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Learn AI so I can eventually go away.

That's the mindset for many Gen Xers and Baby Boomers who are learning AI to hang onto their jobs long enough to retire. BI's Amanda Hoover spoke to elder Americans about how they're getting a crash course in AI as they race toward retirement.

While younger Americans worry about their job prospects for the next few decades, older Americans are on much shorter timelines. Many just need to work for a little bit longer before calling it quits.

They're also uniquely positioned for the AI boom in the short term. Years of workplace experience mean they are a treasure trove of knowledge that could benefit the AI tools that need training.

And unlike their younger colleagues, they're less inclined to worry about automating themselves out of a job. After all, they want to be out of a job in a few years if they can afford it.

Not everyone's so enthusiastic about adopting AI. Amanda spoke to a 47-year-old working in legal sales who has moral qualms about the tech's environmental footprint. But she's also realistic about trying to future-proof herself until she can retire in a few years.

"Most people in corporate are just trying to make it to a point where they are fine financially," she said. "You just don't know when your ticket is punched."

Kymm Dracup knows what it feels like to get her ticket punched.

She was unemployed for 22 months before nabbing a temporary consulting job a few months ago. But with no guarantees of future full-time work, she's on edge. She outlined her challenges to BI's Tess Martinelli as part of a new BI series, Still in the Game, about older Americans still looking for work.

At 56 years old, she says being older has impacted her confidence when searching for jobs. She also thinks her age is affecting her job search, although she acknowledges that it's difficult to prove.

She was evicted from her home and moved in with her daughter, joining the many Americans who have opted for a multigenerational household to address financial pressures.

Dracup's story shows why so many older Americans feel they can't afford to fall behind on AI. Longer lifespans, vanishing pensions, and rising healthcare costs mean retirement has gotten more expensive, and the margin for error is thin.

• CFOs are taking charge of AI spending as companies pour billions into the technology.
• Some are introducing AI budgets and new controls to keep costs from spiraling.
• "The CFO is really becoming the face of the AI story," said a PwC advisor to finance chiefs.

At Match Group, every employee now has an AI budget.

The parent company of Tinder, Hinge, and other dating apps recently began giving department heads a set amount to spend on AI, which is then distributed across their teams. Employees can track their usage on a dashboard, and if they want to exceed their budget, they have to explain why. The company's most expensive AI models also aren't available by default and require a specific use case.

"If you don't set guardrails, there's no reason for an engineer to not go use the most expensive model," said Match Group CFO Steve Bailey. The average software engineer at the company spends roughly $600 a month on AI tokens, he said.

Match Group's system reflects a growing reality across corporate America: As companies spend billions on AI, CFOs are emerging as some of the most powerful executives in the AI era.

Finance chiefs are doing more than signing off on AI budgets. In many cases, they're the ones deciding who gets access to AI tools, how much employees can spend, which vendors make the cut, and whether AI investments are generating enough value to justify costs.

"The CFO is really becoming the face of the AI story," said Peter Pollini, a PwC advisor to finance chiefs in the financial-services sector.

A spending boom

The stakes are enormous. Match Group initially allocated $5 million for AI this year, but it's now on track to spend double that amount, Bailey said. The increase followed CEO Spencer Rascoff's May push to make the company more AI-native by expanding access to AI tools across the workforce. Initially, they were available mainly to engineers.

"Aside from maybe travel and entertainment, we've never had to budget for a cost that's this big at the employee level," Bailey said.

To help fund those investments, Bailey said Match Group plans to dramatically slow hiring while it assesses how AI could reshape its workforce.

Across corporate America, similar calculations are turning CFOs into the gatekeepers of one of the biggest spending booms in decades.

At Elevance Health, CFO Mark Kaye oversees a hidden way of keeping AI costs from spiraling. The insurance giant quietly routes employees' queries to different AI models based on the complexity of the request. That's because a single prompt can cost anywhere from a few pennies to more than a dollar, depending on how many tokens, or units of data, employees gobble up.

"We manage it on the back end," said Kaye, adding that he expects Elevance Health, the parent of Anthem Blue Cross Blue Shield, to invest $1 billion or more on AI this year.

Making AI pay off

Some CFOs are making tough decisions about how to fund AI expenses at large, such as by freezing annual salary raises and laying off workers. Others say AI is helping to pay for itself.

Kaye said AI automation at Elevance has reduced administrative work tied to medical-chart reviews by roughly 40%, giving staff more time to support customers.

"There are significant inefficiencies in the system that AI is allowing us to take out," he said.

Keeping a tight leash on AI spending isn't the only new hurdle for CFOs. They're also responsible for managing spending on a category that is evolving more rapidly than previous generations of enterprise software.

For the first time this year, Xero, a global small-business platform that offers accounting, payroll, and payments, added a line item to its budget for AI token spending per employee, said Claire Bramley, the CFO. The company also created a task force to review software purchases and identify AI products it can do without.

"Do we have more than one tool that serves the same purpose?" Bramley said. "As a CFO, you want to make sure that everybody's not going off and doing their own thing."

AI is also changing who CFOs spend time with. Bramley said finance, technology, and HR leaders at Xero now work together more frequently to evaluate software purchases, hiring plans, and how AI could affect future staffing needs.

"You could probably do it once a month before, and I think you have to do it weekly today," she said.

Additional headaches

CFOs are also facing new business problems arising from AI.

Netta Samroengraja, finance chief at healthcare platform Zocdoc, said her team has had to hustle to evaluate AI tool providers to solve problems that, ironically, were created by the technology. In recruiting, for instance, the technology suddenly enabled job seekers to flood the company with applications and create phony personas.

"It was pretty prevalent very quickly, and so we had to react quickly," Samroengraja said.

That wasn't the only surprise, as the economics of AI were shifting, too. Early on, Zocdoc raced to vet vendors, anticipating that prices designed to attract customers at the start of the AI boom would increase over time.

The company used that window to test multiple providers and compare their cost and effectiveness before settling on the tools that delivered the strongest business results, Samroengraja said, adding that Zocdoc has been willing to spend more on tools that produce measurable business outcomes rather than optimize for the lowest possible AI spend.

"If you see the ROI in it, you should keep investing in this," she said.

A crowded AI market is making those decisions even harder. New providers are constantly pitching tools that promise to boost productivity, cut costs, or replace existing software, forcing many CFOs to take a more active role in evaluating vendors, said Alex Sobol, cofounder of the Millennium Alliance, an invite-only community for C-suite executives in North America and Europe.

"It seems like every hour there's a new AI vendor," he said. "It's hard to know what's real and what's fake, and what's good and what's bad."

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Kymm Dracup, a 56-year-old based in Toronto. It's been edited for length and clarity.

My daughter says, "Don't worry, Mom, you'll get a job. I've seen your résumé, you're great." I don't think my daughter realizes the effect that my age, 56, has on my confidence and finding work.

I was unemployed for 22 months before landing a temporary consulting job a few months ago. There's no guarantee for a transition to full-time work, and I'm really scared about my future.

I've been rejected countless times, and I recently got evicted from my home. Unfortunately, I think my confidence took a hit, and my desperation for a job is coming through in my interviews.

I never learned why I lost my last job

I was the head of the management team for a group travel company for three years. In 2024, my job was terminated.

I asked for a reason, but I was never given one. In Ontario, you don't legally need to give a reason, so that was it.

It was very tough on my confidence to get let go. I still don't know the reason, but my best guess is that they were bringing in younger people with fresh eyes and innovations to replace me.

It's difficult to prove that age is hindering my job search

After losing my job, I started applying wherever I could, mostly for travel jobs, and later, any sales job. I received rejection after rejection.

I've been stood up for interviews, received automated rejections, and even had recruiters find excuses to end calls after seeing my face on camera.

Have you ever felt your age was a factor in a job rejection? Scroll down to the comments and share your experience.

It feels obvious to me that age is a factor in why I can't find a job, but the tricky thing is that there's no real way to prove that any of these rejections are due to my age. It hurts, and I don't feel as though recruiters see my value.

Applying to jobs felt different 5 years ago

When I was on the job market five years ago, I don't think AI was being used to sort through résumés.

Additionally, I've never interviewed online before now, and quite frankly, it's a bit intimidating. Therefore, I may not come across as confident, as there is an insecurity factor lending to the video.

I know how to sell myself in person, but I find it difficult, especially at my age, to do so over Zoom. You can be vibrant, brilliant, and all these things, but it's tricky because my generation is so geared to meeting people face to face. That is where we shine.

There are also only so few jobs available. I applied for an entry-level receptionist role for a yoga studio, and they stood me up for my interview. So many people are looking for jobs, and I think older people might not be the first to get hired.

I think my desperation for a job is making it harder to get one

As a single woman in my 50s, I don't have a partner to financially support me during this time. I feel desperate to find a job, and though I don't want it to come across that way to hiring managers, I think they can feel it.

When I get another rejection, the self-doubt that I'm worthless, too old, and that nobody will hire me comes back up, and the desperation intensifies. It's a vicious cycle. I try to tell myself, "Kymm, pull up your socks. Let's go. Go on to the next interview," but in the back of my mind, the doubt is still there.

Sometimes I'm joining an interview after not leaving the house or speaking to people for days. When I get an interview, I can't just snap my fingers and get out of that dark place.

I got evicted from my home and moved in with my daughter

My daughter has offered to let me stay in her home since I now have an income. I'm helping her pay bills while I figure it out.

I think it's very difficult for her to have a parent who is all of a sudden in need. I raised her as a single mom. I was strong, and now I just crumpled to the ground.

I've been in a really dark place, and I know that's not easy for her. What is helping me through this time is turning to God. I have to believe in something.

I wish I had been more prepared for unemployment in my 50s

Most people coming out of university these days are learning AI and are up to date with modern technology. When you bring in someone my age, it's different because the technology we had in school was pretty archaic.

I had no idea how difficult it would be to navigate the job market. I wish I were more prepared for all of the "no"s because it can be really hard on your self-esteem.

I wish that life experience were viewed as a more valuable asset in the workplace. It's been very hard to get out of that dark mindset when I keep receiving rejections. My advice is to find a way to believe in something better for yourself.

Sometimes belief is all you have, so you've got to hold onto it.

Are you navigating a career change in your 50s? Contact this reporter at tmartinelli@businessinsider.com to share your story.

• The age of freewheeling AI spending may be coming to an end.
• Consulting firms are rethinking how much they, and their clients, spend on AI.
• Tell us how spending at your consulting firm has changed.

Companies are learning that there's such a thing as spending too much on AI.

As the cost of AI tools grows, executives are recalibrating. Amazon recently removed its employee-made leaderboard for tracking AI token usage because it encouraged excessive spending. Walmart, which developed a vibe-coding tool for employees, recently set limits on the use of tokens. Uber COO Andrew MacDonald said it's hard to justify the money his company is spending on AI.

Cisco Chief Product Officer Jeetu Patel also pushed back on the cost of tokens. He said at an event recently that the price is "far higher than the actual value these tokens are generating at scale."

For the consulting industry, the rise of AI was a near-existential threat. At first glance, chatbots can do a lot of the work of consultants, particularly those early in their careers. Most firms moved quickly to attract clients who needed help integrating the technology into their own companies. And they quickly adopted it themselves.

KPMG, for example, has built a dashboard to track how often employees in its US advisory division use AI tools, part of a broader effort to move from basic adoption to more sophisticated use. McKinsey plans to go further. CEO Bob Sternfels said in January that the firm uses roughly 25,000 AI agents alongside its 40,000 human employees, and hopes one or more agents will eventually support every employee.

The surge in spending, however, has raised a question: Are companies investing in AI strategically or simply spending to avoid being left behind? It's something consulting firms are working to answer for both their clients and themselves.

Tell us how AI spending has changed at your consulting firm:

For now, the answer appears to be: keep spending, but more strategically.

In a recent report on corporate AI investment, Boston Consulting Group found that companies expect to more than double their AI spending in 2026, from roughly 0.8% of revenue to about 1.7%. For large enterprises, that shift represents billions of dollars flowing into AI strategies that remain, in many cases, experimental and difficult to measure.

Russell Fradin, CEO and cofounder of Larridin, a platform that helps companies — including major consulting firms — measure the returns on AI usage, said the spending trend will continue.

"We haven't seen anyone talking about spending less in AI next year," Fradin told Business Insider. "They're just talking about instrumenting to understand where it goes."

Companies, Fradin said, are coming to the consensus that they "can't 10x spend every year forever."

• Panera Bread CEO Paul Carbone hopes to reverse the chain's slumping sales with a new strategy.
• The effort, named RISE, addresses customer complaints about food value and in-store service quality.
• The chain's latest menu launch, featuring new summer drinks and bowls, builds on the momentum.

As Panera Bread's chief financial officer, Paul Carbone once signed off on a change that looked good on a spreadsheet.

The chain swapped its salad base from 100% romaine lettuce to a mix of romaine and iceberg in the summer of 2024, a move he said was intended to save money.

Now, as CEO, Carbone says Panera is trying to undo that kind of thinking.

"No one really likes iceberg lettuce," Carbone told Business Insider. "No one looks at that white salad and says, 'Now that's worth it.'"

For Carbone, the lettuce decision — which was fully reversed in June 2025, shortly after he became chief executive — has become shorthand for a broader problem at Panera: Years of small cost-cutting moves, menu changes, and operational tweaks chipped away at the experience customers remembered loving.

Panera is now rolling out a summer launch tied to its broader "RISE" transformation strategy, an acronym for the steps of the turnaround effort, which stands for "refresh the menu," “ignite value," "serve guests with excellence," and "expand the network."

The latest evidence of that effort arrives this week in the form of new shrimp-topped bowls, upgraded salads, bacon-and-cheese breakfast frittatas, frozen coffees, and fruit-forward beverages — a menu overhaul intended to remind customers why they fell in love with Panera in the first place.

Carbone said Panera began developing the strategy last year after multiple years of negative same-store transactions. Sales sometimes rose, he said, but that growth was driven by pricing and mix, not by more customers coming in.

"The lifeblood of a restaurant company is transactions," he said. "So that's where we started to develop Panera RISE."

At its core, RISE is Panera's attempt to fix the complaints customers raised most often: food that no longer felt worth the price, fewer affordable options, weaker in-store service, and growing competition for diners' attention. The company spent months talking with thousands of customers to determine its areas of focus.

Carbone said many still had warm feelings toward Panera, but had stopped visiting because the chain had gotten too expensive, removed favorite menu items, or simply fallen out of their routines.

That's a tough place to be in a restaurant market where consumers have become increasingly selective. Business Insider has previously reported that diners are splitting along income lines, with lower-income consumers cutting back while wealthier households keep spending. Restaurants have responded with discounts and limited-time offers to improve value messaging, but analysts have warned that value alone is not always enough to bring customers back.

Panera's own traffic remains under intense pressure. Foot traffic has declined year over year every month from January through May this year, according to data from the foot traffic firm, Placer.ai.

R.J. Hottovy, Placer.ai's head of analytical research, said sandwich chains in particular have seen fewer visits than other concepts as consumers push back on menu price increases and embrace healthier eating habits.

Carbone's diagnosis goes beyond food. Panera also cut labor at cafés to cut costs, he said. The company has since added a front-of-house role, the Guest Experience Champion, to greet customers, answer questions, and help maintain dining rooms.

It is also rethinking how technology fits into the business.

"There was a time that if you talked to folks here, they would tell you that we were a technology company that sold food," Carbone said. "I will tell you emphatically, we are a restaurant company that uses technology to enhance the guest experience. We're not a technology company."

That does not mean abandoning digital ordering, kiosks, or loyalty tools. Only about a quarter of Panera's business is now eaten inside its cafés, Carbone said, but two-thirds of customers still walk into a restaurant, whether they are dining in, picking up, or ordering to go.

That means the in-store experience still matters.

Under RISE, Panera is adding new menu items and drinks, but the bigger bet is that customers will notice when the chain starts optimizing for experience again, not just efficiency.

Carbone said Panera's priorities now are simple: "Transactions, sales, profits — in that order."

After years of trying to drive growth through price cuts and efficiency, Panera is betting that getting more customers through the door again will take something simpler: giving them a reason to come back.

Pylon CEO Marty Kausas had to make a difficult choice: scale back token spending, or stomach a $1.4 million bill.

Kausas said that his AI software company was fast approaching 150 employees on its Anthropic plan earlier this month, a point where the bill would more than triple. That realization got Kausas to declare the era of unlimited spending over — and he decided to set ceilings for tokens, the units of data that determine how AI is priced, for some of his non-technical employees.

Pylon's VP of finance is now exploring "where we should set caps," Kausas said. "This is just the start."

Leaders like Kausas are weathering a massive workplace shift, as more workers learn to love improved AI tools. Over the past few months, usage has moved from something bosses felt they had to incentivize to something they had to limit, due to skyrocketing costs and the realization that unlimited spending didn't always yield meaningful results.

OpenAI CEO Sam Altman said earlier this month he was blown away by how fast the conversation around AI budgets had changed. At the beginning of the year, "people were totally happy with the amount they were spending," he said. Now, these costs are "a huge issue."

It's not just CEOs and CFOs navigating these new corporate dynamics. For rank-and-file software engineers, part of their job now involves advocating for the compute they need to succeed. Meanwhile, some managers have to barter for their team's tokens, pitching like "Shark Tank." And, to poach red-hot AI talent, hiring managers are guaranteeing candidates tokens to spend.

A cutthroat Hunger Games for AI compute is fast approaching, one where everyone — from the C-suite to junior developers — is a player.

Token-fever whiplash

Max Kan's official job title is "tokenomics analyst."

