Andrew Ambrosino on why Codex and ChatGPT are merging and why AI has flipped product work

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Overview

Andrew Ambrosino leads product and engineering for the Codex desktop app at OpenAI. Their background spans design, engineering, product management, and founding companies. In this conversation with Lenny Rachitsky, the central question is how AI is changing product work now that anyone can build anything. Ambrosino's answer is that the product process has been turned upside down. Implementation used to be the expensive step. The scarce thing now is judgment about what to build and how to shape it, which Ambrosino, a little reluctantly, calls taste.

30 min read

Ambrosino also warns against the more extreme conclusions people draw from this. They argue that PRDs are not dead, that the design process has not simply disappeared, and that eliminating roles is a mistake. They also explain how Codex grew from a developer tool into something OpenAI employees across every function use, and why that led the company to fold Codex and ChatGPT together.

For scale, Lenny cites these figures in the introduction: Codex usage has grown sixfold since January, it has over 5 million weekly active users, and nearly all OpenAI employees use it weekly, not only engineers. Ambrosino has publicly stated the goal of making Codex "the best desktop app that has ever existed." They explain that the quality bar has to be high enough that people never hesitate to open it for the next task, the way people reflexively open a browser tab.

3:17

The inverted product process

Ambrosino says the hardest part of leading product teams right now is that the process has inverted. With current models, from OpenAI or anyone else, they believe anyone starting from scratch can stand up whatever feature they want. Everyone at OpenAI has effectively unlimited tokens, and Ambrosino describes the staff as very agentic with lots of ideas, so everyone is building everything.

Traditional product process worked the other way. Even after teams moved past waterfall, the process assumed implementation was expensive. Teams de-risked everything up front through documents, research, and prototypes, because designs and prototypes were cheaper than real code. That assumption no longer holds. Ambrosino guesses that for one feature the team badly needs, there are probably "90 different uncoordinated" efforts implementing and trying it.

Ambrosino stresses that people are not doing fundamentally different jobs, and that skill sets and roles have not vanished. The order of the work has reversed. Once implementation is cheap, the costly part is curation. Out of 90 attempts, what is good about each one? What should be folded into something else? How should the idea be framed? Should it belong to another feature? How many segments should a toggle have?

6:39

Documents vs. prototypes: choosing the medium

Lenny summarizes the shift as "people used to write docs, now they build prototypes." Ambrosino pushes back. They have seen many product leaders declare that PRDs are dead and prototypes are in, and they don't believe it.

Their reasoning is that cheap implementation creates a temptation in both directions. Non-engineers, especially people who never had the time or interest to code, are tempted to skip straight to a prototype and say, "Let me just show you what I mean." Engineers, Ambrosino has noticed, are tempted to produce large numbers of documents "that are not worth reading." Their point is not that documents are bad. When implementation is abundant, you have to pick the right format for the point you are making. If the goal is product clarity in a vague area, a document may be best. If the goal is to put an interaction pattern in people's hands and stress-test it, a prototype is better.

Lenny connects this to a concept a previous guest shared, the "primal mark": the first mark an artist makes shapes everything that follows. A prototype made too early can anchor everyone to the wrong idea. Ambrosino agrees and adds a second problem. In the old world, the medium itself signaled where an idea was in the process. Anything that looked like the production app must be late-stage, meaning assumptions had been de-risked, design had reviewed it, and it served a real business goal. That signal existed because resources for building were only granted after de-risking. Now the link is broken. An exploration can look production-ready while having the wrong model of where research is going, what users want, or what the business needs. So teams have to say explicitly what stage a thing is at, whatever form it takes.

10:32

What "taste" actually means

Asked what good taste looks like in practice, Ambrosino cites a recent tweet from Linear's head of product (they weren't sure of the attribution). The tweet argued that people overemphasize the aesthetic side of taste, and used Paul Graham as an example of someone with clearly great taste who wears cargo shorts.

For Ambrosino, taste includes all of the following:

  • Aesthetics. For example, noticing that an interaction animation doesn't match its semantic meaning because it is "too snappy for what it's actually trying to convey." They admit they probably focus on this too much.
  • Systems thinking. How the piece fits into the larger system.
  • Direction. Where the product is heading and which theme a piece belongs to.
  • Presentation. How the work is framed and communicated.

They see the real taste question as the broader one: if we can build anything, what should this be, what is the goal, and how do we get there? Knowing what to work on, how to present it, and which medium to use is, in their view, becoming the most important skill in every field.

12:08

Why AI is still weak at design

Lenny notes that AI output is rarely great design, and people can usually tell "Claude design" or "Codex design" at a glance. Ambrosino, making clear they don't work in research and might "get yelled at," offers practical reasons and harder ones.

