide of impostor syndrome, burnout, and identity crisis.
I'm not saying content creation is easy. Far from it. In fact, it's one of the most emotionally taxing, high-pressure, and unstable careers out there, where your self-worth is tied to algorithms, and one bad week of engagement feels like professional failure. You're constantly performing, optimising, and adapting, and yet, there are no real metrics for fulfilment. You're your own boss, sure, but also your own HR, marketing team, editor, copywriter, legal counsel, and punching bag. It demands creativity on tap and vulnerability in bulk, often without boundaries. So no, it's not easy. But what's frustrating is how the world glamorises it without nuance and devalues everything else in the process.
So, do we still need an education to make a living?
Unfair, But Real
The new economy says, “umm, not really”. The old narrative was: go to school, get a degree, get a job, climb the ladder, retire. The new one looks more like: drop out or barely graduate, make reels, build a following, monetise attention, work from anywhere, buy a drone.
My friends are struggling to get jobs. The recession is here and real. One viral reel can earn you more than a master's degree. A meme page can get you brand sponsorships. A Twitter thread can land you a TED Talk. A podcast with a ring light can get you invited to Parliament panels.
The Creator Economy, In Numbers
Let's talk numbers. The global creator economy is projected to be worth over $480 billion by 2027. India alone has over 80 million creators. One in four Gen Z individuals says they want to be influencers when they grow up. Yet only about 5% of creators earn above Rs 50,000 a month.
So, what's everyone else doing?
They're hustling. Posting several times a day. Selling affiliate links. Copying-trending audio. Designing carousels about “10 things I learned in therapy” while suppressing their breakdowns. Because in the creator world, everyone's trying to get rich off attention.
Dolly Chaiwala And A New Aspiration
Meanwhile, the conversation around education remains painfully outdated. Grammarly is being used by ICSE/IB schools. Our children are still learning quadratic equations in a world ruled by Instagram algorithms. We are asking them to memorise facts when AI is generating poems, pitches, and pictures of dinosaurs drinking boba tea. In any case, Gen Z doesn't want to work in ways their parents did. And Gen Alpha… well, what they're learning today might be obsolete by next summer.
Even my house help is trying to create content. She once asked me, “Madam, aap Nagpur se ho na? Dolly Chaiwala ka kya secret hai?” She doesn't fully understand what Dolly is selling. Neither do I. But she knows there's money in clout. Her cousin wants to start a YouTube channel. She asked if a ring light was available on Blinkit.
This is the new aspiration.
Apoorva Makhija, a Gen Z content creator, reportedly earned Rs 41 crore last year through her content. Somewhere, a software engineer with an MBA from IIM is debugging a slide deck and rethinking his life.
So, what is the future of learning then?
If AI can write essays, Canva can design resumes, and 1,29,783+ apps can teach you to edit videos, what exactly are we preparing children for? Are we training them to compete with machines or to collaborate with them? Are we teaching them how to think, how to be kind, how to build something without losing themselves to the dopamine loop of likes?
Education isn't dead (yet). But it's hanging by a thread. We must teach kids how to understand emotional intelligence, how to navigate digital ethics, how to practice financial literacy, how to identify media manipulation, and how to create with conscience. And most importantly, we must teach them how to build offline self-worth in an online-first world.
Until then, influencers will keep influencing, and teachers will keep wondering why no one's paying attention. When the dopamine dries up and the internet moves on to the next absurd thing, we'll need to be prepared. Not everyone can go viral. But everyone deserves the tools to build a life that doesn't collapse when the WiFi does.
Class dismissed.
(Shalaka Kulkarni is an award-winning flash fiction author, TEDx speaker, and global brand storyteller)
Disclaimer: These are the personal opinions of the author