At the data provider SemiAnalysis, Kan helps build token models for hedge funds and hyperscalers. When I called Kan in May, he was bullish on the impact that deep token budgets could have on the workforce. "It's basically true for everyone that, if you have an employee that's making $100,000 a year, you can probably make them 2x more productive with $10,000 worth of tokens," he said.

Those were the days of tokenmaxxing, when companies sent their engineers diving into token pools like Scrooge McDuck. Companies encouraged token leaderboards, where those at the bottom of the rankings felt pressure to use more AI, and executives across a range of industries couldn't stop talking about it.

The word "tokens" was used in 129 earnings calls in Q2 of 2026, up from 57 calls the prior quarter, according to an analysis performed for Business Insider by business intelligence platform AlphaSense.

Within a matter of weeks, the belt-tightening began. Companies began putting AI budgets on a diet and setting token limits. Coinbase set a cap; so did Walmart. Amazon shut down its internal token leaderboard.

Kan still advocates for big per-engineer allowances — and wonders what workers will think of the rapid discourse shift. He worried that engineers would think: "My boss is adamantly pushing me to do one thing, then I did that thing, and now I'm getting yelled at because I did that thing too well."

"I would definitely feel confused and angry if I were an engineer in those positions," he said.

Leaders across industries — from financial giants like JPMorgan to media conglomerates like Disney — are working to develop cohesive, effective AI policies.

Some firms have always been anti-tokenmaxxing. The enterprise software company Pega is one of them. When I hopped on the phone in May with its CFO and COO, Ken Stillwell, he called the trend an "incredibly self-serving" narrative by the AI companies. His company didn't set numerical token caps, but it did throttle requests that would spend in excess.

When we spoke a month later, as the discourse shifted, Stillwell felt vindicated. "We're quite happy that we're one of many talking about this," he said.

AI spending also continues to soar

Technology and media companies spent an average of $66.29 per employee on AI in May, up from $58.84 in April, according to Ramp's AI Index.

Ara Kharazian, its lead economist, told Business Insider he expected this metric to keep rising, but he spotted early signs of tightening, such as increased use of model routers, which can help better manage costs.

Some companies aren't cutting AI budgets just yet, but they are thinking critically about head count. For instance, MindFort, a Y Combinator-backed AI startup, has six employees. Its CEO, Brandon Veiseh, said the company would've needed 20 employees pre-AI to reach its current scale. Where have those funds gone? Tokens.

"We have to weigh our token-to-people ratio," Veiseh said. "It's not something we think is particularly comfortable or a great feeling to say."

Even though token costs are expected to come down as AI companies like Google increasingly compete on price by offering smaller, more efficient models, these sorts of tradeoffs aren't likely to go away. Often, the cheaper a resource is, the more of it is consumed.

For now, companies are thinking more critically and sometimes taking strategic steps back — but they're hesitant to move too quickly. Kausas, Pylon's CEO, said he wants to prioritize making sure there's a return on investment — and avoid engineer backlash.

"If we told engineers that they were not allowed to use AI products, they would not work here," he said. "It would feel like you were in the Stone Age."

Dawn of the token Hunger Games?

As engineers increasingly learn they might have to battle for their token allocation, team infighting could grow.

Some have compared this to a survival-of-the-fittest scenario. "Coding is now cockroach protein bars and we're all fighting for crumbs," said one coder on X, comparing the dynamic to "The Hunger Games."

Developers are also asking more about tokens during job interviews. Kausas said that applicants had asked him about budgets. AI advisor and AWS alum Allie K. Miller had heard of interviewees getting into the nitty-gritty: "What tier of model will I have access to? Do you have partnerships with AI labs that get us relatively early access?"

It's a sign of a new era where tokens — or at least the number workers want — aren't guaranteed.

Max Christoff, the CTO of legal tech company Everlaw, made the case for giving engineers token caps, but letting them negotiate for bigger budgets. He compared it to using cellular data before unlimited plans. Sometimes you need to spend big on the data, but other times you mindlessly scroll, not realizing how much you're wasting. Christoff wanted all of the former and none of the latter.

"We want to make it easy to ask for more if you can actually use it," Christoff said.

If a company doesn't set token caps, it may also set model restrictions. Russ Fradin, the founder of Larridin, a platform for tracking AI use, was emphatic. "Of course, they will limit who gets to use these tools. It's not even a question," he said.

Fradin compared allocating model access to taking a trip on the company dime. Many are allowed to book an economy flight, but few — if any — are allowed to charter a jet, he said. Access to cutting-edge AI models may be equivalent to the private jet: so expensive that only a few all-stars can do it.

Engineers have good reason to fight for their tokens. Having limited AI access could hurt them in the long run, leaving them less skilled or less marketable in future job searches.

Brock Simon advised companies on AI for Bain & Company before he founded his own startup, Native. He watched as some companies were slow to adopt the technology or restricted access to specific tools and agents, leaving their employees behind the curve.

"It really hurt some people's careers," he said.

Last June, fashion models for the fashion retailer Rainbow received a warning: AI was ramping up, and the number of workers needed would be ramping down.

"You may have already seen some changes taking place both within the studio and on the site," wrote Rainbow's studio manager, Phil Caraway. The company had started "styling certain products, and generating avatars, with the assistance of A.I," he explained, and while he couldn't say for certain whether any freelancers would lose their jobs, he wanted them to "plan accordingly."

"Fewer people will be needed in the long term," Caraway wrote in the previously unreported email. "It is very likely that this Fall will see a huge increase in A.I. use."

Thus began what several models described as a year of anxiety and, later, anger. They could see the company using AI to create synthetic models within view of where they worked, the models told Business Insider. At the same time, the models' days in the New York office began to dwindle, they said, leaving many without work. Nearly a year after that June email, Rainbow has begun rehiring some models — though many remain out of work.

In March of this year, the models began noticing Rainbow marketing images that looked like them, but posed in positions or locations that differed from the photo shoots they had participated in. Many suspected the doppelgängers were the result of AI. The lookalike models cropped up across Rainbow's site, social media, and newsletters. A flurry of emails to Rainbow followed, along with a lawsuit by one model.

As AI technologies improve, workplaces across the country are experimenting with how to use them — and navigating the thorny question of their impact on human jobs. Creative industries like modeling are especially exposed as AI-generated photos and videos improve in quality.

AI is growing more common within the fashion industry. In a 2025 study from the Worker Institute at Cornell University ILR School and Data & Society in partnership with the Model Alliance, researchers said that e-commerce gigs were "more vulnerable to displacement by AI technologies."

Business Insider spoke to multiple Rainbow employees and contractors, all of whom requested anonymity, and also reviewed dozens of email exchanges and images, as well as modeling contracts.

"Rainbow is responsibly evaluating emerging AI technologies in the marketplace, and has and is committed to doing so in a proper manner," David Cost, Rainbow's chief digital officer, wrote in a statement to Business Insider.

In a follow-up email, Cost wrote that "Rainbow's dealings with its employees and independent contractors are private" and that the company disagreed with "much of the purported 'facts.'" He declined to comment on specific questions sent by Business Insider. "Rainbow has acted appropriately and in accordance with its commitments, including contracts signed by models," he added.

Here's how Rainbow's AI model experiment got messy, according to its workers — from a slowdown on human modeling work to contract disputes and hiring some of the models back.

Rainbow, founded in Brooklyn over 90 years ago, has over 800 stores nationwide and is privately owned. The retailer caters to thrifty consumers with steep discounts, similar to Fashion Nova or PrettyLittleThing. It also operates the similar brand KissDon'tTell.

For its e-commerce shoots, the Rainbow team looked for models without agency connections, one former stylist who helped recruit models said. Two models said that they were found on Instagram and had little paid modeling experience. Fees varied by model, though many said they made around $50 an hour.

Three models said that one Rainbow employee told them to be available for five days of work a week. The former stylist said that Rainbow asked its freelancers to be available Monday through Friday, but that it wasn't written into their contracts. Two models said they left their prior jobs for the company.

Partway through 2025, the models began to notice something different in the studio: AI training. Employees would lay out the clothes on a flat board, take photos, and upload them to an AI program called Lica, one employee said. Lica generated fully synthetic AI models — not duplicates of human models — for Rainbow, the employee said.

The AI training caused significant anxiety among the models, they said. Trying to lighten the mood, some models said they would crack dark jokes about the system replacing them. Two models said that they recalled instances where the fit of a garment on their body was compared to an AI avatar, pointing out where the avatar needed to be more realistic.

After Carraway's June email a year ago, the models braced for their work to drop off. For months, several models said that they continued to get consistent bookings. Then, they slowed down, the models said, and by mid-March of this year, the work dried up. Some models submitted their availability but said they received no response.

During that period, two Rainbow employees who are not models said that they went weeks without seeing any human models in the studio.

Meanwhile, the models started spotting their doppelgängers on Rainbow's social media.

The models had previously participated in product shots wearing Rainbow apparel, such as a long floral dress, while photographed in front of plain backgrounds.

The doppelgängers they later noticed looked strikingly similar — the same builds, facial features, and outfits they had worn — but were pictured with their bodies in entirely different positions. The models texted these images back and forth in a group chat. Business Insider viewed over a dozen such images.

The second clause of the contracts many of the models had signed allowed Rainbow to use their images "whether intact or in part, composite or distorted in character or form, cropped or altered, without restrictions as to changes or transformations."

One image that sparked conversation in the group chat showed what the models suspected was an AI lookalike that altered the model's original skin tone. The model and the suspected AI lookalike had some similarities — the hairstyle and placement of the hair part, as well as the accessories and shoes — but also some differences, such as the nose shape.

None of the employees Business Insider spoke to had directly seen the creation or editing of these doppelgängers.

Several of the models who suspected that Rainbow was modifying their likenesses with AI raised issues with the company via email.

One of the models, Francheska Pujols, sued Rainbow on May 22, alleging the images defamed her and caused confusion over her endorsement of the company's products, among other allegations.

Pujols wrote in an affidavit that her contract only covered images captured in photo shoots, and "does not in any way authorize the creation of entirely new images, scenes, poses, or compositions that did not exist in the original content."

Rainbow posted photos of what Pujols said is her AI doppelgänger; in one, she straddles a barstool. Another shows her seated, wearing a short skirt, with one leg raised.

Pujols wrote to Business Insider that she would "never pose with my legs open or position myself in a sexualized manner for the world to see."

"I am extremely emotional and have many sleepless nights with the thought of the altered images of me," Pujols wrote. "I sought a professional aide to help with sleep and reconciliation."

Pujols withdrew her suit on May 29 to pursue a private settlement, her attorney wrote in an affidavit. She refiled the lawsuit on Monday.

"As Rainbow has stated previously in relation to this matter, Ms. Pujols' images were used properly and in accordance with the agreement she signed," Joan McGillycuddy, Rainbow's chief legal officer, wrote in a statement to Business Insider. "There is no violation of her rights."

Rainbow's contracts said the models would receive double their day rate for image use outside that second clause. Some models requested compensation for the suspected AI images but were turned down, according to their messages, which were viewed by Business Insider.

Then, the contract back-and-forth began.

On March 10, amid the work slowdown, Caraway sent an email to the models. "To account for today's rapidly-changing technology and expectations of use, Rainbow has come up with an updated Model Release," Caraway wrote.

One clause in the new contract was particularly controversial — one that the models interpreted as granting Rainbow sweeping AI rights.

The new clause allowed Rainbow to use "various technologies, tools, or production methods now known or later developed, including automated or computer-assisted techniques." The clause should be interpreted "broadly" as long as the company was not "materially misrepresenting the model," the contract read.

Some of the models said they refused to sign it. On March 28, Carraway emailed the models that Rainbow agreed to remove a non-compete clause, but the technology usage clause was presented as a dealbreaker.

"Rainbow cannot adjust the AI clause," Caraway wrote. "In order to continue to be hired, this must be agreed to."

It's not clear if the contract negotiations contributed to or prolonged the work slowdown.

Cost, Rainbow's CDO, hyped up the AI program Lica in an April video reposted by the startup's cofounder.

"It's amazing what the people at Lica have been able to do," he said. "We're using them for product photography. We're also using them for editorial or things that you'd see on a homepage or in an email."

Two staffers said the tool was buggy. Some of the synthetic models' legs were too short, one said; the AI repeatedly generated one synthetic model with a white cardigan over her clothes. Creating an AI image would also take long stretches of re-prompting, they said, often around 15-30 minutes.

Rainbow is no longer using Lica, one staffer said. Lica told Business Insider in a statement that it is "focused on foundational AI research for multimodal design models."

"As part of our research efforts, we provided interested enterprise partners with early access to emerging AI capabilities and model technologies," a Lica representative wrote. "We do not direct, supervise, or control our customers' implementation decisions, and we do not publicly comment on specific customer use cases."

Rainbow began bringing some of its human models back at the end of April, employees said.

This time around, some of the models received an agreement with the following clause: "Company will not create digital replicas, train AI on Model likeness, or generate synthetic images not based on original Content."

Rainbow is still producing images of the AI avatars, one staffer said, but not with Lica.

Cost, the company's chief digital officer, referenced the state of AI experimentation at Rainbow in his LinkedIn job description.

"Every experiment designed to replace a person with AI failed," Cost wrote. "Every experiment designed to give a talented person more capability won, and won bigger than expected."

• After months of uncertainty, a Meta data scientist said she felt a sense of relief upon getting laid off.
• Moyan Chen said the loss of her job made her question what she wanted to do next.
• She's considering AI startups, seeing more risk in traditional data roles at big companies.

Moyan Chen was laid off from her role as a data scientist at Meta in May after just under a year on the job. The 24-year-old, who lives in New York City, isn't sure what she wants to do next. Business Insider has verified her identity and former employment. The following has been edited for brevity and clarity.

When the rumor of layoffs at Meta leaked in March, there was no timeline. Some of my colleagues and I were fearing Wednesdays because Meta has sometimes laid off people on those days. So, every Tuesday night, when I left work, I wondered if I would be coming back.

On Wednesday mornings, I would wake up early to check my email. That lasted for a month, until April, when there was a date for the layoffs: May 20. When the day finally came, and I got laid off, I was like, "This is it." It was more like relief than pain.

I feel like, ultimately, I lost my job to AI.

A lot of my coworkers were also impacted, and they're trying to find jobs. They are making posts on LinkedIn and asking for new opportunities. It feels like we are all sailing on the sea, and Meta is a huge ship that's moving very fast. When the AI storm comes, is your next move to jump to a smaller, slower ship?

Some people I worked with were saying it's better to find a job in finance because it takes longer for them to adopt AI. But ultimately, is the same thing going to happen to you?

A switch in my career path

After I got laid off, I wasn't that nervous, because I'm single and have no family in the US. My parents have been wanting me to go back to China anyway. That's the worst-case scenario because I love the US and the energy of New York City.

I don't know if I plan to find another job at a big company. I have interned at three of them, and now I don't want to climb the corporate ladder. I used to wonder, "How am I going to feed myself if I don't work for a big company?" That's why I didn't resign from Meta. I kept working, and I worked hard.

Now I feel like it's not safe anymore, like I can get laid off at any time. Meta has been very generous with severance, so I have a couple of months to figure out what I'll do next.

I don't think this layoff is a bad thing for me. It's more like a switch in my career path. It's making me see that I could live a different life, and it's probably better than the corporate life.

I'm still in a transition period and don't have all the answers. Seeing how AI is changing things, it makes me rethink the type of job I might want. I've started creating content online to document my career journey and what I'm learning about AI. I'm also interested in exploring career coaching to help people who are experiencing this transition brought about by this new technology.

The longer-term risk

Whatever I end up doing, I expect AI will have an impact. At Meta, I was a data scientist working on Instagram. For that kind of job, the more repetitive tasks are definitely going away. So, writing queries and spending time creating visualizations — these things have already been replaced by AI in Big Tech.

If you only know how to code, that's not enough. If you're just writing SQL queries, using Python, or tracking and analyzing metrics, it's not a very promising career anymore. There will still be a role called "data scientist," but they will need to know more about other functions. There is this emerging trend that requires us to have broader skills and knowledge because of AI.

It got to the point where I wouldn't check AI-generated queries because they have gotten so accurate. I thought that if AI made a mistake on a specific task, I would make 10. For big, ambiguous projects, AI would still make a lot of mistakes, but for specific tasks, it was super accurate. It's very much like a talented individual contributor.

I'm less interested in AI as a stand-alone technology and more interested in how it changes the way people work and build products. If I come across a team that aligns with my interests and values, I would seriously consider joining an AI startup.

Those companies can be risky, but staying at a big company doing traditional data analytics and reporting jobs just feels like I will be left behind. That's riskier in the long term.

Do you have a story to share about your career? Contact this reporter at tparadis@businessinsider.com.

• Jea Park walked away from her tech career at 32 to pursue a job in the trades.
• She said she no longer enjoyed working in tech, as AI has become more embedded in daily workflows.
• Her biggest challenge is finding an apprenticeship, but she is excited about the change.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Jae Park, a 32-year-old based in Las Vegas. It's been edited for length and clarity.

About a decade ago, I took a furniture-building class on a whim, and I loved it so much.

I considered going into carpentry at the time, but after leaving college with six-figure debt, I gave up on the idea of having my work tied to something I was actually passionate about. Instead, I wanted to pursue a path that could let me make more money.

Over the past year, as my tech job pushed me to incorporate AI into every aspect of my workflow, I wanted out. It felt like I was on a giant cruise ship with the company trying to make a U-turn as quickly as possible, and everyone was falling off the ship. So, I left in March.

