The five-year plan is dead. The questions haven't caught up.
On the question that outlived the thing it was built to measure.
Hi, I’m Katie! Welcome to The Multiple Lives Theory. This is a space for anyone rewriting the rules of modern work, embracing a nonlinear career, and actively designing a life of creative freedom outside the standard 9-5 ladder.
“Where do you see yourself in five years?”
I used to have an answer for this.
I don’t anymore, and for a long time I thought that was the problem. It wasn’t. The question was.
I was in an interview about eighteen months ago for a role I genuinely wanted. The interviewer asked it kindly, almost casually, the way people do when they expect the usual answer.
And I felt a very specific kind of blankness. Not because I didn’t know the answer. Because the answer I used to give no longer existed.
I gave a version of an answer. It wasn’t a lie…but it also wasn’t true.
The plan everyone was handed
Somewhere back in a career-guidance session or a first performance review, most of us were handed the same IDP tool: pick a fixed point five years out, then work backwards to today. Title, salary band, maybe a city and professional development goals in between. It’s a clean piece of engineering, a destination and a route. For a long stretch of the twentieth century it also matched how careers actually worked: one ladder, one industry, promotions on a predictable clock. The tool fit the terrain.
The terrain that changed under it
The terrain doesn’t look like that anymore, for almost anyone I know. Roles get created and dissolved inside eighteen months. Whole job categories didn’t exist five years ago and won’t exist, in their current form, five years from now.
I’ve had four distinct working identities in the time it would’ve taken to walk one five-year plan to completion, and not one of them was visible from where I started. The fixed point stopped being reachable, not because I failed to hit it, but because the ground itself kept moving underneath the mark.
The plan vs the range
Here’s the distinction I’ve landed on, and it’s the only version of the question I can answer honestly anymore. The plan is a single fixed point, named once, that you hold yourself accountable to hitting. The range is a direction — a rough bearing you keep checking and re-setting, usually on a much shorter cycle than five years.
A plan says: this exact spot, by this exact date. A range says: broadly this way, and I’ll tell you more precisely in six months once I can actually see further.
One is a promise. The other is a practice.
Think about how you’d navigate somewhere you’d never been. You used to buy the paper map before you left, trace the whole route, and commit to it — wrong turn or not, you were locked in until you pulled over and started again from scratch. Now you type in a destination and the thing recalculates every time you miss a turn, using information you couldn’t have had when you started. Nobody thinks the GPS has failed because it revised the route. We’d think it had failed if it hadn’t.
Why the question survives anyway
The five-year-plan question is still everywhere — job interviews, family dinners, the awkward pause at a reunion — because it’s easy to ask and it produces a tidy answer, whether or not the tidy answer is real. The range is a genuinely harder thing to say out loud to someone who wants a title and a number. It requires the asker to sit with more uncertainty than the question was built to hold. So we keep asking the old question and getting old-shaped answers back, and nobody updates the form, because updating it would mean admitting the terrain moved.
I’ve stopped trying to answer the fixed-point version, and started tracking a shorter, truer one instead:
What are you paying attention to right now, not what will you have accomplished. Attention is the leading indicator. Achievement is the lagging one, and it lags by years.
What did the last six months actually teach you about the direction, not the last five years’ plan. The range updates on a six-month clock. Five years is too slow an interval to be useful information.
Where did you correct course without noticing you had. The corrections are usually more honest than the original plan ever was.
What would you say no to now that you’d have said yes to two years ago. That’s the bearing shifting, in real time, more reliably than any stated goal.
What’s the thing you’re moving toward without being able to name the destination yet. You don’t need the name. You need the direction to be true.
The honest version
I still don’t have an answer to where I’ll be in five years, and I’ve stopped treating that as a gap in my planning. What I have is a direction I trust more than I trust any fixed point I could name today, built from six-month corrections and not a single decision made once and defended for half a decade.
I don’t know if that’s a better answer. I know it’s the true one, and for now, that’s the only version I’m willing to give.
— Katie
I’m curious, what's the question people keep asking that no longer fits the life you're living?
More from Multiple Lives Theory:
→ The reinvention story we’re not telling — on why moving comes before clarity
→ You’ve been measuring yourself on the wrong clock — on trading someone else’s timeline for
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Multiple Lives Theory is a weekly essay on nonlinear careers, reinvention and the emotional reality of changing your life.





Agree completely. The goalposts are now much closer. Systems not goals is our new mantra (courtesy of Atomic Habits). We are planning on a rolling one year horizon with a one-thing mentality. What can we get done in one year that will move the needle?
The direction I’d stay true to is to remain relevant in my field. Things and technology turn on a dime and keeping up requires homework I don’t have time to fit into my life outside of work. So I make it up by training on the clock. It should be looked at as an employer’s investment in providing resources that many may not know exist, so I pay it forward by taking the courses and letting others know this content is great and helps you remain valuable.
This was a great read and I’ll pay it forward by sharing.