Find your people
A community where smart, ambitious women can admit what they do not understand yet without surrendering their professional credibility.
AI will not save you.
But discovering what you can build might.
An AI club for marketing and sales baddies who want to build cool shit, make good money, reclaim some job security—and not fuck over people or the planet in the process.
Save your seat and get the Buildability Check—a practical guide for deciding what to build, what not to automate, and where a human needs to stay in charge.
No engineering degree. No agent army. No pretending the risks are imaginary.

Check it at the door
A correction for the record
You understand customers. You see patterns. You make decisions with incomplete information. You persuade humans. You turn chaos into plans.
Those are building skills.
You may still need someone to explain what an API, workflow, knowledge base, automation, or agent actually does—without making you feel late to a party where everyone else received the vocabulary list.
That is what we do here.
What happens inside
A community where smart, ambitious women can admit what they do not understand yet without surrendering their professional credibility.
Plain-English AI education that is funny, practical, technically sound, and useful beyond prompting.
Turn a real work, career, revenue, or business problem into a useful system. Build it, test it, set boundaries, explain it, and create proof.
A high-touch coaching cohort for women who want to become AI-native without becoming AI evangelists.
This technology has real consequences. The labor, safety, bias, privacy, copyright, geopolitical, and environmental questions do not disappear because someone calls AI “just a tool.”
We learn the tradeoffs. We interrogate the incentives. We create boundaries. We keep humans accountable. We decide what we will not build.
“It isn’t really a choice if you don’t know what you are choosing.”
“Before we automate anything, we ask: for what?”
“Using AI doesn’t make you a bad feminist. Building like the consequences don’t exist might.”
The club I wanted.Why I built this
I didn’t create Saved by the Build because I believe AI will save us. I created it because I was tired of feeling like the future was arriving at me—designed by people who spoke a language I didn’t, optimized for values I didn’t share, and sold with a level of certainty I didn’t trust.
I didn’t want another prompt course. I didn’t want an agent army. I wanted to understand the technology well enough to make my own decisions—and build something I previously believed I needed someone else’s permission to create.
The build gave me proof: I could learn this. I could shape it. I could decide where it belonged and where it absolutely did not.
And honestly, it wasn't the first time I'd had to learn a whole new language to build something.
I started as a licensed civil and environmental engineer, working on climate solutions and water. So believe me, I've thought hard about what this technology costs the planet.
Before AI, I directed the global rebrand of a Fortune 500 company. That work was a contributing factor in its $15B acquisition.
At Superinterviews, I helped job seekers land $25M in offers at companies like Google, Meta, Microsoft, Harvey, Anthropic, and more.
I took an AI-native product from $0 to $1M ARR.
I built the content and events engine behind a 14K-person community, with AI helping me write the emails and run the events. The voice and the judgment stayed mine.
And I built Cleopatra: 166 booked demos in six weeks, across 7 SDR accounts, run by one person who didn't know what a terminal was in week 1.
That's the proof I want you to have, too.
API
A waiter between two bits of software. You order data; it brings data. Sometimes it says the kitchen is closed.
You do have to decide what relationship you want with it.

Join the club for build invitations, intelligent troublemaking, useful experiments, career leverage, and AI explained like you are brilliant—not like you have a computer-science degree.
No spam. No sludge. No daily email written by twelve agents wearing a trench coat.