After I left my tech job, I walked into the trade union office with the plan of becoming a carpentry apprentice at 32, but finding an apprenticeship has proven to be difficult. Still, I'm so overjoyed with my decision.

I worked with a union rep to learn about apprenticeships

I always aspired to work in tech for its stability, pay, and benefits. Once I got in as a sales enablement ops strategist, however, I felt very disconnected from my work output and realized there wasn't much I enjoyed about the industry.

One time, I was listening to a podcast where the hosts briefly talked about a push for women entering the trades, and I thought, "You know what? Let's give this a shot."

On my first visit to the trade union office, the union rep walked me through the compensation packages, benefits, and four-year carpentry apprenticeship programs. I'm in a lucky position where I don't have kids or own a home, so I started to feel really great about this opportunity.

I had to provide documents to the trade union and complete a 10-hour construction course on the OSHA website that cost $60.

Finding an apprenticeship has been the trickiest part

To get sponsored for an apprenticeship, I was instructed by the rep to visit active construction sites listed by the trade union and speak with the foremen.

It made me really nervous, but I went to seven construction sites in one week. It was confusing, at times, because there was no real direction. Sometimes, there would be an address of an entire casino, but no information about where the construction site was. It took a lot of problem-solving, but the nice thing is that the union has a lot of people to talk to, and they can give tips and tricks.

A lot of times, the foreman was really busy, so I had to use my people skills to find the right time to jump in and give them a quick pitch.

I'd take about 30 seconds to introduce myself as a new apprentice and see if they had any opportunities. I thought I had an opportunity, but it turned out their program hours weren't compatible with the union's, so I'm back to showing up at job sites.

It's been almost a month, and I'm still not sponsored

I'm interested in millwork, but it seems to be in a slow period right now. To make sure I get an apprenticeship, I'm taking down the foremen's phone numbers and setting reminders for myself to call them later this year when more jobs pop up.

I can technically look for work in specific scopes outside of millwork, and it would count toward my apprenticeship. However, I'm not pinched for cash immediately, and I'd really prefer to land a millwork job to start.

I'm glad I'm getting into the trades in my 30s

When I finally decided to join carpentry, I was bummed out, thinking, I wish I had joined when I was younger. In hindsight, I'm glad I'm bringing all of my life experiences with me.

The trades are male-dominated, and it's hard work. I think I had to spend over 10 years in my professional career to understand my boundaries, know when to push back, and stand up for myself. If I had joined the trades when I was 18, I don't think I would've made it.

I also now know that the corporate route is 100% not for me. If I had gone into the trades first, part of me would have always wondered if I should've tried corporate.

I'm confident in my decision to leave tech

I'm so overjoyed about my decision to pursue carpentry. Even though I know unions aren't perfect, I'm looking forward to being a part of a system of employment that's worker-first.

I went to my first union meeting, which was the biggest culture shock. It's so cool to have dedicated time for people from different organizations to talk, share experiences, and offer support. I almost cried during that meeting. I was like, "I've never felt so supported."

I've only just begun this journey, so we'll see how it goes, but I'm so excited.

Do you have a story to share about joining the trades? If so, please reach out to the reporter at tmartinelli@businessinsider.com.

• Coast FIRE is one of several offshoots of the FIRE movement.
• It allows investors to ease up on retirement contributions once their existing portfolio is on track for retirement.
• It's an option for people seeking work flexibility, but don't necessarily want to save super aggressively.

The classic FIRE movement — short for "financial independence, retire early" — has long had a reputation for extremes: save aggressively, invest diligently, and build a portfolio large enough to leave work years before traditional retirement age.

The ideas behind FIRE are often traced to the 1992 book, "Your Money or Your Life," and were later amplified by blogs, podcasts, and online communities. At its most intense, FIRE can mean saving or investing the majority of one's income, adding multiple income streams, taking on extra work, or delaying major life milestones such as marriage or children.

But financial independence does not have to mean a life of deprivation.

Business Insider has spoken with numerous investors who want more flexible schedules and more control over their time, but who also want to "enjoy today," as Andy and Nicole Hill put it. For the Hills, pursuing traditional FIRE created tension at home. Eventually, they pivoted to a less extreme offshoot of the movement: Coast FIRE.

Andy Hill describes Coast FIRE as a "middle ground" strategy — a way to capture some of the benefits of financial independence, such as stepping back from a demanding corporate career, without the aggressive savings requirements of traditional FIRE.

"It works well for families, works well for couples, works well for people who aren't multi-six-figure earners," he said. "And I wish I had known about that a lot earlier."

Amberly Grant fell into that category. For most of her career, she did not earn six figures. At 19, she left the small Canadian town where she grew up and spent years traveling while picking up odd jobs along the way.

"I've cleaned houses, walked dogs, worked in bars and restaurants. I've taught English in Thailand, and I've helped a friend with a nutrition and Pilates studio in Sydney," Grant told BI. "I basically just traveled the world and did odd jobs, and the accumulation of all the money was about $15,000 a year on average."

Traditional FIRE may have felt out of reach, but Coast FIRE wasn't. Grant said she hit her Coast FIRE number in her mid-30s.

What is Coast FIRE?

Coast FIRE is one of several offshoots of the FIRE movement, alongside Lean FIRE, Fat FIRE, and Barista FIRE.

Achieving Coast FIRE means an investor has enough saved and invested that, in theory, they no longer need to contribute to retirement accounts. The money they already have invested is expected to compound over time and grow into the amount they will need by retirement.

That does not mean they stop working. It means they only need to earn enough to cover their current expenses while their portfolio continues growing in the background. For some people, that can create room to take a pay cut, change careers, work for themselves, scale back to part-time, or choose less stressful work.

To figure out a Coast FIRE number, investors generally start with a few stats: their current age, ideal retirement age, expected annual spending in retirement, current investments, expected returns, and inflation. Online calculators can help estimate how much someone needs to invest today for that money to grow into a sufficient retirement balance later.

Hill, who quit a stressful, time-intensive corporate job after reaching his $550,000 Coast FIRE number, cautions that the figure is still only an estimate.

"Nothing with investing is guaranteed," said the family finance coach who now works about 20 hours a week on his own business, Marriage Kids and Money.

That's why he recommends checking the math over time. Investors should account for inflation, fund expense ratios, financial advisor fees, and the difference between nominal returns and real returns. Coast FIRE is also not a binding rule. Someone who reaches it can always keep contributing to retirement accounts if their goals or life circumstances change.

Grant is doing exactly that. Technically, she only needs to work enough to cover her expenses, but she is still contributing to her nest egg because she wants the option to retire before 60.

She's learned to accept that life is not linear.

"You might be aiming towards 'Coast FIRE' or 'Fat FIRE' or FIRE, but life will happen, and it's OK to pivot."

• After suffering a rugby injury at 17, Morgan Purnell decided to get into reselling vintage clothes.
• He made £142,235 ($191,241) in 2025, with Vinted accounting for the biggest portion of sales.
• Purnell uses social media to promote his business, and AI to streamline processes.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Morgan Purnell, a 20-year-old entrepreneur who runs a vintage-clothing resale business and is based in Surrey, UK. It's been edited for length and clarity.

My dream when I was a kid was to play professional rugby. But when I tore 2 ligaments in my right knee when I was 17, it knocked me out of rugby for about a year and a half. My entire identity was stripped overnight.

At that time, I saw a Google ad for Vintage Wholesale Supply, where you can buy vintage items in bulk. I had about £400 ($537) saved from working a part-time job in a sports center, and bought 50 kilos of Ralph Lauren trousers for around £200 ($268).

Within that first month, I had sold around 70 pairs of Ralph Lauren chinos on Depop and Vinted and used TikTok to promote my page. I bought each pair for about £4 ($5.37) each and sold them for between £20 and £30 each ($27 and $40).

That was the start of my journey in July 2024, and what drove my spark. I thought I might as well keep reinvesting.

I was working non-stop at first

At the very beginning, I would work nonstop — seven days a week, probably 12 hours a day, just because that was all I could think about.

I was at boarding school, so I had some of the stock in my bedroom at school. I had some of it in my car and some at home, too. So it was a bit of a juggle.

In my first year of reselling, I started documenting my journey on TikTok. For instance, I launched a series about turning £400 ($533) into £10,000 ($13,340).

I took on two boys I knew from my local area to help with the business, and I paid them for tasks such as ironing and photographing the stock.

About three or four months in, in September 2024, Vinted saw a huge uptick. Everyone sort of jumped in, flooded it, and things started selling really well. So I transitioned to mainly selling there.

We made nearly $200,000 in 2025

The original plan was to study business management and marketing at the University of Bath. I felt like it was what my parents wanted me to do because it was the safer option.

However, I had proven to them that my business would generate enough to allow me to live and earn at least what a graduate would.

I decided I was going to do a year out, and if I could make it work, I would keep doing it.

In 2025, we made £142,235 ($191,241) in revenue, including from partnerships, such as social media content for wholesalers. Vinted sales made up £85,873 ($115,442) of this.

I was able to build up a following on social media and start to use that to sell some reseller bundles, which involve supplying bulk to other resellers. I now source from suppliers in Karachi, Pakistan. That's been a real blessing because I can put out a story if I'm in trouble and shift stock fairly quickly.

Income fluctuates a lot with reselling. In the six months to December 2025, monthly sales ranged from a low of £3,709 ($4,984) in March to a high of £20,403 ($27,418) in December.

Juggling inventory

Thanks to AI, I have better inventory management systems. I use Aistetic, which turns product photos into marketplace-ready listings. I have also made content for them.

I also use ChatGPT to organize my data and sold items in one place, which makes it much easier to manage inventory across three to four sites.

I now use a mix of Vinted, Depop, and eBay. They complement each other well because eBay is a platform where you generally sell at a slower pace, but it has a more mature demographic with more disposable income.
So, you tend to get better prices on eBay.

Vinted is great for selling quickly, though at lower prices. I feel like you could list a bottle of water on Vinted and probably sell it if you set the price right. I kind of compare Depop to Instagram and Vinted to TikTok.

The best part is the freedom

At the moment, it's just me working on the reselling businesses. I spend five or six hours a day on reselling alone, but never work on Sundays. I never work on Sundays, I go to church and spend time with my family.

The benefit of being an entrepreneur will always come down to freedom — the freedom of choice, the freedom to go to work when you want, the freedom to leave work and go to the gym when you want, and not having that pressure.

I've never been thriving so much.

• Josh Giegel joined SpaceX in 2009 and worked there for 3 years. He says the equity he received has been "liberating."
• Giegel's SpaceX equity has allowed him to put a down payment on a house and help pay off his wife's student loans.
• "The equity also allows me to take a lower salary at my startup," Gambit, he said, and that means he can hire more people.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Josh Giegel, the 41-year-old cofounder of the AI startup Gambit, who lives in Los Angeles. It's been edited for length and clarity.

I was in grad school at Stanford, finishing my master's and wanting to do a Ph.D.

I had worked at NASA the previous summer, and one of the women I worked with was also a Stanford graduate, and was like: "You're going to be so bored at NASA. Why don't you check out this small space company in Los Angeles called SpaceX?"

I applied and interviewed in the two weeks between flight three and flight four of Falcon 1. I interviewed with Elon; he was still interviewing pretty much everyone at the time. I remember going back to my advisor and saying, "There's nothing I'd rather do on the planet than what he just described."

My Master's ended at the end of 2008, and I began in 2009.

I was on what's called the propulsion analysis team, which was four or five people. Our responsibility was: How do you design the first reusable rocket engine? A very small group of us was responsible for the initial stuff that was on Falcon 9.

I started there when I was 23, and I left when I was 27. It was a little bit of naive immaturity. I knew I wanted to start a company one day, and SpaceX was growing like crazy. I wanted to be on a founding team. I still love the company; I almost went back two or three years later before I ended up starting a company of my own.

The IPO is pretty cool. I'm on a bunch of text threads with guys who were there around the same time, and a couple of them are still there. It's cool to see just how big it became.

When I got there, and they gave the offer, there was an equity component. I remember the HR woman who was going over it with me saying, "We think some day, in 10 or 15 years, this might be worth $250,000-300,000." I distinctly remember her saying, "It might get you a nice down payment on a house in Los Angeles."

We all laugh about it now. But, at the time, the saying was: the fastest way to become a millionaire in space is to start as a billionaire.

Buybacks have been really regular for the last 10 years. Every now and then, we'd take a little bit out. For example, we paid off my wife's student loans a number of years ago. We put down a down payment on a house.

I joke: We did actually get a down payment on a house! She wasn't lying when she said that. It's a house that, on our normal salaries at startups, we wouldn't have been able to afford without that additional windfall.

We also love traveling. We've got a seven-year-old and a one-year-old. We're going to go on slightly more adventurous trips because of it.

My wife is also thinking of doing a larger career change that would come with a decent salary reduction, which she probably wouldn't have been able to do without something like SpaceX.

Professionally, I've always been risky. If the majority of your net worth is tied up in a rocket company, you must be a risk-tolerant individual.

Gambit is a VC-backed company. We've raised about $15 million to date, and there are a couple more investment rounds that are coming. The IPO puts you in a position where folks with a substantial amount of equity could be interested in becoming investors.

At least ten of the people I worked with intimately have started their own company. There was a band that I played in with five SpaceX people; four of us started our own companies. I played guitar.

That whole ecosystem can fund its own endeavors and each other. The quantum of capital that they can put in is not like your typical family and friends round. That's typically $20,000, $50,000, maybe $100,000. Here, that could be on the order of $1 million, maybe $2 million per check.

You also become a bit of a mercenary, asking, "I don't need a paycheck from what I'm going to go do, so what am I going to go do?" It's liberating.

The equity also allows me to take a lower salary at my startup, so that I can go out and hire more people to make my company more successful.

• Founders and workplace experts said that post-pandemic AI startups have a different work dynamic.
• AI startup employees often voluntarily come to the office and work longer hours without an RTO.
• Founders said that in-person work fosters a high-trust environment that spurs innovation.

"What is an RTO?"

That was Together AI CEO Vipul Ved Prakash's response when asked by Business Insider whether he had ever had to send a return-to-work (RTO) memo to push employees back to the office of the cloud compute startup.

"People generally like to come in," said Prakash. "We've never enforced it."

Prakash's response illustrates a stark cultural difference between AI startups formed after the COVID lockdowns and long-established corporations, with people voluntarily coming to the office, sometimes on weekends.

Nicholas Bloom, an economics professor at Stanford University, told Business Insider that the age demographics and personal stake many startup employees have in their companies created a work mode that is "almost entirely in-person" and "100% work focused."

"For a single 23-year-old with equity worth $20 million, it makes sense to work in the office for 100 hours a week," said Bloom. "They don't work from home, they home from work."

The tight-knit culture of AI startups

Arvind Jain, founder and CEO of Glean, an enterprise AI for productivity, said he "was not eager" to bring his team members back to the office because finding an office is a hassle, but everyone wanted to be in person and return to their original mode of working when the company first started right before the pandemic in 2019.

"We just simply didn't know how to work from home because everybody was in this one small room," said Jain of the early days of the pandemic lockdown. "We used to be sitting next to each other, brainstorming what to build, and so we found that very, very hard."

Over time, said Jain, he learned to enjoy remote work and got to spend time with his family, but the team genuinely wanted to be together again.

"That's the difference — there's this startup spirit, and it's only 10, 15 people, and we want to be with each other," said Jain. "They love each other, they bond with each other, we used to play games together, and we have very fond pre-pandemic memories as a close-knit group."

Jain said that as Glean grew more rapidly in recent years, it has since moved into a larger office space and dedicated Thursday as its work-from-home day.

Spiros Xanthos, founder and CEO of Resolve AI, an enterprise technology startup that builds multi-agent AI systems, said the company has a "very strong culture" of in-person work and has never had to ask anyone to be in the office.

"We have a fairly big office now, and we have breakfast, lunch, and dinner," said Xanthos. "Most people have lunch in the office together with their colleagues, and many people stay to have dinner in the office."

Xanthos said that since founding the company in early 2024, "cohesion and culture and friendship" among employees has been critical for the company, and that he often brings colleagues based in New York to the Bay Area for offsite retreats so the team could get to know each other better.

"People will actively avoid working remotely at this point," Xanthos added. "Especially for some of the younger folks who didn't have many years of experience, but maybe worked remotely before this, many of them tell me it's day and night — the fact that they have so many friends at work now that they can trust."

AI's innovative nature demands in-person interactions

Richard Florida, an urban studies theorist and professor at the University of Toronto, said the AI wave has unique characteristics compared to other startup booms, which may generate greater in-person demand.

"Innovators have to be close to end users because end users are a part of the innovation system," said Florida, of why it's easier to work in person in the AI industry.

"If you're an AI company, the technology itself is interesting, and you can invent it, but what you really learn is by interaction with the end user, by interacting with your customers and clients," Florida added.

Xanthos said the demand for in-person attendance ultimately boils down to the nature of an innovative industry.

"As a company, we're solving very, very hard problems, and to solve these problems, you operate at the frontier," said Xanthos. "And this means that you need to experiment a lot, try a lot of things that might fail."

"That in turn requires a very high trust in an environment of psychological safety where people feel that they have the ability to innovate bottom up," Xanthos added, "Where they don't need to be told what to do, where there is communication velocity and bandwidth."

So the next time you speak to an AI startup founder, don't ask how their RTO is going — they're probably too busy trying to squeeze everyone into the office.

• Christina Nicolson is the mother of 11-year-old Landon Nicholson. They live in Wellington, Florida.
• Landon approached her about starting a vending machine business over a year ago.
• Christina, a business owner herself, shares what it's been like so far.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Christina Nicholson, the mother of Landon Nicholson. It has been edited for length and clarity.