The practical reasons are these. First, design is harder to grade than code. Code can be checked by whether it compiles and does what it should. Building a loop that teaches a model what good design is requires human taste as part of the feedback mechanism, which is more tedious and onerous. Second, labs historically invest in capabilities that accelerate AI research. In the early era of coding models, it was obvious that writing correct code would speed up research. The same case is hard to make for design. Ambrosino expects these practical obstacles to go away and models to get "pretty good at design."

The harder problems are murkier. One is culture and novelty. Ambrosino recalls a period, probably last year, when every new website seemed to copy Linear's. A model producing Linear's site would have looked impressive once, but a model that outputs Linear's website every time is not solving the real challenge. In software engineering you almost want the model to lean on known patterns. In design, randomness and novelty matter.

The other is the abstraction layer between design and code. Having written and supervised much of the early Codex app's code, Ambrosino describes design decisions that live in the codebase: this element in one corner should share X, Y, and Z with that element elsewhere. Their example is a company rebrand. The shallow version is updating 263 components one by one. The deep version is understanding the shared semantics between things that look different but are both lists conveying the same interaction pattern. That layer, they say, still feels out of reach for current technology.

Lenny adds that the Codex app itself was a new paradigm, neither a terminal nor an IDE but a chat interface that codes and shows you the code. He suggests that inventing something like that is where human creativity still matters. Ambrosino agrees, "for now."

17:02

Is the design process dead?

Lenny brings up Jenny Wen, head of design for Claude, who argued on the podcast that the design process is dead. Ambrosino says they probably agree on a lot, and that they weren't a fan of the formal design process even before AI. From their time running a startup and hiring designers, they recall a snarky article about "the case study factory." It criticized designers being trained to value the process above outcomes, on the assumption that anything that went through research, divergence, and convergence was guaranteed to be good, even if nobody liked or used it.

Ambrosino notes that the process has always assumed implementation is expensive and you can only afford to build once, so you must exhaust the problem and solution space first. Tools like Figma and Origami let teams pull interactive prototypes earlier to get insights sooner. That was real, even if it became a meme about executives asking for a prototype and expecting it to work. Now all of implementation can be pulled into that early stage. The result is a mismatch: people see a fully polished prototype and ask, "Can we release this now?" In fact, it is still early-stage exploration, and nobody is saying so.

So Ambrosino says "the design process is dead" is both true and false. Designers have more tools than before. They can put ideas into the live product and A/B test them. Many companies, OpenAI included, now keep a "baby" version of the product, which Ambrosino calls "baby Codex." It is a dramatically simplified codebase that approximates the production app's interactions, so it is fast to vibe-code over: what if the sidebar worked like this, what if a pane opened with a group chat? If you are attached to the specific day-to-day tools of the old process, Ambrosino says, it is dead and you won't have a good time. But the overlay of the process, knowing and stating where you are in it, matters more than ever.

21:17

Role collapse on the Codex team, and its limits

Asked whether design reports to them, Ambrosino jokes that it "depends on the week." The teams sit together and work closely. They say the Codex org has seen more role collapse than other parts of the company or the economy. They attribute this to Codex being a technical product for engineers: the designers "speak engineer," product managers write code, and Alexander Embiricos, the Codex product lead, has a master's in computer science, which Ambrosino notes they themselves do not.

Ambrosino describes each person as defined less by fences between disciplines and more by the "average" of where they work. A designer does plenty of coding and product work, but on average their dots cluster in design. The process is also shaped by dogfooding. The team tries to do as much as possible inside the app even when it isn't the best tool, so that it becomes the best tool. They often deliberately don't improve their own process so they feel the product's gaps. Ambrosino calls this "a deeply uncomfortable place to be."

Lenny asks whether "member of technical staff" titles point to a future where everyone is simply a builder. Ambrosino notes that this title tradition comes from research-focused companies and likely predates OpenAI (they mention Xerox). They then state a concern: eliminating roles can eliminate the idea that disciplines are specialties with knowable best practices. They have heard of companies getting rid of the product role, which they call "a terrible idea." In those cases, a discipline with real best practices, real processes, and a history of real failures gets abandoned because people think, "Oh, I wrote some code."

They welcome losing the "this isn't your lane" boundary, but they argue that not everyone can work on everything in either breadth or depth, which is why managers won't go away. They also say engineers are often guilty of assuming engineering is a skill while other roles are "just people vibing." Their example: you can use Excel, but that doesn't mean you can work on the finance team.

