Rufai Ajala was 35 years old and living the dream — sort of. As a director of photography in London's film industry, he'd worked on projects he was proud of, including a short film called 'Mad Bills to Pay' that won an award at the Sundance Film Festival.
But the industry he'd built his life around was crumbling beneath him.
"Film work has definitely been impacted by AI… it's really kicked us down," he says.
The warning signs had been there for a while. AI tools started handling more and more of the visual pipeline — editing, color grading, generating VFX elements. AI could create entire shots from text prompts. Clients started asking for AI-assisted work at lower budgets. The middle tier of film professionals — the people who'd spent years honing their craft — started getting squeezed out.
For Ajala, it reached a breaking point. The work wasn't steady enough. The pay wasn't reliable enough. And looking forward, he could only see things getting worse as AI capabilities continued to improve.
He made the decision to leave the industry entirely.
"I'm not going to rely on film as my main focus," he says. "I don't see it as a career option anymore where you can have stability."
His answer was to train for a career he believed was genuinely AI-proof: plumbing.
The decision wasn't made lightly. Ajala had spent years building his reputation in film. Sundance recognition wasn't just a resume line — it was validation of his creative vision. Walking away from all that to pick up a wrench meant confronting the question: if I'm not a filmmaker, who am I?
But the math didn't lie. Plumbers will always be needed. Pipes leak. Drains clog. Boilers break. These are physical problems that require hands-on expertise in real locations — something AI can't automate away.
"The aim was to find an AI-proof career," he says plainly.
He's now in training, earning significantly less than he did at the peak of his film career. The work is physical and demanding. There's a steep learning curve — different tools, different skills, a different kind of problem-solving.
And yet there's something grounding about it. After years of chasing the next gig, worrying about whether the next job would come through, he's learning a trade where demand is steady and the work is tangible.
Ajala's story is part of a larger pattern across the UK. Morgan Stanley data shows British companies that adopted AI cut their workforces by 8% in the year to October 2025 — more than in Germany, Japan, or Australia.
For workers in creative and knowledge industries, the question isn't whether AI will affect their work — it's already happening. The question is what to do about it. For some, the answer is pivoting entirely to hands-on trades.
Ajala doesn't know yet if he'll go back to film someday. Maybe he'll shoot passion projects on the side. Maybe plumbing will become his whole life. Either way, he's building something that feels solid — something AI can't take away.