My son, Landon, and I own a vending machine together. We started when he was 10, over a year ago. Landon got the idea for his vending machine business at one of his sister's basketball games. He was helping at the concession stand during a Wellington Wolves tournament and started noticing just how many people wanted snacks and drinks.

That was the moment the lightbulb went off. First, he wanted to have a candy store, and I said, "Let's start smaller."

I'm a business owner, so I was game to do it

Landon has always wanted to make his own money. Maybe it's because he's seen me do it; I started my own media company right after he was born. He's always seen me be my own boss and seen the flexibility that comes with that. To start, we got a book and watched some YouTube videos to learn about it.

First, we had to find a spot for it. He was taking acting lessons at our community center during the summer, and he went to the front desk and asked if they had a vending machine. They said that they used to, but didn't anymore. He said, "Do you want one? That's my business."

They gave him the contact person, and we set up a meeting with the village of Wellington. We put together a proposal that included what we'd put in there and how much we would sell it for, and they okayed it. They had a contract. The agreement was that 26% of the commission would go to them, and Landon and I would split the profits 50/50.

In September of 2024, we bought a vending machine for $1,500 and had it shipped for $843. We also purchased a credit card reader for $385, bought $265 worth of items from Costco, and put $17 in change in the machine to start.

We're still in the hole, but have learned some important lessons

The community center is not very busy. We're not splitting profits yet, but I still think it's been worthwhile.

A big lesson for him was that just because you make money, it doesn't mean it's your money. For example, the first time we went to the vending machine to get money, he was so excited to have all the dollar bills. But I told him that we had to pay the machine off, that 26% goes to the village of Wellington for letting us put our machine in there, and so on. He quickly learned the difference between revenue and profit.

He was also very excited at the beginning of this to go and check on it once a week. He liked to see what needed filling up, what people were liking, and so on. Now, he's not as excited to go. He still enjoys doing it, but that initial excitement has worn off.

I'm being patient with him

Sometimes, you just have to be patient. We're almost there. I encourage him to review the numbers every month; I'll print out the P&L for him to see. He's very impatient, but I remind him that to make a business work, you have to work.

He's learning different business models, how much time they take, and how busy you are going to be. This has been good because of his age; he goes to the community center and checks on it once a week for 15 minutes. He also likes to see what's working. He still asks me every once in a while if he's making money yet.

I wasn't expecting his confidence. It really impressed me. He walked right up to the community center's front desk, asked if they wanted a vending machine, and came home with a business card. I love that he's not afraid. I think this experience will help him with the confidence to start more businesses.

• As a kid, Brian Winch helped his father clean parking lots to support their family.
• Years later, he turned it into a business, and his brothers joined in.
• Now, he helps others learn about "America's Simplest Business," carrying on his dad's legacy.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Brian Winch, the founder of Clean Lots. The following has been edited for length and clarity.

As a young kid, I watched my parents work hard to keep food on the table. What is now called picking up a few side hustles was then just a way of life: they'd head to second, or even third jobs, to ensure we could make ends meet.

As one of three boys, once we became teenagers, we found ourselves helping too. So, it wasn't a surprise when my dad told me we were going to head out at the crack of dawn to clean trash from business parking lots.

While some kids today might hate everything about this, that wasn't how I was raised. My parents never complained about their lot as poor, working-class people doing what they needed to do. And I far from hated it. In fact, I found it peaceful to wake up early, watch the sunrise, and help a business owner clear their parking lot so it looked fresh and clean when their customers arrived.

Better yet, I was with my dad, something most 12-year-olds love deep down.

My father inspired me to start a simple business

My Dad's name was Joseph Winch, and he was a World War II refugee immigrant from Poland to where I grew up, in Calgary. He'd worked on the kill floor at a meatpacking plant when he got here. He'd laid track for the railroad. He'd been a hospital orderly.

When I was 21, my father died suddenly. I didn't have time to tell him that while my friends headed for other careers, I was secretly considering following his footsteps.

Deep in grief but motivated to make a path for myself, I started reaching out to properties to offer cleanup services. I established Winch Janitorial Services, which later became Winch Enterprises.

I now run Clean Lots, where I am also an author, educating others on what I call "America's Simplest Business." In a tech-fueled world, it's one that has remained AI-proof, as no robot can, as of now, truly scour the entire property for every little cigarette butt in the bushes and hard-to-reach places.

Around 45 years later, I'm not only proud of the career I've built helping others, but grateful I pursued my father's legacy over those other career options.

My family works alongside me

A few years into my janitorial career, where I'd make sure every last piece of trash was out of the bushes and owners knew if any fresh graffiti had been added to their buildings overnight, my two twin brothers started getting involved.

They both helped with their specific talents: the one who operated a forklift helped with cleanup, and the other focused on the project bidding and outreach.

We scaled to over $700,000 per year. Working with my brothers has gone better than some would expect — in fact, it's a way to keep the family together through the years.

But the family member I didn't expect to feel walking alongside me was my dad. Some days, I can sense his presence in the parking lots right next to me.

I've even heard him speaking to me in my head: "Brian, take a few steps that way." Once, I followed this voice and found a wallet. At first, I thought I was crazy, but that day I realized how real it is.

I want to help others find the same success in a simple business

After building my career, I realized I wanted to mentor others through their own business builds in this industry.

One high school teacher in Chicago built his business to make money during the summers off and, after partnering with some buddies, grew it to operate in multiple states.

Through these stories, I realized my father's legacy — and now my own — was never about trash; it was about being of service to others.

• In 2023, I graduated into a volatile job market, but thankfully, I landed a job.
• I was living in New York, with an inordinately high cost of living, which made staying untenable.
• Moving to Texas, with its much lower cost of living, allowed me to succeed.

After graduating with a bachelor's in computer science in 2023, a software company offered me an exciting job that paid $60,000 a year.

The catch? I had to move away from home.

I had grown up on Long Island all my life, but the company didn't have an office within commuting distance of my parents' house. Moving felt daunting. Moving across the country? Even more so.

But I felt like I had no choice because of the difficult job market and the rising costs in New York, so I packed up and moved to Texas.

The East Coast was nearly impossible to afford

I did the math. The average rent for an apartment in most East Coast states is $2,000 to $3,000 a month.

Over the course of a year, on average, that would be $30,000. This was half of my annual income — before accounting for any other expenses.

New York State income taxes are also high, plus there's federal tax on top. Already, with back-of-the-napkin math, I found that I would be left with less than half of my annual salary before accounting for food, insurance premiums, utilities, and rainy-day savings.

After all that, there would be next to nothing left for student loan repayments, and I wouldn't be able to save any money to eventually buy a house.

Texas was the much cheaper option

Researching my options, I learned the company had an office in San Antonio. As I researched this unfamiliar city, what I found astounded me.

Even in a large city like San Antonio, rent averages $1,000 to $1,500 a month. Texas also has no state income tax.

I would have significantly more of my annual income to spend and save if I lived in Texas with the same job.

I decided to move across the country to Texas

Though the numbers were promising, I had never been south of Virginia until my move. I had no clue what San Antonio was like and had no family or friends there for support.

I found my apartment in this new, unfamiliar city remotely. I scanned Google Maps. I made a list of apartments with ideal locations and read their tenants' reviews. I focused on ones with two to four stars to avoid being misled.

As part of my research, I looked at crime statistics. I was happy to see it was very low. I then narrowed my commute down to five minutes.

I'm financially comfortable in Texas

After the move, I paid about $1,250 a month for a 700-square-foot, one-bedroom apartment with an in-home washer & dryer, community gym, and pool.

There is a rule in personal finance called the 50/30/20 rule. Ideally, you should spend 50% on needs, 30% on wants, and save 20% of what you earn. Living in Texas, I easily spent less than 50% on needs and saved more than 40% of what I earned.

All of that would not have been possible on the East Coast at my entry-level, new-grad salary.

Lastly, home prices in Texas are much lower, so my goal of homeownership finally felt achievable.

I made my cross-country move work for me

As a new graduate, I faced a market with low salary expectations, frequent mass layoffs, and high job volatility.

I made it work by moving away from a state with a high cost of living to one offering a 50% discount on life.

New graduates and early professionals may find success doing the same.

• Business Insider asked six tech workers which task they're saving the most time on with AI.
• Some workers said AI has turned tasks that once took hours into minutes.
• Others said the productivity gains haven't necessarily led to shorter workdays.

Ask a tech worker how AI has changed their jobs, and chances are they'll answer with a single number: hours saved.

In interviews with Business Insider, Big Tech software engineers, product managers, and data scientists described using AI to compress hours of work into minutes. They use it to draft documents, summarize months of meetings, review code, automate reports, and more.

Faster doesn't always mean easier, however. One Amazon data scientist said AI is adding hours to his workweek as he builds the automation systems that should eventually save him time. Another Amazon employee said any time saved is quickly redirected to the next project.

Here's how six tech workers said AI is saving them the most time. (Their responses have been edited for length and clarity.)

The time AI saves me gets reinvested into the next problem

Priyanka Devi Ramesh is a business intelligence engineer at Amazon. She's 30 and lives in Virginia.

Document writing is where AI has had the greatest impact. With the help of an AI tool called Pippin, it's become easy to translate my thoughts about the projects I'm working on into polished documents that can be technical or customer-facing. This saves a massive amount of time — I spend hardly 15 to 20 minutes max to write and finalize a document that would have previously taken me well over an hour.

On the technical side, I use Kiro and Amazon Quick. Kiro is great for brainstorming ideas and making logic updates in minutes. I'm building agents within Amazon Quick to automate common customer questions about dashboards and to surface insights from data.

AI hasn't reduced my work time. We're constantly looking for ways to clean up messy data and finding opportunities to automate wherever possible — so the time saved in one area gets reinvested into the next problem.

AI helps me make sense of months of meetings at Google

Prerit Pathak is a security engineer at Google. He's 27 and lives in New York City.

I use Gemini for a variety of purposes, but recently it has bolstered my note-taking.

I used to take shorthand notes during meetings to record interesting or important information. Now, I let Gemini take notes on my work calls, and the improvement has been incredible. A summarization task — such as understanding what happened over the previous six months — that once would have taken one to two hours now takes five to 10 minutes.

I'm working longer hours now, so AI can save me time later

Sarthak Gupta is a data scientist at Amazon. He's 29 and lives in Seattle.

AI has been most helpful with building end-to-end automation pipelines for recurring workflows.

It used to take 8 to 10 hours over a couple of days to create a monthly stakeholder report that involved pulling data, cleaning it, generating visualizations, and writing the summary. Now, an AI pipeline handles the data pulls, transformations, and dashboard refreshes. I spend maybe 45 minutes reviewing the output and adding context before sending it out.

However, my overall working hours right now are running longer than normal. The reason is that we're in the middle of an automation phase. Building the pipelines, integrating the AI tooling, validating outputs, and onboarding all of this into existing workflows is front-loaded work, and that upfront investment is real. The payoff comes later, when the same task that took a couple of days collapses into a button click.

So in the short term, AI is actually adding hours to my week, not subtracting them. I'd expect that to flip once the foundational pipelines are stable and the automation is doing the heavy lifting on its own.

AI helps me turn messy ideas into polished plans

Tanvi Pisal is a UX designer working as a contractor for Apple via Red Oak Technologies. She's 29 and lives in San Jose.

One of the biggest ways AI saves me time is in early-stage product thinking and documentation.

As a product designer, I used to spend hours drafting product requirement documents, brainstorming user stories, mapping edge cases, outlining use scenarios, and refining ideation before I even got to visual design.

Now, I can start with rough notes or a messy draft, and AI helps turn that into a much more structured document in minutes. What used to take me three to four hours can often be reduced to 30 minutes with feedback and refinements.

AI gets me to the starting line faster at Amazon

Udit Mehrotra is a head of product at Amazon. He's in his 30s and lives in Seattle.

Writing product documents is where I've seen the biggest change. Every major initiative at Amazon starts with a written document, and for years, the first hour or two of that process was building scaffolding: setting up the structure, filling in the sections you know by heart, and building something worth reacting to before you could get to the actual thinking.

Now I can use AI to input the customer problem and constraints and get a solid first draft in minutes. What surprises me is that it's often more comprehensive than what I'd have written on my own under time pressure.

Getting from 80% to 100% is still where the real work lives, and AI doesn't change that. The strategic judgment, the tradeoffs between what customers need and what's technically feasible, the decisions that require years of accumulated context about a specific customer problem — that thinking still takes the same depth and care it always did.

What has changed is that I arrive at the starting line faster, with a more complete structure to react to and push against. The quality of the final document is often better as a result, not because AI did the hard thinking, but because I spent more of my time on it.

What used to take a week can now take a day

Iren Azra Zou is a software engineer at the trucking logistics startup Double Nickel. She's in her 20s and lives in New Jersey.

I use AI, mostly Claude Code, for the majority of my coding. It's honestly hard to quantify the time savings; it feels like what used to take a week can now take a day.

We also rely heavily on AI to review and provide feedback on code, unless a change is particularly risky. That alone saves a huge amount of time. Instead of waiting days for human reviews, you get multiple rounds of feedback within hours. It also means I spend less time reviewing others' code, which probably saves me several hours each week.

There are tradeoffs — less human review can have downsides. But right now, the speed of iteration and innovation is incredibly valuable for us.

Do you have a story to share about how you're navigating a career crossroads? If so, please reach out to the reporter via email at jzinkula@businessinsider.com, or via Signal at jzinkula.29.

• Alexandra Frost is a former teacher who lives in Ohio and has five children.
• During each pregnancy, she faced logistical challenges due to maternity leave rules.
• Self-employment gave her more flexibility, but it blurred the lines between work and parental leave.

I was 38 weeks pregnant when I stopped being able to walk, at age 28, with my first child of five.

I remember the exact moment, standing in a long hallway, where I couldn't race back to my class where 30 high school kids sat waiting for instruction. I grabbed a rolling chair from a nearby classroom and inched my way back from the bathroom, sitting.

I'd developed a painful pelvic bone condition, and I thought for sure I'd be sent home to bed for the rest of my pregnancy.

But that's not what happened next. Instead, I got a call from HR, detailing my options. I could stop working now — since I couldn't walk and all — but that would count as starting maternity leave early. And that would mean two fewer weeks I'd get to spend with my baby.

So I rolled from student to student in that same chair for the next three weeks, until I delivered my baby overdue.

This was the beginning of my abrupt education into the world of maternity leave, and how policies, procedures, and the workplace dictate what's best for you — not your body, your mind, or even your doctor.

Over the decade that followed, I'd go on to have four more babies, work for multiple employers, and experience multiple parental leave policies. Each one shaped the story of my pregnancy, birth, and motherhood in different ways — some that I valued, and some I'd like to forget.

Baby 1: Toughing out the last weeks of pregnancy for a longer leave

Data from around that same time showed a growing trend of moms working right up until birth, a fear I had with my first child — would my water literally break at a student's feet? It's also why, in education, many teachers try to strategically conceive their babies to line up with school breaks.

In 2014, I learned on leave from my first baby that it was the first of many decisions I'd make as a new mom that involved choosing between my own health and well-being or my child's, who benefited from having me home longer after birth. Ultimately, I was glad to have prolonged the start of my maternity leave as long as I could to get the most healing time possible before heading back to work.

Baby 2: Arbitrary leave rules with big impact

Around 18 short months later, I was back in the delivery room in 2016, and navigating leave with another school district. This one had a unique rule that didn't quite make sense to me — if you had banked 12 weeks of sick leave, you could use all 12 for maternity leave, but only six of those could be paid. As a young working mother now with two babies, also married to an educator, this meant going six weeks without pay to get the most time off with my new baby, while trying to pay for our $4,000 hospital bill and double the diapers.

I called HR multiple times to clarify. Clearly, I'd heard wrong that if I had the sick time that I'd saved up, I couldn't use it still for paid time off? Except I hadn't. Their justification was that they had to make sure we had enough "extra" sick time in our bank so that we wouldn't be in a bind if we or our kids got sick. And here I was thinking it was my decision when and how to use my own sick time.

It taught me that the system isn't really built for moms' or babies' needs; it's for the benefit and convenience of the business, corporations, and districts where we work.

Baby 3: Revolving a leave around benefits

My third child arrived within weeks of a job change in 2018. If I had the baby, due ironically on Labor Day, before the start of a new month, I'd have a certain set of leave benefits. If I had the baby after, I'd have a different set, including insurance with a deductible that would reset. The timing was bizarre.

In this birth, I made the decision to be induced early to reap the massive financial and leave benefits I'd accrued at my first job — I'd met my deductible and the birth would be free if the baby came in time. Induction before the body is ready can come with a slew of risks, I found out. It soon turned into a hellish 28-hour labor, with a failed induction that wouldn't progress and I couldn't turn back from.

I learned that I could try to play God and manipulate my circumstances for financial gain and convenience, but that the body and the baby don't follow your best laid plans. In another world, both employers would have had equally great benefits and leave, and the baby could have come when he was ready. I greatly regret how I handled this, and had to work to undo the trauma of this birth that I caused by trying to rush it.

Baby 4: How it was supposed to be

If you have enough babies, eventually, parental leave will go your way. That was the case with my fourth son, in 2021, when I encountered a largely "chill" contact at my employer who was determined to infuse as much flexibility as possible around the company's standard leave practices.

Late in the pregnancy, when my pelvic pain returned, I was able to take up to five regular sick days off consecutively at a time without them counting toward official leave. This meant I could work for a day, take five days, and repeat — which I did, a handful of times — making the end of pregnancy much less stressful and painful.