What is changing, in their view, is that switching roles and learning a role's best practices have become easier, and effectiveness is less tied to mastering a specific tool. They say they spent a long time feeling they shouldn't be a software engineer because they didn't care about assembly or memorizing TypeScript syntax. That kind of tool-based gatekeeping is what's eroding. Beyond that, they think people hyperbolize.

27:34

Team shape and "zone defense"

Asked how big the Codex team is, Ambrosino gives their usual answer: "somewhere between 10 and a few thousand." They mean it seriously. Everything at OpenAI, including model research, computer and browser use, model personality, and front-end infrastructure, feeds into this product. Still, they don't accept PRs from thousands of people on whatever they want. The desktop team has double-digit engineers, about half that many designers, and a few product people. Common traits are agency and taste. Many are former founders or people who did "founder-shaped" work at larger companies. OpenAI lets teams grow large, and they are mostly ICs.

Ambrosino and Embiricos use a "zone defense" analogy for product managers. If two product people are working too closely, that is usually a bad sign. The PMs spread out like a force-directed layout, looking for gaps. With chaotic idea generation everywhere and year-long top-down plans no longer working, taste-makers need to guide ideas from inception to what the product should be, which requires coverage across the whole area. They also want to hire product-minded engineers, so that a flood of code doesn't need full-team review for product coherence.

Lenny describes the most valuable person now as someone with high agency and high taste who can shepherd an idea from start to finish. Ambrosino agrees and links it to IC versus management. Management isn't going away, but everyone is now both. An IC no longer types code character by character. They manage agents and work streams, while managers do the same thing at a coarser granularity. Beyond command of their discipline, Ambrosino looks for the taste to separate signal from noise when tokens are unlimited and "we can't just be doing slop."

31:50

Planning when the models keep changing

Ambrosino says people are frustrated with them about planning all the time, and that the team does nothing revolutionary. The shorter the horizon, the more detail a plan gets. They do plan nine months out, but that plan stays hazy, because any precision added now is false precision. Speaking for the applied product side, not research, they note that anything planned in November might have held for December but "isn't what happened."

What planning does require is a view of which model capabilities are likely to arrive on what timeline. At their previous company, when the team began building features on top of models, the normal product process broke down. It became: list everything you might want to do in the next year or two, prototype all of it, decide what is ready now, let the rest sit, and retry each item whenever the models leap forward. Whether a feature worked depended on whether the model was smart enough, not on the feature's shape.

Ambrosino's clearest example is the Codex app itself. They are "very confident" that the same app, released in February, would have "absolutely failed" if it had been ready in November. In their view the only difference was the models in between. A product with the exact same shape would have had completely different results a few months apart.

35:23

Building ahead of the models, and being "too AGI-pilled"

This leads to a pattern: build things that don't work yet and keep them until models catch up. Ambrosino says the team does a lot of this, but again people must be clear about which stage something is in. Many still have the muscle memory that code written means code shipped. Instead, they say, working code is now an artifact you can test against future models.

Their example is browser-based agency. OpenAI had Operator in ChatGPT, then agent mode inside the Atlas browser, and now an in-app browser in Codex. Ambrosino sees a thread through Operator, Atlas, Codex, and ChatGPT that is "fundamentally the same feature." Re-releasing it with different levels of intelligence changes the outcome completely. So they push people not to conclude that a feature is bad just because it isn't working yet.

The opposite failure is excess ambition, which Ambrosino associates especially with research: "at the limit, the model can just do this." Their example is the original Codex release, Codex on the web. You gave the model a task, it went away, and came back with finished work. The form factor wasn't radical, but the model didn't do the task well enough. Then Claude Code launched as a fully local tool. It was not hooked up to the cloud, it asked the user questions, and it didn't pretend you could delegate your whole life to it. According to Ambrosino, that worked much better because it matched where the models were. "We were too AGI-pilled for the moment," they say. In the past, market positioning told you the shape and communication of a product. Now you might need to release the same thing six times, without changing its shape, before it works.

On pushing teams toward ambition, Ambrosino notes that once a product exists, people naturally find paper cuts and optimize, and users on Twitter help by pointing them out. That work matters, but it's why OpenAI also keeps a culture of bottom-up exploration. Just as the Codex app disrupted ChatGPT in some ways, they expect it to be disrupted by some future effort. One team can't always do both the disruptive work and the maintenance of quality, so the process has to allow for both.

39:25

Beyond loops: autonomous development

Asked what the frontier is, Ambrosino jokes that "loops are so last week." By last year's standard, 100% of the product's code is AI-written, so the useful question is whether that code is written supervised or unsupervised. They welcome the moving goalposts as a sign of progress.