I learned from this leave that encountering a contact or boss who would allow the policies to stretch as far as possible to benefit the people who need it. Though real nationwide change would be better, this was a step in the right direction.

Baby 5: Self-employment…better, but worse

A few years into parenting four sons, I quit teaching to establish my own writing, content marketing, and strategy business. I was now my own boss — so the policies better be good, right? Turns out, it's not as easy to take leave as a business owner as I thought.

When it was time to have my fifth baby, I had clients on retainers and editors with deadlines. I had a subcontractor who was luckily loyal and helpful who helped me navigate this. But around a month in, even with the help of a few part time, remote assistants, the emails, projects, and missed opportunities were piling up. I tried to walk the line as carefully as possible to avoid missing opportunities for the sake of full-time bonding with my baby. In reality, this meant only five weeks truly off.

From there, the lines blurred between leave and flexible work. I'd sneak in some work at naptime to keep the bank accounts balanced. I'd work as I nursed a fussing toddler during witching hour in the evenings. I worried as a mom of five about the choice to take time off at the expense of our finances. But in the end, I was in control, which felt better.

From this leave, I learned that maybe I didn't need super long leaves; I just needed choice. I didn't regret going back to work "early" when it was my own decision, not being forced on me by an employer or policy.

Do you have a story to share about your career? Contact this editor, Debbie Strong, at dstrong@businessinsider.com.

• Apollo's chief economist said there's "zero evidence of AI-related job losses."
• A parade of tech leaders celebrated that take over the weekend.
• At least a dozen major companies, meanwhile, have cited AI in their decision to lay off workers this year.

Anyone worried that AI will replace them should take a deep breath, at least according to Apollo Global Management's chief economist.

In a blog post on Friday, Torsten Sløk said there is "zero evidence of job losses because of AI," citing the ADP National Employment Report. Instead, he said, companies are hiring candidates who have AI skills.

"Many firms are hiring AI implementation experts, and the data center buildout is putting upward pressure on salaries for AI experts and on prices of semiconductors, equipment, and energy," Sløk said. "The bottom line is that the AI spending boom is stoking both employment and inflation."

Sløk echoed that sentiment in an April blog post, writing that "cheaper inputs don't shrink industries. Instead, AI is going to increase both productivity and employment."

The latest ADP report found that private companies added almost 110,000 more people to their payrolls in April.

Anxiety that AI will eradicate the average job is everywhere, stoked in part by those behind the technology. While Anthropic CEO Dario Amodei and OpenAI CEO Sam Altman have recently changed their tune as they gear up for their respective IPOs, they have both warned for years that AI could upend entire job categories. Amodei famously said last year that AI could wipe out half of all entry-level white-collar jobs.

Sløk's analysis resonated with some figures in the AI industry, including Box CEO Aaron Levie, Dell CEO Michael Dell, and White House AI and Crypto Czar David Sacks, who all agreed with his view in X posts over the weekend. David Solomon, CEO of Goldman Sachs, also made a similar argument last week in a New York Times opinion piece.

An EY survey of 240 financial service CEOs, meanwhile, found that about 60% thought investing in AI would maintain or increase their staff head count in 2026.

These optimistic takes, however, seem to clash with recent reality. At least a dozen major companies have cited AI as a factor in staff layoffs this year. In February, Block CEO Jack Dorsey said the company was slashing its workforce from over 10,000 to under 6,000.

"We're already seeing that the intelligence tools we're creating and using, paired with smaller and flatter teams, are enabling a new way of working which fundamentally changes what it means to build and run a company," Dorsey said in a memo shared to X. "i had two options: cut gradually over months or years as this shift plays out, or be honest about where we are and act on it now."

Cisco, Atlassian, Cloudflare, Coinbase, IBM, and Snap are also among the companies that have cited AI as a reason for layoffs.

Nvidia CEO Jensen Huang, one of the pillars of the AI industry, has criticized companies that blame AI for layoffs. "I think the narrative that connects AI to job loss for many of the CEOs that are doing it is just too lazy," Huang told a media outlet in Singapore last week.

Altman has called the practice of blaming AI to reduce staff "AI washing."

In his blog post on Friday, Sløk said that, in his view, the current employment climate is an example of the "Jevons paradox," an economic theory that says as new technology increases the efficiency of a resource, the more that resource is consumed.

In this case, that resource would be human workers.

"It is Jevons paradox playing out in real time: cheaper technology is creating more demand and more jobs," Sløk wrote.

• I was laid off after 10 years working at the media company.
• I'm unemployed in my 50s and can't find a job; instead, I'm doing side gigs.
• I wonder where I fit in the current job market as an unemployed 50-something-year-old.

I was one of the first Twitter "influencers" back before it even had an app. When Facebook launched pages, I was the first gay journalist to have one after they helped me set one up, complete with the blue "verified" checkmark that actually meant something before they started selling them.

I grew another Facebook page to over a million followers, and the Library of Congress archived my old blog as an important part of the internet.

I spent 20 years helping to build the online journalism ecosystem into what it is today. So why can't I find a job in digital journalism now that I'm unemployed for the first time in 20 years?

I have a sneaking suspicion it's because of my age.

I was laid off after decades in the media business

I started my own site in the early days of blogging, back in 2004. After 10 years, I sold it to a media company and went to work for them.

I stopped focusing on my own social media presence to build the media company's accounts. The publications needed the awards and recognition more than I did, I thought. I invested in them instead of myself.

They laid me off a few days before I'd have been there for 10 years.

I know I'm not the only one. Editors, journalists, and professional copywriters are laid off weekly. LinkedIn is now chock-full of professionals bemoaning that they're on layoff lists.

Many have most likely been replaced with AI programs. AI doesn't want paid holidays, vacation time, or health insurance. It definitely doesn't need to plan for retirement.

I wonder how much my age is factored into my struggles

Now I'm scraping by on Substack subscriptions, monetized social media content, and freelance writing. None of those are 401(k) boosters.

During the one interview I've landed, a person half my age told me that my résumé was impressive, but the follow-up question was, "When do you see yourself retiring?"

When will I retire? When I hit the lottery.

There's a particular type of despair that arises when you realize that you have to justify 20 years' worth of work in one paragraph that will impress an AI bot.

Toss in the fact that I never finished my college degree, and I've got even less of a chance of bypassing the AI screeners who always tell me I forgot to enter my higher education qualifications.

Job listings I'm now seeing require a master's degree and an active TikTok account to land a minimum wage job pitching influencers to shill a corporation's latest product. Sure, I've got thousands of followers across multiple platforms, but have I done the latest TikTok dance trend? That's considered experience now.

Add in that I moved to Mexico City three years ago

Most job listings for remote positions require you to be based in the US. While my bank account is American and I pay American taxes, companies don't want to deal with a cross-border hire.

Now I'm not just older, I'm complicated.

I don't want to retire; I want to pay my bills. I miss leading teams and being useful in a way that feels more immediate.

Until I can again, I tweak résumés, rebuild my social media presence, grow my newsletter, write the best cover letters I can, and hope for the best.

It's been challenging, but I'm hopeful that my best years aren't behind me.

• I went to Las Vegas for a work conference and met my future husband there.
• Within 24 hours, I told him I'd follow him anywhere.
• Thirteen years later, I'm married to him and raising our children in Trinidad and Tobago.

Thirteen years ago, I flew from Atlanta to Las Vegas for a work conference. I thought I was going to learn how to build a business: strategies, contacts, maybe some motivation. I did not know I was walking into the room where I would meet the man I would eventually marry.

I was 25 and tired of dating men who looked good on paper but didn't feel right in real life. From the outside, some of the men I dated seemed impressive: money, status, ambition, the kind of résumés many women are told to want. But something was always missing.

So when I received an invitation to a work conference for a direct-selling business I'd recently joined, I was more than willing to meet someone new.

I was ready to settle down and find my partner

Before the trip, I made changes that felt dramatic at the time. I cut off the locs I'd been growing for more than four years. I stopped dating. I changed the names of several men in my phone to "Do Not Answer." I made a private vow to stop entertaining almost-right men while praying for the right one.

On the flight to Las Vegas, I couldn't sleep, which almost never happens. I kept shifting in my seat, restless in a way I couldn't explain. Eventually, I pulled out my cream-colored journal and jotted down everything I wanted in a husband.

Nine bullet points. Not a fantasy list — an honest reckoning with the kind of man I wanted to love, trust, and follow.

I met my husband while waiting in line at the conference

The next morning, I woke up late. One hour before the conference doors opened, I rushed downstairs in four-inch heels to find the line already wrapped around the corner.

The conference had attracted people from many countries, and the hallway was full of accents. One caught my attention: warm, rhythmic, unfamiliar. A man smiled at me, which was enough of an invitation to make an instant friend. I joined him in line, grateful for the rescue.

We made small talk, but then I looked up and saw another man standing nearby.

Tall. Handsome. A Caribbean rhythm in his voice. Something about him stopped me. It was an immediate knowing — the kind that sounds ridiculous when you say it out loud.

I was looking at my husband.

He was from Trinidad and Tobago and had only arrived in America three days earlier. This was his first time in the US. He wasn't trying to impress me with what he had or who he knew. He was calm, sure of himself, and something about him made me feel safe.

We've since built a life together

The next day, after barely 24 hours, I said something that still shocks me.

"I don't know where Trinidad is on the map," I told him. "But I'll follow you wherever you go."

I meant it. Thirteen years later, I am married to him and raising our children in Trinidad and Tobago. I moved here because it felt like a beautiful place to raise my children.

They get to grow up climbing mango, coconut, and plum trees in our backyard, connected to nature in a way I didn't experience growing up in inner-city Baltimore.

The hardest adjustment has been being far from my immediate family, but the peace and simplicity here have been worth it.

I went to Las Vegas looking for business advice. I left with a future I could never have planned for myself.

• Laura Pollacco was struggling with depression and moved to Japan for two years to teach English.
• After returning home, she realized her career prospects and professional network were stronger in Tokyo, so she moved back.
• Now 31, working as a freelancer, and engaged, she's torn over where to build her future.

At 22, heartbroken, depressed, and unsure about my future, I craved novelty and adventure, so I packed up my life in England and moved to Japan.

Now, 31, living in Tokyo, and more secure than I've ever felt in my adult life, I can't help but feel that creeping depression, pushing me to pack my bags once more.

In my early 20s, upending my life felt exciting. Now, in my 30s, it just feels indecisive.

In 2016, I'd graduated with a degree in fashion photography and was working three part-time jobs in my university town to scrape by while simultaneously trying (and failing) to get over intense heartbreak. I was struggling.

Hobbies like theater and kung fu had lost their shine, my future felt vast and uncertain. I wanted a fresh slate.

During my personally elected studies into Japanese fashion and aesthetics, I fell in love with Japan. My dissertation was titled "The rise of gender neutrality and its origins in Japanese design." I even visited a friend studying abroad there in 2015, and that brief but fantastic sojourn left me thinking — somewhat naively — "I could live here."

A year later, in my depressed state, that thought resurfaced. Then it became all I could focus on.

I needed to move to Japan

The move wasn't completely off the cuff ー I'm not spontaneous enough for that. I applied to and was accepted into the JET Program, an organization that recruits thousands of graduates to teach English.

Rather than a traditional school placement, I was based at an education center in Kanagawa, about an hour from Tokyo, with occasional assignments at local high schools.

I threw myself into adapting: learning the rhythms of a new culture, working on my basic Japanese skills, and exploring my new environment. With every mountain climb, temple visit, and ramen bowl, I felt the blanket of depression start to fall from my shoulders.

I put myself out there once again, starting new hobbies such as MMA, kendo, and ikebana while reviving my old passions like drama. These led to new connections and opportunities. I felt reborn.

Japan had rekindled my passion for life. Feeling I'd gotten all I could from my teaching role, I decided to leave Japan with the goal of picking up where I was prior to my depressive episode.

Life back in Europe

I returned to the UK only for the pandemic to cut right across all my well-laid plans. Like most of the country, I was trapped inside, questioning my life decisions, especially about leaving Japan.

I was better connected in Tokyo's creative circles than in the UK, I had support in Japan, and the cost of living was considerably lower. I decided to move back, this time not out of depression, but out of hope and ambition.

In 2022, I returned on a working holiday visa, juggling remote freelance writing gigs with pitching to local publications. I pushed hard until, when my working holiday visa came to an end, I had enough work behind me to switch to the journalism visa in 2023.

Despite expanding my client list and gaining experience, my original fire began to flicker, then sputter, and more recently, it's felt like I'm helplessly blowing on the embers to keep them from going out. I was burned out.

Depression was setting in again. I experienced fatigue, a lack of interest in my hobbies, a desire to be left alone, all while self-flagellating my lack of ambition and for "settling" in my career.

My loving fiancé — whom I met here in Japan — was starting to worry to the point where he offered to cover the cost of online therapy. During these sessions, I realized that, for the first time since moving back to Japan, I was starting to feel homesick.

Living in a foreign country is tough

For starters, while I speak enough to get by, not speaking fluent Japanese is exhausting. As a multifaceted freelancer, immigration's restrictive boxes feel like a choking dog collar yanking me back from new opportunities, not to mention the new gray hairs I gain with every annual visa renewal.

On top of that, I've felt a rise of anti-foreigner sentiment, and Tokyo's concrete jungle is starting to feel claustrophobic and repressive.

In recent months, my brain has been flooded with ideas of returning back to the pastoral days of my youth. Stone cottages with actual gardens, walks down country paths with a dog by my side, fully understanding what's being said to me at a doctor's visit.

But I can't tell if I'm truly wanting to return to England or if I'm trying to escape back into a childhood where responsibilities were minimal.

I've worked so hard to get to and stay in Japan, I don't know whether to push through what could simply be a low period and wait to get to the other side, or whether my gut, my instinct, is trying to tell me something.

When it comes to big life choices like these, I realize I'll only find out if it was the right decision after the fact. I just hope that, whatever my partner and I choose to do, we make the best of that decision.

• It took me a while to figure out what I wanted to do with my life.
• When I realized I wanted to be a teacher, I wasn't willing to take on student loan debt.
• I used income from my side hustle, freelance writing, to get my master's debt-free.

It took me a while to figure out what I wanted to be. After having kids, I finally knew, but didn't have time. Only in midlife did I make the transition to my dream career — but first, I had to find a way to pay for it.

After high school, I started college as a drama major. I dreamed of heading to Hollywood. When the major wasn't what I had hoped, I decided on English instead. I'd gotten straight As in the subject in high school. It just made sense. That is, until people asked what I planned to do with my liberal arts degree.

There seemed to be very few options. I could go into publishing. But, according to my professor, I'd be dirt poor and living in a hovel in New York City — at least at first. Teaching was another common suggestion, but I had zero interest in it at the time. Besides, it required more schooling. Instead, like many 20-somethings, I floundered as I searched for myself and a career path.

After floundering, I finally figured out what I wanted to do

I shifted from job to job. I worked as a waitress and a chiropractic assistant before I was, unhappily, dropped smack dab into corporate America. I had stints in office management, webinar coordination, and marketing. I would go into the office and wonder if I was contributing to humanity in any way.

When I walked my son into kindergarten, I realized I loved being in an elementary school. I wanted to get my teaching degree, but with young kids and a full-time job, it didn't feel realistic. Ironically, after years of saying I'd never teach, that's exactly what I wanted. Instead, I stayed miserable in corporate America.

Heading back to school was expensive

A decade later, I finally found myself working in the school system as an educational technician, or an ed tech — essentially a teaching assistant. Special education quickly became my niche, especially since so few wanted to substitute in that area. That experience made the transition to a special education ed tech natural.

Ed techs made very little money. I would have to go back to school to become a teacher if I wanted to make a living. But I already had large debts from my undergraduate degree in English and my first master's in television/video production. I was still paying them off in my 40s. I wasn't willing or able to take on more student loan debt. The district I worked in as an ed tech would pay for three of the 10 classes I was required to take to earn my master's in education.

But when I did the math, I saw it wouldn't work. With four kids at home, we could barely keep up as it was. Taking on loans would be an extra burden we couldn't manage, so I kept plugging away without a clear plan for paying for my second master's degree.

My side gig helped

I had always loved writing. I wrote short stories and other fiction. Writing non-fiction never interested me. But after starting a blog about parenthood, I built a following. I'd started freelancing in 2014 after learning to pitch. It was a slow start and an even slower build. I sold one essay, which led to another.

When the pandemic hit, my freelance writing income almost matched my full-time ed tech pay. I wrote about parenting, childhood, and lifestyle topics. It was a learning curve to move into reported pieces, but my English degree was finally starting to pay off. What started as a hobby had become a lucrative side gig.

That insight led me to realize I could use my freelance earnings to fund the seven classes my district didn't cover. With planning and consistency, I put away enough to pay my tuition. I started my master's in 2019 and finished it in 2021 debt-free. It was an amazing feeling. I have been working as a special education teacher since 2022, and I love it.

Now, I'm hoping to do the same to get my Ph.D. in education. Funny how sometimes, the things you promise you'll never do become the ones that matter most — and the ones you work the hardest for.

• Up to 40% of men admit to losing their rings. My husband was one of them.
• To help travelers like us find lost jewelry, people-for-hire scour beaches with metal detectors.
• We found Antigua's very own treasure hunter through Facebook.

My husband and I were on our blissful honeymoon, beach hopping in Antigua, when a look of horror passed over his face. Amid the splashing and digging for shells, his wedding ring had slipped off.

"It's gone. My ring is gone!" Panic rose in his voice.

I, despite my dramatic nature, was surprisingly calm. We bought his 14-karat gold ring at Costco for $1,000. If we had to lose a ring, I'd rather his than mine, which is a family heirloom. However, his band was the one I'd slipped on his finger after our vows, so it had sentimental value.

"We'll find it!" I squeaked. I ran up to a vendor on the beach and asked if we could borrow snorkels. We spent the next hour circling the same 30-square-foot patch of the ocean floor. Nothing.

The sun was setting, so we dragged our dejected, dripping selves into towels and returned the masks. My husband wavered between dead silence and frustrated groans on the drive back.

That night, we looked through pictures and realized we'd lost it at a different beach: Turner's. We'd been looking in the wrong place.

Facebook to the rescue

My husband's not alone in his misfortune. Statistics vary, but several reports over the years estimate that between 10% to 40% of men lose their wedding rings at some point. Through many Reddit posts, I realized there's a solution: a metal detector.

Turns out, people make careers from finding jewelry on the ocean floor. And it's getting more popular due to surging gold prices.

I came across an article in The Wall Street Journal about a famous man from the island of Mauritius who'd found a Frenchman's ring in the ocean not once but twice. I wondered if Antigua had its own treasure hunter.

So I posted in a tourists' Facebook group: "We're on our honeymoon. My husband lost his ring. Does anyone have a metal detector?"

The first comment completely deflated my confidence: "That's a bad omen lol." Another said, "I never wear my good jewelry in the ocean." Most people suggested we pray to St. Anthony or wished us luck. Finally, the next morning, someone mentioned Winston.

Winston Merchant's a local guy from St. John. Over a WhatsApp call, he offered: "$50 if I don't find it. $200 if I do. Cash." We agreed.

"Do you think it'll still be there after two days in the ocean?" I asked over the phone, anxiously chewing my lip.

"Ya, man. It'll be there." Winston's quiet confidence raised our hopes.

The day of the hunt

We met Winston the next morning, 44 hours after my husband lost his ring. He radiated calm. I live in New York City, so I can't grasp the concept of calm, let alone embody it. But this man did. He sported flip flops and a Bob Marley shirt.

As we got to talking, he estimated he's unearthed about 1,000 pieces of jewelry.

"But I've been doing this a long time, man. Since 1998," he later said.

He said he's found rings, chains, and bracelets, mostly for tourists. One time, he said he tracked down a valuable pendant the size of a grain of rice on a resort lawn. Another time, he found a woman's diamond ring on the Sandals beach and delivered it to the airport moments before she boarded her flight.

Full-time, Winston farms marijuana and black pineapple — a rare, exceptionally sweet variety only found in Antigua. This helps him fund his side gig of metal detecting, which isn't cheap.

He said his latest detector, a Garrett Sea Hunter Mark II, cost him $800, and a pair of new headphones set him back $140.

He used my own ring to make sure he was on the right frequency for gold, adjusting the knobs as he floated the sensor over my hand. Then, he set off, scanning the beach.

Soon, he was knee deep in the bluest water I'd ever seen. Whenever his sensor beeped in his ears, he'd scoop a pile of sand from the ocean floor and sift it with a second contraption that resembled a pasta colander, but was cylinder-shaped.

He unearthed a quarter. "I'll keep that," he cracked. Then a matchbox car. Then one aluminum can lid after another. All of it went deep in his pocket so he wouldn't come across it again.

At one point, he was neck deep in water, and I was beginning to lose hope.

Striking gold

An hour and a half later, I sat 15 feet from the water's edge contemplating how we'd afford a new ring when Winston calmly sauntered up.

He held out the pasta-collander tool and said, "You better go surprise him." I peered inside, and there lay a golden ring. Eyes wide, I screamed an expletive.

"Go put it in a shell or something," Winston smiled knowingly. Clearly, he'd done this before.

I ran up the beach, grabbed a shell, and tucked it and the ring inside my palm. I bolted up to my husband and said, "Look at this pretty shell I found." Unfolding my hand, I revealed the ring. Another expletive. My husband's eyes were gleaming.

The pair of us bounced around, cackling to anyone who'd listen, "Winston found it! In the ocean of all places!"

Collectively, that ring spent more hours in the ocean than I did on my honeymoon.

Winston didn't seem surprised at his success. He estimates his find rate is 95%. Sometimes he ditches the metal detector and searches with his hand by feel. He puts so much effort into his hunts because he knows the feeling of losing something special, he told me.

"It's not just a ring. A lot of memories flash through your head when you lose it," he said. "That joy from your vacation gets pushed back, and you leave bitter. I make somebody happy again."

It seemed fitting that my husband was wearing a Pittsburgh Pirates hat. We'd been searching for lost treasure with Winston, who'd struck gold.

• Mark Zuckerberg's email struck an empathetic tone. He also said he didn't expect more companywide layoffs in 2026.
• Layoff anxiety can hurt worker productivity and morale, thereby carrying a real business cost.
• Workplace observers say his focus on stability suggests he recognizes the impact of prolonged uncertainty.

Mark Zuckerberg is signaling that Meta employees can stop looking over their shoulders.

After long emphasizing cost-cutting, management flattening, and "Year of Efficiency" rhetoric, the Meta chief struck an empathetic tone in his post-layoff email to employees on Wednesday — emphasizing stability, conceding communication failures, and promising to "do right by people along the way."

In his internal email to staffers, he thanked the roughly 8,000 workers who were being let go and emphasized his desire to provide "as much stability as possible" to those who remained.

It was a reminder that layoff anxiety carries a real business cost.

To that point, Zuckerberg said that he doesn't expect further companywide layoffs in 2026.

While that doesn't rule out smaller-scale cuts, the message followed weeks of grueling uncertainty for staffers waiting to learn whether they still had jobs.

Zuckerberg's email — a shift away from the more hard-charging tone he adopted post-pandemic — suggested he recognizes that prolonged uncertainty can weigh on employees and, ultimately, the company itself, workplace observers told Business Insider.

"You do need to try to create some psychological safety for people who are there, because layoffs are extremely distracting," said Amii Barnard-Bahn, a C-suite coach and consultant.

'We won't always get this balance right'

Wednesday's cuts were the latest challenge for a workforce that has spent years navigating repeated rounds of layoffs, heightened performance scrutiny, and persistent questions about whether AI would take their jobs.

It's a theme that has played out across tech, as companies increasingly tie cuts to AI and leaders warn about a white-collar bloodbath.

In 2025, the CEO told staffers in an all-hands meeting to "buckle up" for an "intense" year ahead. Some of Meta's layoffs have come with an added sting: Last year, the company also said it was cutting some 4,000 workers who had failed to meet expectations.

By the time the latest round arrived, the accumulation of uncertainty had drained some employees and left them wishing they were let go.

Meta didn't respond to a request for comment from Business Insider.

Zuckerberg's Wednesday message hit on the toll that uncertainty around staffing levels can take: "We won't always get this balance right, but I care deeply about this so we'll keep adjusting and work hard to do right by people along the way," he wrote.

It's not clear how effective Zuckerberg's softer tone might be, though he had little choice but to try to reassure those left standing, said Pav Stojkovic, an HR consultant and former chief people officer at several companies, including The Athletic.

Zuckerberg's approach is a departure from one he'd used previously. In 2022, for example, Zuckerberg told Meta staff he was upping performance goals to get rid of employees who "shouldn't be here."

By "turning up the heat a little bit," Zuckerberg said at the time that he hoped some workers would "decide that this place isn't for you, and that self-selection is OK with me."

Last year, Meta directed managers to place a higher proportion of employees in its bottom review rankings. Zuckerberg has a long-standing history of ratcheting up the pressure at Meta, reinforcing a blunt, survival-of-the-fittest culture at the social media giant.

The billionaire CEO is far from alone in embracing a sink-or-swim philosophy as AI reshapes the workplace.

A focus on execution

Zuckerberg's note comes at a transitional time for the industry. Excitement over the possibility of AI has mixed with fears over efficiency-driven job cuts and the encroachment of automation on workers' livelihoods.

As Meta reshuffles roughly 7,000 employees to focus on new AI initiatives, Zuckerberg needs a workforce concentrated on execution amid the AI arms race.

"Success isn't a given. AI is the most consequential technology of our lifetimes. The companies that lead the way will define the next generation," he wrote.

Barnard-Bahn said it's likely that productivity at the company took a big hit in the last month, as workers worried about whether they or their colleagues would be cut or reorganized.

By providing workers with a higher degree of job security for the next six-plus months, Zuckerberg might be offering employees something that Big Tech competitors have not.

"Meta has the talent, the infrastructure, the apps and distribution, and the business model," Zuckerberg wrote. "We have a lot of work ahead, but what's on the other side is going to be extraordinary."

• At 50, I retired from my job as a pharmacist in the US and moved to Ajijic, Mexico.
• To make this work, I did a lot of strategic planning and adjusting before and after the move.
• It has already paid off: I'm doing well, and I've planned for a sustainable early retirement abroad.

After turning 50, I retired from my job as a pharmacist and moved from San Francisco to Ajijic, Mexico.

On paper, I had done everything right: I did a ton of research, picked a beautiful lakeside town, and ran the numbers. I was confident I could make this new life work.

However, building a sustainable, enjoyable early retirement abroad takes more than just moving to a place with a lower cost of living.

After three years here, I believe I've finally done it.

First, I had to figure out what 'sustainable' actually means in practice

For me, a sustainable early retirement abroad means feeling at ease and living comfortably while staying prepared for the unexpected.

Since I chose to retire at 50, I wanted to make sure I could support myself for at least another 17 years, which is when I'll be eligible to receive full Social Security benefits.

When building a sustainable financial system, I kept in mind my desired lifestyle, second-career goals, fixed-income investments, and long-term legacy.

For example, I wanted to be able to visit my family back in San Francisco regularly and finally pursue writing as a career — something I'd wanted since grade school — without an immediate need for income.

So, I prioritized growing my high-yield savings accounts and investing in CDs, short-term bond funds, and money market funds to cover living expenses.

I also hired a financial advisor to diversify the rest of my portfolio for growth and stability, so I could focus on creative work rather than market swings after I moved.

I knew I needed to create a budget to help keep my yearly spending steady, so I began tracking how much I would need for essentials while still having extra money for travel, enrichment, and emergencies.

The first year of my move consisted of a lot of preparing, testing, and exploring

After the initial culture shock, I spent my first year in Ajijic learning my way around the town, getting accustomed to Mexican culture, and gradually falling into step with the local rhythm.

I explored different ways to manage cash flow between my US and Mexican bank accounts and learned I liked using the service Wise for low-fee currency conversions.

Through online searches and conversations with locals and expats, I curated a "money‑smart" list of the best-priced grocery stores, reliable handymen, and trusted doctors, so future surprise expenses could be less likely to blow up my budget.

I tracked all my spending in a spreadsheet, breaking it down by category so I knew exactly where my money was going. This helped me plan for the next year.

After a few months of renting, I also bought a house that's become both a comfortable home and a long‑term investment. Owning a home helped anchor me in the community and turn my housing expenses into an asset.

In my second and third years abroad, I did more strategic planning and refining

In year two, I worked closely with my financial advisor to better reshape my portfolio around my early retirement needs and set up an accessible emergency fund.

I got in the habit of using Wise to track the dollar-to-peso exchange rate and batch-converting money whenever it was favorable.

Plus, I took a closer look at my healthcare plans. Because of my good health, I chose to pay out of pocket for doctor's visits rather than buy health insurance in Mexico. This lowered my expenses and also made it easy to put off routine checkups.

Even though I felt fine, I knew I needed to stay on top of preventive care to protect my long-term health, so I also scheduled an annual lab panel, vision exam, and routine teeth cleaning. They all cost me less than what I'd spend on similar services in the US. I made plans to repeat this annually so small problems wouldn't snowball.

In year three, I set up many unsexy but critical documents, including wills, beneficiary designations, and a cross-border estate plan.

I also created an emergency plan in case of a health crisis, which included which hospital I'd like to use, how I would pay, and who to call if something went wrong.

And, after two years of collecting my Ajijic spending data, I finally had the experience and confidence to lock in my budget and begin living by it.

All in all, I've found that sustainability is a gateway to opportunities

I feel I've made the right choice by retiring early in Mexico and giving myself the chance to lead a new life on my own terms.

In three years, though, all my planning, saving, investing, and strategizing have begun to pay off: I've had more mental space for writing and other creative work that energizes me.

My writing career is already taking shape. I recently won ThrillerFest's 2026 Undiscovered New Voices scholarship and will soon pitch my latest psychological thriller to industry professionals.

Sure, this is a simplified overview — building a retirement abroad also involves navigating visas and so many other logistics.

It takes time to build a system that can hold up for decades, but I already feel confident I can maintain my current lifestyle for many years to come.

• This post originally appeared in the BI Today newsletter.
• You can sign up for Business Insider's daily newsletter here.

A bummer for benefits

It's no secret that the era of generous employee perks is fading. Free food, on-site laundry, and gym subsidies are all becoming less common. Even full-time remote work is becoming increasingly rare.

Amid all the cutting, I really thought certain benefits like paid time off and parental leave would be untouchable.

I was wrong.

Earlier this month, my colleague Polly Thompson reported a bombshell scoop that Deloitte plans to pare back or cut several core benefits for some of its employees. Internal documents and a meeting recording revealed the consulting firm is planning cuts to parental leave, PTO, pensions, and IVF funding for workers in internal support roles such as admin, IT support, and finance.

And it's not just Deloitte.

Zoom is also scaling back its parental leave. Birthing parents now get 18 weeks of paid parental leave, down from 22—24. Non-birthing parents get 10 weeks, down from 16.

Here's the thing: Once a few big companies put the most prized benefits on the chopping block, others may follow suit.

These moves aren't happening in a vacuum. Companies are prioritizing measurable output over loyalty. They are raising performance expectations and tracking AI usage, all with eyes on improving the bottom line.

To be sure, some employees might prefer having their benefits cut rather than losing their jobs altogether.

Just this past week, Meta said it plans to cut 10% of its staff next month and eliminate 6,000 open roles in an effort to "run the company more efficiently."

Employees didn't hold back in their reactions. "Welcome to 28 days of hell," one Meta employee posted on an internal forum, referring to May 20 (the date the cuts are expected to happen).

Also on Thursday, Microsoft said it was offering one-time buyouts to long-serving US employees. The package is aimed at workers who want to retire.

With companies squarely in efficiency mode, they are sending a clear message: Job cuts are en vogue, loyalty is dead, and no benefit is off-limits anymore.

• Tokenmaxxing is all the rage in Big Tech. For startups, the trend is opening up debate.
• Some founders told Business Insider that they spent big on tokens; others used capped subscription plans.
• One founder called tokenmaxxing "extremely stupid." Another said: "You've got to spend money to make money."

Kavitta Ghai wants her startup's engineers to spend more tokens.

The 29-year-old cofounder of Nectir started setting minimum quotas for Claude Code use. First it was at least $100 in tokens a week, then $200. Now, the expectation is that her engineers each spend a couple thousand in AI tokens a month.

The strategy has been successful, Ghai said. Some of Nectir's senior engineers were previously skeptical of AI coding tools; now, they call it their "army of coders," she said.

But she doesn't think Nectir is "tokenmaxxing," the buzzword du jour for techies racing to spend as much as they can. "We don't really play into the Silicon Valley trends," Ghai said. "We live in our own world, and we're competing against ourselves."

Across Big Tech, engineers are racing to spend as many tokens as possible. A token is a measure of AI compute. The more tokens burned, the more the engineer employs AI tools. Employees at Meta reportedly competed on a token leaderboard before it was taken down.

What of the little guy? Startups are an edge case: relatively tiny teams that want to be on the cutting edge of tech but might not have the same money to spend. Some startup leaders told Business Insider that big token bills helped them succeed. Others scoffed at the idea, preferring to stick to the lower-cost subscriptions.

The startups spending big on tokens

Aron Solberg doesn't want the competition of a token leaderboard — but he does want the mindset behind it.

The 44-year-old cofounder of Risotto sees token spending as a "force multiplier" for a small team. The company uses OpenAI and Anthropic's models, and said it spends $4,000-5,000 per month on tokens. Six months ago, Risotto says he spent one-tenth of that sum.

"It's trending up a lot," Solberg said.

"There's an old adage that rings true," he said, whether it was for hiring new employees or spending liberally on tokens: "You've got to spend money to make money."

Quang Hoang is similarly spending big. He wrote in an email that his startup, Vybe, has an "unlimited credit policy" and was thinking about minimum quotas.

Investors are also incentivizing spending — and might foot the bill.

Hoang tells founders he invests in to allocate "at least their salary amount to tokens." (Nvidia CEO Jensen Huang made headlines last month for saying he would be "deeply alarmed" if one of his $500,000 engineers did not consume at least $250,000 of tokens.)

Accelerators like Y Combinator offer free token credits to their participants. "At YC, we let our engineers let it rip," CEO Garry Tan wrote on X. Those credits help some founders to spend big. These founders aren't tokenmaxxers, but do believe that there are productivity benefits.

Traverse cofounder Lance Yan believed in Tan's message: "We usually just let it rip." The 19-year-old said he uses the best models with the maximum effort, not worrying about the costs. Between his Claude Max subscription and the credits that offered by YC, he can spend big without hitting a limit.

He's not a fan of rationing tokens. "That's stupid," he said. "You're just harming your own startup."

26-year-old Boris Skurikhin said that the YC credits helped his startup Docket get off the ground. He's mostly run through them now, except for the models he uses less frequently.

Skurikhin said he noticed a 10x increase in productivity in his own work when he used the tools. "It is expensive to build with tokens," he said, but "not as expensive as having another engineer."