The team has explored autonomously developed software and "harness engineering," such as an overnight run that does garbage collection on the codebase. One problem they say all models share is that they tend to increase complexity. "If research is listening at any company, please make the models better at deleting code." That becomes a serious obstacle when development runs on autopilot, on both the codebase side and the human side. How do you teach a model which feature requests to build, which to ignore, which to group and reframe, and how to build the right abstractions? All of this is improving, but Ambrosino says they are not yet at the point of setting up a loop that "improves the app" by listening to Twitter, Slack, and email, though they're trying to get there. Asked whether a model could one day just be told to win the market or make a billion dollars, they say they're not in the business of saying never or always.

42:11

How Ambrosino runs their own job in Codex

Ambrosino describes their own use of Codex as following the product's evolution. At first the goal was personal: make the app good enough to write the Codex app with it. That created a tight dogfooding loop: hit something you can't do, fix it, do more. After launch, people started using it for different kinds of work, and Ambrosino's job shifted toward hiring and product discovery. So they started using the app for that too: building spreadsheet models, running internal deep research on past efforts in an area, and tracking what everyone is working on so they can steer things that are off track.

A set of releases around May introduced the in-app browser, computer use, and artifact creation to Codex. Ambrosino calls it the "Codex for almost everyone" release, and says it was the first time they "vibe-coordinated" a release. They kept a Notion doc listing everything that had to happen and automated gathering updates from pull requests and Slack channels to update the status tracker. That's common now, but at the time they felt at the bleeding edge of release management.

Today they wake up to a daily brief summarizing which of their roughly 3,000 Slack channels need attention. They can reply, for example asking for five questions to answer. Setup is still exploratory. They created a scheduled task describing which channels and topics matter, categories to watch, and context. For the first few runs it needed steering, and instead of editing instructions directly they could tell it things like "de-emphasize this workstream" or "this came up and wasn't in the brief." Ambrosino acknowledges this is the chatbot's core problem: they have time to set it up because it counts as product discovery, but people outside OpenAI shouldn't have to figure it out. Lenny notes this makes Codex work a lot like OpenClaw. Ambrosino says that if the app lacks, say, a Slack connector, it will offer to add one, because the least the product can do is let people ask it how to do things. They add that they don't think that's enough.

Lenny shares an example. He built an email filter in Codex that labels unsolicited cold email. Setup required configuring Pub/Sub in the Google Cloud console, an interface he found painful, so he asked Codex to do it. It took over his computer and clicked through the setup. Ambrosino sums up the model's attitude: "I don't care if you don't have a connector, man. I'll just start clicking." They add that deciding when the agent should use a connector, the in-app browser, the Chrome extension, or computer use is designed largely by feel.

They also describe how personal workflows feed the product. Everyone at OpenAI builds different personal systems, and when themes emerge, the team considers making them first-class. Memory is one example. Many people inside and outside OpenAI build an Obsidian vault or Notion space as a "mind palace" for the agent. Ambrosino thinks people shouldn't have to, and that a memory feature should handle it. Other workflows reflect how a specific person does their job and should stay personal. Deciding which becomes a primitive is ongoing.

49:08

The browser, and running SaaS apps inside Codex

Lenny raises Dan Shipper's prediction that people will run their SaaS apps inside Codex instead of Chrome. Ambrosino says Shipper Slacks them daily with requests. They review OpenAI's attempts at browser-shaped activity: Operator, ChatGPT agent mode, Atlas, now the in-app browser, plus a Chrome extension that connects the app to Chrome.

Some of the obstacles are, in their words, very boring. The app originally launched on Electron, where in-app browsers are "kind of janky," so the browser was meant only for testing front ends during development. The team then moved to the OWL stack that powered Atlas, which brought multiple tabs and enterprise security so users can log into their sites. The open question is what the browser should be. Is it only for the agent, fast and without Playwright's latency, while you keep using Chrome yourself? Or is the app for everything, including your own browsing? That path isn't well traveled and raises tedious problems like keyboard shortcuts: should they map to VS Code, Chrome, Linear, or something new? Lenny notes the app has to serve both people who have never built anything and power users like OpenClaw's Peter Steinberger. Ambrosino says they're "not convinced" they'll win Peter over from the terminal, but will keep trying.

52:18

From developer tool to home base: why Codex and ChatGPT are merging

Ambrosino tells the story behind the merger. Codex began as a CLI. The desktop app was built with conviction but some uncertainty, as a developer tool. It would not be an IDE but a "right-sized surface," more than a chatbot, where you could see code but not edit it. In January and February, before public launch, internal dogfooding showed clear product-market fit for engineering and research workflows. The team focused on raising the quality bar.