Many of these startups are in the AI game, after all. Nectir's Ghai said that token spending instilled "AI literacy" — something that's especially important, given their product.

"The team itself needs to be the best versed at it first, before we try to go sell it to anyone else," she said.

The startups saying no to tokenmaxxing

Rishabh Sambare wishes he could spend more on tokens.

The 23-year-old cofounder of Gale prefers to build with Zed, an AI IDE similar to Cursor, but can't stomach the company's usage-based pricing. The subscription deals from OpenAI and Anthropic are so deeply subsidized that he uses them instead.

"It sucks, because I hate their products," he said, calling Zed "more polished and less buggy between releases."

Sambare is Gale's only engineer, though the company often has 2-3 interns. He hasn't hit a rate limit, but one of his interns has. They got him a second subscription, he said; it was still far cheaper.

These subscriptions — sending $100 to $200 to Anthropic for its "Max" tiers or $100 to OpenAI for its "Pro" plan in exchange for a stable of discounted tokens — were popular among the founders I spoke to. Hassan Ismail, the 24-year-old founder of Argos Research, said the Claude Max subscription was a "no-brainer," and that all five team members have a $200 a month subscription.

Others were more philosophically opposed to the trend. Weave's Brennan Lupyrypa didn't mince his words: "It's extremely stupid for any company to be tokenmaxxing."

Weave is still spending big on tokens because it doesn't want to "kneecap" its engineers, its 25-year-old founding engineer said. The company set up a notification for when an engineer hit $500 in token spending a month; Lupyrypa said most hit it within two weeks.

But Weave doesn't incentivize the spending itself, which Lupyrypa said was the wrong proxy. He predicted the downfall of tokenmaxxing within the next three months. "CFOs won't be happy," he said.

Still, some tokenmaxxers hold strong. I asked Risotto's Solberg about these token-hesitant founders. He said that they likely hadn't found their product-market fit yet.

"It makes complete sense to spend a lot of money on tokens, because you know that the growth is coming soon after," Solberg said. "If you're a venture-backed business, that's what you signed up for."

"H

ow long have you been living in Singapore?"

It's a question taxi drivers have been asking me since I arrived from New York nearly 20 years ago.

In the beginning, the answer was small, just a year, then two.

My husband and I had come with a two-year plan. Freshly married, we told ourselves it was an exciting chapter in our new life together. We left boxes in the basement of my sister's Brooklyn apartment, assuming we'd be back for them soon.

But as the number crept past that deadline — five years, then 10 — those boxes slowly made their way over.

These days, it's not just taxi drivers asking how long we plan to stay.

My mom comments on how far away we live, now that it includes her two grandchildren. My in-laws gently remind us of the advantages of being closer. Everyone seems to assume there's a logical next stop, a final destination that will eventually make sense of everything.

But somewhere along the way, Singapore stopped feeling like a chapter and started feeling like muscle memory. I've lost my tolerance for cold weather after years in the tropics. Back in New York, walking into someone's apartment without taking off my shoes feels strange.

Still, there are reminders that my life is split across borders. As an American, I file US taxes every year — the US is one of the few countries that require it of citizens abroad — a constant reminder that I'm living between places.

My two kids look genuinely confused when someone asks them, "Where are you from?"

As more families build lives abroad, we're not the only ones being asked that question.

In 2024, about 3.3 million Americans were living overseas — a 15% increase since 2010 — according to a Federal Voting Assistance Program estimate that pieces together tax records, Social Security data, and foreign census figures. Because Americans don't have to register when they move abroad, there's no official count.

In this series, you'll hear from others who have made homes overseas, at different ages, for different reasons, and at different stages of staying, all answering the same question in their own way: Where is home, really?

• I've been searching for my first full-time role since I graduated last May to no luck.
• I've had to rely on my parents to stay in New York City, which has made me feel guilty.
• Despite the countless rejections, I'm not letting it stop me from enjoying life.

Last May, I graduated with my bachelor's degree from The New School, a relatively large private institution in New York City.

I knew competition postgrad would be competitive, but I did not anticipate a grim job market and AI takeovers.

As a Dean's List student with a 3.9 GPA and multiple extracurriculars under my belt, I figured I'd be a top candidate for my first entry-level job.

Boy, was I wrong.

Moving to New York City was my dream for as long as I can remember

I figured graduating would mean freedom from the confines of a classroom. But when I followed my dream to New York City, that freedom was paralyzing. I quickly learned that I still had a ways to go before I could start living my life.

I found myself stuck behind a counter working my part-time job as a barista and questioning everything from why I went to college to why I feel so passionate about staying in one of the most expensive places on earth. Additionally, I felt guilty for relying on my parents to pay my rent and help keep me here away from my home state of North Carolina.

I felt like an idiot for leaving my family, even though I always knew I was meant for more than what my hometown could offer, and yet the city remains financially challenging for someone like me with student loans and only a part-time job. Thankfully, I have a cushion should I need it, but I expected to be financially independent by now.

Navigating a competitive market

Since graduation, I have applied to roughly 200 positions, ranging from internships to entry-level to contract and temp roles. And while that number doesn't seem like much compared to the other grads who've sent out 500+ applications, I like to think I'm playing the market strategically by applying to roles where I'm a decent fit. I'm also attempting to set up informational interviews.

However, regardless of my strategy, I keep getting ghosted and rejected by automated no-reply emails months after applying.

When I discovered that I wasn't the only one struggling, it began to make sense. However, after dealing with COVID interruptions in high school, worker strikes in college, and mental health struggles surrounding personal issues, I was burned out.

As a result, I had forgotten why I went to school in the first place. As I began applying, I found myself flexible to take just about anything and started to lose myself in the process.

Seven months into underemployment, I got laid off from the café, but thankfully found another part-time job with a friend's help.

A month later, in January, I got my first interview for a job in my field. Followed up three weeks later, only to be told they were still in the first round and haven't heard back since.

A month after that, I hired a career coach to help me navigate the market. She rewrote my résumé, reviewed my LinkedIn profile and portfolio, provided industry insights, and redefined my career path.

I then got another interview, this time for an internship. I haven't heard back from that either.

What frustrates me the most is the silence. Anxiously waiting to know whether or not I got the job, or at least an interview, is soul-sucking. It makes me doubt myself and my skills. It makes me feel like a failure.

Learning to overcome what you can't control

New York is already an incredibly lonely place, and lately it's been a lot lonelier when I've been confined to a room applying to jobs away from home.

At only 23, I feel like I failed despite working my ass off in high school and in college, only to get "Unfortunately, we have decided not to proceed with your candidacy at this time, but we appreciate the time and effort you dedicated to the application process."

I have no idea what's next for me or when I'll get a full-time job, but one thing I've learned about being underemployed is you've got to make the most out of it because life is unpredictable, and you shouldn't let it slip away because things are uncertain or stagnant.

And if you need help from your parents, whether it's a roof over your head or an allowance, there's no shame in that. This is an extremely unprecedented and scary time for everyone. Even if you're not job hunting, we could all use a little support.

• This post originally appeared in the BI Today newsletter.
• You can sign up for Business Insider's daily newsletter here.

What I learned from Take Your Kids to Work Day

The fourth Thursday of April means two things: You'll see a lot more kids during your work commute, and the office may be a bit more chaotic with the sound of young laughter, and yes, even some cries.

Take Your Kid to Work Day was an eventful one at Business Insider. Dozens of our colleagues' children descended into our newsroom's auditorium for bingo, a scavenger hunt, an animation demonstration to see how cartoons are made — courtesy of our amazing video team — and of course, pizza.

As a first-time mom of two boys (smile), it also taught me three lessons:

1. My workday is optimized for efficiency, but on TYKTWD, it was replaced with a slower pace that children naturally bring. It allowed me to be more present and engaged with my coworkers.
2. It also reminded me of the value of flexibility. My daily caramel macchiato run turned into grabbing hot chocolate for my boys. After one promptly spilled (a small tragedy indeed), the day was still amazing. It's proof that drinks can spill, meetings can get canceled, but nothing broke.
3. The day also made me grateful, again, for the work I get to do — telling meaningful stories for our readers. My boys marveled at FiDi's skyscrapers, a dinosaur-shaped building, and even my office's elevators that I typically ignore.

In the end, presence did what productivity couldn't.

• Last year, Goldman named Kunal Shah co-CEO of its international business and global co-head of FICC.
• Shah made partner at just 31, having climbed to the top after about a decade with the bank.
• He spoke with Business Insider about the EMEA tech scene, global volatility, and the bank's future.

Not many people can say they've made partner at Goldman Sachs. Even fewer can say they did it at the age of 31.

Kunal Shah can say both.

Shah joined Goldman Sachs as an analyst in the firm's trading business in 2004 and rose to partner in about a decade. Last January, he was promoted to two new roles: co-CEO of Goldman Sachs International and global co-head of fixed income, currencies, and commodities. Based in London, he also holds a seat on the bank's overarching management committee.

As part of a new series of Q&As we're kicking off with some of Goldman Sachs' top executives, Business Insider had the chance to sit down with Shah to discuss Europe's tech sector, Goldman's presence in the Middle East, and what the financial industry's embrace of AI means for newcomers' careers.

Here's our conversation with Shah, edited for length and clarity.

What do you recall from those early years, and how did senior bankers mentor you during your ascent?

After graduation, what struck me when I hit the trading floor as a full-time analyst was that I had access to the then-partners, even when I was just a new kid on the trading desk. When I became a partner, I found the interconnectedness — your ability to make a call to any partner anywhere in the world, offering a clear baseline of trust — amazing.

I would call out Ashok Varadhan, who I have worked with since day one, and who is now the firm's co-head of global banking and markets. I first met him when he agreed to meet for a coffee when I was a fresh analyst and visited New York for my training in 2004. He was already a partner, but he took the time to connect, and we stayed in touch when I hit the trading floor in London. He would listen to my views and he welcomed debates around risks or initiatives.

From him, I learned to have a laser focus on risk management, but also a willingness to take and scale risk where there is opportunity in the business.

As new analysts hit the desk this summer, how do you see AI affecting the long-term outlook for bankers and traders?

Junior talent are inherently tech-savvy, and they don't have the legacy of why we do things in a certain way. They can see how to disrupt us.

Even when I was an intern, people were telling me, "Don't rotate into fixed income trading desks — it's all going to get automated." A lot of the administrative tasks that junior people used to do were no longer needed because we were able to leverage technology and tools to achieve scale.

For me, AI is just another natural extension of that. More of the mundane work — whether that's making presentations, building Excel models, or booking trades — doesn't need to be done in the same way.

The bottom-up experimentation I see across the whole organization is powered by the tools we've released. Once you equip your people with these tools, they can experiment and find things that could be game-changing.

If young people come in with the mindset of actually helping us to disrupt things, and to embrace the change, I think the experience they can have in this industry can be phenomenal.

You're at the helm of Goldman Sachs International as co-CEO of GSI and global co-head of FICC. What's the most interesting facet of being in those seats right now?

The common thread across both roles — and the thing I love most about them — is that no day is the same.

Working in FICC means you're right at the intersection of politics, macroeconomics, geopolitics, and how each of these interact at the micro level with different sectors and markets. Part of the job is balancing long-term strategic views with the constant flow of markets. Even now, if you look at this moment in time, there is uncertainty around commodity markets and you need to watch how that feeds into the monetary policy decisions of central banks, asset allocation shifts and more. There is almost consistency in the uncertainty, and that is inherently exciting to work amidst.

As co-CEO of Goldman Sachs International, I have been exposed to a much broader range of clients across the firm. Across the region, we've got around 29 offices — which means we have people, we have clients, and we have interactions with key policymakers, regulators, finance officials, and central bankers.

The US appears to be leading in AI investment and infrastructure. What's your outlook for the EMEA tech landscape, and how is that changing?

Over the last decade, the number of unicorns in the broader European context has tripled. The tech space in EMEA is much broader than people realize.

In terms of capital markets being US-centric — there is definitely an element there when you're talking about the hyperscalers, and this huge amount of AI-related debt issuance we're seeing. Many of those large tech platforms are quite US-centric. But I wouldn't say exclusively.

You can remember companies like DeepMind and others very much coming out of the tech ecosystem in Europe.

We are witnessing what is arguably the largest investment cycle in history, with our research teams estimating that hyperscaler capex could reach between $700 billion and $725 billion in 2026 alone.

While the US and China lead the LLM race, we also see a distinct competitive edge for the EMEA region at the AI application layer. European entrepreneurs are taking core models and building specialized, high-value software to solve industry-specific problems in robotics, autonomous drones, and smart factories.

As the conflict in Iran continues, how do you view the potential impacts of the Middle East conflict for Goldman's international businesses?

We have five offices in the region — in Abu Dhabi, Dubai, Doha, Riyadh, and Kuwait — and over 100 people. In the past 12 months alone, we announced our office opening in Kuwait, a new office in Riyadh, and the onshoring of our private wealth business there. We are active across advisory, financing, markets and as an asset manager and investor.

The countries in the Gulf Cooperation Council have managed the situation very well so far, both from maintaining a safe environment but also ensuring that the countries continue to operate with a good sense of as much normality as possible given the situation.

Once we move beyond the current conflict, the renewed focus on infrastructure and resilience will bring other opportunities for us to help our clients, and our presence there enables our ability to do so.

• AI has become a hiring buzzword, and four employees explained how they added it to their job titles.
• An AI engineer said showcasing side projects was pivotal to transitioning from software engineering.
• Two non-technical Microsoft employees said having a humanities background was a strength.

AI is the buzziest word on the job market — and many workers want to know how to pivot into it.

As many technical workers upskill to stay on the cutting edge, others are moving into AI-focused roles from entirely different industries.

Many companies are pouring an eye-watering amount of money into AI, cutting some roles while adding new positions tied to the technology.

Against that backdrop, moving into AI could be a way for workers to future-proof their careers as the employment market reshuffles. AI engineers, consultants, strategists, and researchers rank among the top five fastest-growing roles in the US, according to LinkedIn's Jobs On the Rise 2026 report.

There's no single path into AI, and Business Insider spoke with four workers who took very different ones. Read on to learn how they pivoted their careers.

Natasha Crampton, Microsoft chief responsible AI officer

Natasha Crampton got her start as an attorney and is now Microsoft's first chief responsible AI officer.

Her job includes working side-by-side with engineering, sales, and research teams to ensure they uphold principles as they build AI systems. It also includes external work, such as helping establish new laws and standards in the space,

Crampton studied information systems in addition to law, and said she always had an interest in the intersection of technology, law, and society. During the strictly legal phase of her career, she said she always worked on technological issues, such as helping Microsoft draft contracts.

She said people looking to move into tech from other fields should start by using the technology themselves. She added that many technical skills are learnable, so coming from a different background shouldn't limit someone's ability to help shape it. She said, "a huge amount of the value" lies at the intersection of technical knowledge and insights from the social sciences.

Georgian Tutuianu, Hubspot AI engineer

Georgian Tutuianu has had several transitions in engineering, from structural to traditional to software to AI at HubSpot.

Tutuianu said that his ability to get technically in the weeds was an asset during the interview process, and showed he had experience with AI.

He also highlighted that his résumé has a section dedicated to personal projects. Tutuianu said he included one AI project, but it was enough. He said it came up naturally in the interview because he was asked about a time he used or built an AI agent.

"It was a juicy project where I could talk about it, and that was good enough," Tutuianu said.

Tutuianu said he also had to do a take-home coding assignment and review it with the hiring manager afterward, but there was no algorithmic component to the interview.

"Instead of the typical software engineering way that these interviews go, which is 'go solve this algorithm in front of me,'" Tutuianu said. "It's more of 'can you build the things that we care about? Show me."

Jai Raj Choudhary, StackAI engineer

Jai Raj Choudhary transitioned from a data-focused role to an AI engineer at AI agent startup StackAI.

The 24-year-old said he got his job by reaching out to StackAI's cofounder multiple times on LinkedIn. Choudhary said he had used the company's platform as a student, so he messaged the cofounder and started posting about StackAI, offering advice to the company.

He said he thinks he got offers from StackAI was because he understood data quality, the edge cases for the clients, the matrix, and the failure modes of the AI model or any LLM systems that were being used.

He said moving to San Francisco, where 9-9-6 culture existed, helped open his opportunities in the space.

"It's not like a 9-to-5 cushy job," Choudhary said. "We work 9-to-9, six days a week. You wake up, you think about the problem that a client had, and you sleep thinking about what is not fixed yet."

Also, taking a job at a startup that helped him grow and devoting himself to continuous learning made a big difference. Choudhary said he spent hours studying every day.

Brit Morenus, Microsoft senior AI gamification program manager

Brit Morenus, a 37-year-old senior AI gamification program manager, studied English, communications, and marketing in college. She started at Microsoft about 13 years ago as an executive assistant, and for the first five and a half years at the company, she was a contract worker.

She later moved into a role focused on gamification — using game mechanics to teach and market Microsoft's products.

She spent about a year getting certifications that taught her about game mechanics, and in that position, she became a full-time employee. Six years later, she had the opportunity to start gamifying learning about AI, and spent three months learning about it.

Her advice to others who want to transition is to resist letting fear keep you from stepping outside your comfort zone. She also said that with AI roles, you need to learn how it works, not just use it. Morenus added that she doesn't regret her English degree because it's now more important than ever to understand how to apply the English language to AI.

"A lot of it is more English language than it even is AI," Morenus said.

Did you pivot into an AI role? We want to hear from you. Contact the reporter via email at aaltchek@insider.com, or via secure-messaging platform Signal at aalt.19.