Then people from marketing, comms, finance, legal, and essentially every discipline started using the Codex app, even though Ambrosino says it was "actively hostile to these people." It showed them code and asked for approval to run rg. OpenAI responded by bringing Codex into other surfaces meant for those users, including the ChatGPT desktop app and the Atlas browser, as general knowledge-work tools. Then came "the most annoying problem": nobody would leave the Codex app for the apps supposedly built for them.

Ambrosino's takeaway is that "developer tool versus general knowledge work tool" is not a binary. Just as a person's role is the average of their work, a product can infer a lot from what a user is doing. Someone doing Excel work doesn't want git repository information. The product can start simple and grow more complex as needed, possibly with modes that make entry points legible. The team believes it has the right shape for deep, vertical work, and works closely with OpenAI's finance, science, and legal teams. If the right extensibility primitives and general model are in place, they argue, you can do anything with it. The challenge is generalizing.

Ambrosino says someone called the result a "super app," and they wish they hadn't, because now they hear about it all day. They describe it instead as a home base: a place to track everything you need to do across surfaces, where some work happens in the app and some happens in other apps it opens. For example, Codex has a built-in spreadsheet editor, but it's probably not good enough for the financial modeling behind OpenAI's multi-billion-dollar fundraising. So the app talks directly to an add-in in desktop Excel, and when it's done you can close Excel. The idea, they say, is not to draw a rectangle where everything must happen, but to have a home where you start, end, and automate work using whatever tools are needed.

57:32

The videographer who built a Premiere Pro extension

Ambrosino's favorite example of this model involves Brent, OpenAI's in-house videographer, who had to edit the launch videos for the Codex app, shot in the same room as the interview. Brent edited all of them with Codex, which became one of the early moments where the team asked what people were doing with this thing.

Brent started out of curiosity about whether Codex could edit video. Codex has no video-editing UI. It understood that Brent used Premiere Pro and could make some edits by changing the files behind the project, but not all of them. So Codex built itself a Premiere Pro extension, installed it, and then sent it instructions, such as asking it to change a marker inside Premiere. Ambrosino calls this "pretty nuts."

To them, it shows one of two opposite models the team is pursuing at once. In the first, Codex and ChatGPT work with specialized tools people already use, through connectors, computer use, or even extensions like this one, instead of OpenAI building a better video editor. In the second, from Dan Shipper's idea, users open their web apps inside Codex and let Codex do more with them. Lenny takes it as another reason to be more ambitious: just try it and see whether the model figures it out.

After recording, the show's producer mentioned they also edit with Codex, for simple tasks like cutting footage into three segments at pauses in conversation. Ambrosino responds that nearly every new use starts with a story like this. The product isn't designed for the job, but it is essentially a blank chatbot that can write code. It can do anything, so the question is what it is useful for.

59:33

Failure, and not getting married to your process

In the "failure corner," Ambrosino says this may be the first time in their career they haven't felt like they were failing. They spent years as a founder in heavily regulated spaces, which felt like a constant slog, and ended up selling the company "for parts." At the next startup, building AI tools in another locked-down industry, they tried things repeatedly without success. By their count they failed for "somewhere between 10 and 15 years" before this, and they're still surprised things are going well. Even now, they say, the project to merge Codex with ChatGPT has had countless micro-failures. The team proposes a shape, posts it in Slack, and gets a 2,000-message thread about how wrong they are. Ambrosino considers that candor the reason the external product has been good.

In the lightning round, Ambrosino, a parent of young kids, recommends The Gruffalo and The Big Orange Splot. In the second, a man on a street of identical houses gets orange paint spilled on his house and decides to redo it completely. The neighbors object at first, then one by one remake their own houses. Lenny reads it as a book about agency. Ambrosino names Linear as their favorite software product before Codex. Asked which is hardest among PM, designer, and engineer, they decline to rank them. They find the constant debate over whether designers, PMs, or engineers are "cooked" overblown. The new fluidity is refreshing, especially for people with agency, but some things shouldn't go away. People should find work that matters and figure out how to do it.

The most direct advice comes after the formal recording ends. Ambrosino says they don't know what advice to give, but if there is one thing: don't get married to your exact process. Get attached to the outcomes you are uniquely able to deliver, and change your process to try things. Being the best at understanding Figma's auto layout, they note, is not a durable advantage, since AI will get better at that too. They also add a caveat. They're wary of claiming this is how things will be for everyone. People at OpenAI self-select for figuring out the next thing, while most people won't be early adopters, and relearning everything constantly is genuinely tiring. Ambrosino personally hates repetition and loves doing the job differently every day, which, they joke, is why they can't negotiate: they don't want any other job.