• Courtney Clapper started applying for jobs in 2025 after graduating from Cornell Tech.
• She tried video cover letters, portfolios, and more to stand out, but had no luck.
• A hack on Reddit helped her get in contact with hiring managers and land her strategy lead job.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Courtney Clapper, a 32-year-old strategy lead for a major retailer in New York. It's been edited for length and clarity.

I started my job hunt in the fall of 2025, a few months after graduating with my MBA from Cornell Tech. I was applying for a mix of roles, such as product manager or digital strategist, and I knew the competition would be fierce in this tough job market.

From portfolios to video cover letters, I tried all sorts of creative methods to stand out and show off my personality, but they didn't work. A simple, free AI tool that locates hiring managers' emails landed me multiple interviews — and a job.

Video cover letters were a great start for me

My first thought process when entering the job market was to imagine myself as a recruiter, getting slammed with thousands of résumés filled with data and numbers.

I figured it would be in my best interest to give them a sense of what makes me stand out: my personality. So, I recorded myself reading my AI-written cover letters, throwing in a joke or two, and attached the video via a private YouTube link.

The video tells the recruiters I can speak and present well, and it gives them a sense of who I am. This approach helped me land an interview at Microsoft. They specifically called out the video, saying it made them feel like they already knew me, which I thought was pretty good feedback.

I still wanted to try several different creative ideas.

Next, I decided to make something more visual — a portfolio

My portfolio was in the form of a timeline. It included pictures of all professional endeavors I thought could help me land a job, from products I've built and my time at Cornell to pictures of me pitching. My goal was to showcase my skill set and personality while also creating something more visually interesting.

I'd also heard of people getting jobs by putting together a slideshow on how they'd improve the company, so I gave it a shot, and it didn't really get me anywhere. Neither of these strategies was worth the time commitment they required.

Referrals also got me nowhere. I have a solid network, and that wasn't making a difference. Interestingly, I applied for a bunch of roles at Microsoft, and the only one I got an interview for was the one I didn't have a referral for.

I came across a job-finding hack on Reddit

I was reading comments on Reddit from people complaining about their job-hunting struggles, and I saw a few people saying they found success by reaching out to hiring managers directly.

Some people said they cold-called, which made me think, "Okay, that's a little bit too far," but the emphasis was just to reach out. The idea of emailing them seemed low-risk, so I decided to give it a shot.

I started by researching on LinkedIn, trying to guess who the hiring manager or recruiter might be. Sometimes it was listed, but it wasn't the best method. Then I came across a Reddit comment about Apollo AI, a free tool that can locate hiring manager emails. I found it to be pretty accurate, so I started reaching out with my résumé and cover letter. It was a game changer.

The CEO of Sweetgreen responded to my email

My messages showed initiative and, honestly, probably just made things easier for the hiring manager. I reached out to three people directly and got interviewed for two jobs.

I even emailed the CEO of Sweetgreen directly, and he responded by putting me in touch with the hiring manager to schedule an interview.

One of my email reachouts turned into my current job, a strategy lead role for a major retailer. This strategy made things more efficient because I already had a direct line of contact, so it was easy to follow up if there was a delay.

I didn't get any negative feedback about it and would do it again

I was wondering if anyone might be weirded out about me finding their emails, but no one said anything. They could find it creepy, but they could also find it resourceful.

If I were back in the job market, I'd start with the email strategy. The exercise of thinking through creative approaches like portfolios and video cover letters was fun and got me thinking about how to present my personality most effectively, but ultimately, getting in direct contact was the best way to be competitive.

Do you have a story to share about a unique job-finding hack? If so, please reach out to the reporter at tmartinelli@businessinsider.com.

• Target is calling about 150 remote workers back to its Minneapolis headquarters.
• The relocation mandate impacts workers within its merchandising division.
• The retailer, which brought on a new CEO earlier this year, has been working to turn the business around.

Target is calling more remote workers back to its headquarters.

The retailer is requiring about 150 remote workers within two teams in its merchandising group to relocate to Minneapolis, a spokesperson confirmed to Business Insider. Bloomberg earlier reported the news.

The company is offering relocation assistance to those who decide to move and severance to those who choose not to.

A company spokesperson said in a statement that "increased in-person collaboration across a core part of our merchandising team will help us reinforce our merchandising authority, unlocking greater creativity and enabling us to move faster to deliver on our strategy."

The retailer, which brought on a new CEO earlier this year, is in the midst of a turnaround strategy to revive growth, and improving its merchandise is a pillar of that effort.

The relocation mandate comes as more companies, such as Amazon and AT&T, have been calling workers back into the office in recent years. Target last year ramped up in-office days for employees already based in Minneapolis.

Target does not have a companywide mandate and has left in-office requirements to team leaders.

Have a tip? Contact this reporter via email at dreuter@businessinsider.com or text/call/Signal at 646-768-4750. Use a personal email address, a nonwork WiFi network, and a nonwork device; here's our guide to sharing information securely.

• Harry and Susan Jones own Bridge Avenue Berries, a blueberry farm in Allenwood, Pennsylvania.
• The farm became USDA organic certified in 2021, boosting customer traffic and interest.
• If they had bought the farm 30 years ago, they would have likely grown a more diverse set of crops.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Harry Jones, 63, who owns and runs Bridge Avenue Berries with his wife, Susan, in Allenwood, Pennsylvania. It has been edited for length and clarity.

Since I was a kid, I'd always wanted to run my own business, but it never quite came together. I tried starting a small tree nursery business, but we couldn't compete with the big nurseries and had to close it.

Then, a blueberry farm that my wife and I had been picking berries at for years went up for sale. When I first mentioned buying it, she said, "Absolutely not."

A few months later, we were there picking blueberries, and the farm still hadn't sold. We started talking with the owner and purchased it in March 2018.

We didn't have much time to figure it out. Blueberry season starts in early July, and we had about four months to get ready.

That first summer, it felt like we were drinking from a fire hose. We were learning everything at once — pests, soil, customers — mostly the hard way.

I wasn't starting from scratch, but owning a farm still surprised me

My background is in horticulture. I have an associate degree in nursery management, and I spent years designing landscapes. So, I've been around plants most of my life.

Still, running a blueberry farm is a different kind of challenge.

We have about 7 acres of blueberries — roughly 3,800 plants — and we harvest around 18,000 pounds a year.

The catch is that it all happens in about a 30-day window in July. That month is intense, but the work doesn't end with the season. The rest of the year is spent on preparing for the next one.

I've kept my full-time job in the lumber industry through all of this. We tend to call the farm my self-supporting hobby, but the truth is, even a small farm like ours struggles to make a dollar.

By the time you pay for inputs, repairs, improvements, and all the other costs that come with a small business, there's not much left.

If I were younger, I'd do it differently

At this stage of life, I think differently about what the farm should be. If I were 25 or 30 years younger, I wouldn't run it the way I do now.

Right now, we're heavily focused on one crop. If I were starting earlier, I'd cut the number of blueberry bushes down — maybe from 3,800 to about 2,000 — and use the rest of the land for other crops. Strawberries, raspberries, pumpkins — something to stretch income across more of the year.

That's the biggest challenge with what we do. When you rely on a single crop and a short season, it's hard to build a stable living.

We've found ways to spread out the income a bit. We freeze blueberries — about 1,900 pounds a year — and sell them through the winter at local markets and to restaurants.

Becoming USDA-certified organic was a game changer

We started farming organically from day one in 2018, but it took time to make it official. To become USDA certified organic, we had to go through a required three-year transition period — documenting everything we did, from fertilizers to pest control, and proving we were following the standards.

We finally got certified in spring 2021, and once we could call our berries "USDA organic," we saw more customers, more traffic, and even people driving an hour or more to pick our fruit.

But over time, the downsides started to add up. The certification cost us about $1,400 a year — a big expense for a small farm — and required inspections and paperwork during our busiest season. More importantly, I grew frustrated with what I saw as inconsistencies in the system.

In early 2024, we gave up our USDA certification and switched to Certified Naturally Grown, a smaller, farmer-led program. It costs about $350 a year and still holds us accountable to the National Organic Program Standards, but in a way that is more transparent and aligned with how we actually farm.

We know we won't do this forever

Realistically, we'll probably run the farm for another three to five years and then look to sell it, so that we can have more freedom to travel and visit our three kids and nine grandchildren.

I think about what a younger person could do with this place. It's a productive farm with a lot of potential. Someone with more time and energy could take it further than we have.

Even knowing what I know now, I'd still buy the farm.

We're happy with what we've built. It gave me a chance to finally run my own business and to work with something I've always loved — plants. And it's been meaningful to us to see people come here, enjoy the farm, and tell us how much they like it.

• Meta told staff on Thursday that it planned to eliminate 10% of its workforce.
• Inside the company, employees are bracing for weeks of limbo as they wait to find out who will be cut.
• Meta employees responded internally with a mixture of questions, concerns, and jokes.

Welcome to "28 days of hell."

That's how one Meta employee characterized the tech giant's announcement that thousands of jobs will be cut on May 20. Employees flooded internal forums with similar posts, many of which were filled with anxiety, dark humor, and questions as they wait to learn who will be out of a job.

"How are you motivating yourself to work for the next 1 month with layoffs confirmed?" one person posted on the anonymous workplace app Blind, in a section just for Meta employees.

Someone else replied, "I'm motivating myself to do stuff that I can put on my resume for my next job lol."

In a memo sent to staff on Thursday, Meta said it shared some layoff details earlier than usual because the news had already leaked. The company plans to cut around 10% of employees next month and close 6,000 open roles.

"I know this leaves everyone with nearly a month of ambiguity, which is incredibly unsettling," wrote Meta's chief people officer Janelle Gale.

For some Meta employees, the fact that company leadership acknowledged layoffs brought some relief. The layoffs had been so widely discussed internally that the announcement helped ease some uncertainty, according to one employee who declined to be named due to the sensitivity of the matter.

One of the top comments under Gale's internal Meta post was a picture of an elephant, a reference to leadership addressing the elephant in the room. Reuters first reported Meta was planning sweeping layoffs in March, and employees have been speculating on the extent of the cuts in the weeks since.

"elephant addressed!" commented another employee. Another posted a picture of an envelope that read: "Addressed to: "ELEPHANT."

Others said that having to wait almost a month to find out who would be affected created anxiety. One person posted that this was their first week at the company. "It might be goodbye for me," they wrote.

Another employee told Business Insider that the announcement added pressure for them to deliver results over the next month because it's unknown which teams will be affected by the cuts.

"I'm a little stressed about making impact in the next month," they said.

Despite a sense of added pressure, it's not the employee's first go-around with cuts at the company. The worker said they're going to continue working as usual, assuming the worst while trying to make the most of the next month as they wait for further updates.

"I assume I'm always two months away from being laid off, no matter what leadership says, so I'm going to continue to operate as usual," the employee said.

Employees also commented on Gale's internal post with questions.

One person asked if Meta staff would receive their August 15 stock payouts, which are part of some employees' compensation packages. Gale said that impacted employees would have a termination date prior to the August vest and would therefore not receive it.

"Because of the timing of the notifications, we will have just had the May 15 vest. There are some instances, based on work location, where people will remain employed through the August 15 vest," Gale wrote. Another employee thanked Gale for the clarification.

Another employee asked if travel would be restricted the week of May 20. "We are not restricting travel company-wide. VPs will share team-specific guidance," Gale responded.

'I feel more anxious about surviving'

On the Meta employee section of Blind, some users asked why Meta couldn't offer voluntary buyouts. Microsoft on Thursday offered one-time early retirement buyouts to thousands of its long-time employees, and Google has extended the same offers to staff across some orgs.

Many posts were from users asking others for information about which groups might be affected.

In a longer post, one user said the downside might be surviving the cuts.

"I feel more anxious about surviving this layoff," they wrote, recalling several rounds of layoffs at the company since 2022.

"Because we all know it's just gonna get worse for those of us who are left behind and have to absorb even more work, amongst other declining factors in this sad fearful company," they wrote.

• Greg Smith started tutoring the LSAT in law school.
• He automated a course and out-earned his lawyer salary selling it.
• He grew and scaled a learning platform that now generates $75 million in annual revenue.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Greg Smith, CEO of Thinkific. It has been edited for length and clarity.

I became interested in corporate law because of the role lawyers play in pivotal business decisions. As a CEO, I might navigate a merger or IPO only once or twice, but as a corporate lawyer, I'd be dealing with them constantly. It seemed to me there were more exciting corporate transactions in a few years of corporate law than there were in two lifetimes of being a CEO.

That pushed me to go to law school. While there, I started tutoring for the LSAT to help pay my bills, including student loan payments. I realized that a lot of my tutoring was repetitive, but I was limited by how many students I could fit into a room. I wanted to reach more people, have more impact, and generate more revenue.

So, in 2005, I launched an automated course. The course started generating thousands of dollars a month, without me investing much time or money. Once, when I had a month of my law job, I really focused on promoting the course, and it generated $10,000 in a month — more than I was making in my corporate role. That was a real signal that I should go deeper with this.

Soon, others asked me to help build their course platforms

I had always been drawn to entrepreneurship — probably because my parents were always thinking about their big ideas, but never able to follow through because of their day jobs. One time, on a plane ride, I had an aha moment: I needed to build a business.

I didn't immediately think about my course. Instead, I left my lawyer job for another startup opportunity, but that didn't pan out.

As I considered my options, I realized that other people and companies were already approaching me about helping them create a platform to support their own educational courses. I had inbound leads, and the solution they were looking for, so I decided to give it a try. In 2012, I founded Thinkific.

My brother was a cofounder, but we often butted heads

My brother Matt, who is eight years younger, saw me struggling to write code. He stepped in to help and became a cofounder. In the early days, there was a fair amount of healthy and unhealthy conflict between us in the office. We were driven and wanted to reach the same place, but we had different ideas about how to get there.

We both wanted to be the CEO — the one making major decisions. But in reality, there weren't that many decisions to be made. After three years of working together, Matt left to pursue another idea. Although we'd had disagreements at work, we always got along well on the weekends.

As Thinkific continued to grow and scale, Matt became one of my most trusted advisors. He briefly rejoined the company as Chief Strategy Officer, and our dynamic was very different. The company was growing so fast that we had tons of decisions to make, and I was grateful for anything he could take off my plate. Today, he's an advisor to the board. He's also the guy I can call when I'm struggling, just to talk.

I teach my kids to be proud of their failures

My kids are 7 and 10, and I talk to them a lot about failure. When my daughter was about 3, she asked what failure was. I told her that when something doesn't go the way you want, it's a huge opportunity.

Now, I'll regularly ask the kids about the things they failed at, to show them they should be proud of their failures. They love talking about it so much that they'll tell other kids, "You failed!" like it's the most exciting thing. Sometimes other parents give me the side eye about that, but I'm glad that their approach to failure is healthy — that will help them when they're trying new things.

• On Tuesday, Meta advised some employees to work from home. The next day, the company began layoffs.
• Getting laid off remotely offers privacy, but can feel isolating — for affected employees and survivors alike.
• Would you rather find out about layoffs in an office or while working remotely? Take our survey.

Getting laid off sucks, yet how it happens matters, too.

On Tuesday, Meta told some employees to work from home the next day, ahead of the company's latest round of layoffs. The move touches on an anxiety familiar to many: not only whether you'll get cut, but how — and where — you'll find out.

Six years on from the start of the pandemic, many desk workers remain in hybrid roles. That's shifted the mechanics of layoffs. What was once typically handled in a conference room or the boss's office might now unfold on a screen or by email.

As more companies trim their workforces, the question is carrying greater weight. It may not have an easy answer.

"You can have poor execution in person. You can have poor execution remotely," said Sarah Rodehorst, cofounder and CEO of Onwards HR, which helps companies manage severance and offboarding.

At home vs. IRL

Being at home can allow people to process the news on their own terms — without the risk of crying in front of colleagues. It can also pose fewer security concerns for companies worried about employees lashing out on their way out the actual door.

Making cuts from afar can also make it easier on managers, who don't have to directly face the person they're letting go, said Ben Hardy, a clinical professor of organizational behavior at London Business School.

"It's a bit like divorcing someone through text message," he said of cutting jobs where one person delivers bad news to many others. It's too impersonal, Hardy told Business Insider, for an intimate topic. One-on-one communication is better, he said.

Getting laid off in-person might mean trying to hold it together in front of colleagues, yet it can also give people a chance to say goodbye to coworkers and make plans to keep in touch — or gather afterward to commiserate.

Ultimately, what matters most is handling layoffs with empathy and preserving the human element, said Rodehorst.

Calling someone into an office only to lay them off might not always be the best decision, she told Business Insider.

"Remote can actually preserve some privacy," Rodehorst said.

Of course, layoffs generally feel awful in any case. Some workers have pushed back at cuts via video, saying that it feels impersonal.

What do you think?

How do you feel about where layoffs should take place? Take our poll.

• Jatee Kearsley's bakery, Je T'aime Patisserie, gained fame after a viral feature on Righteous Eats.
• Going viral changed the trajectory of her business but took a toll on her mental health.
• Kearsley says she wouldn't want to go viral again, even though that may sound ungrateful.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Jatee Kearsley, the owner and pastry chef of Je T'aime Patisserie, which offers a "Black girl twist" on French pastries in Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn. It has been edited for length and clarity.

In April 2024, I sat in my bakery with my Bible study group and told them I had $2,000 in my bank account and no idea how I was going to pay my employees the next day.

When I opened my bakery a year prior, I knew it would be hard. I had taken out loans. I had put in my own savings. I understood that small businesses require money for everything: rent, ingredients, payroll, insurance, and taxes.

Still, nothing prepares you for sitting in your own store and realizing you might not be able to cover payroll. Then, the day after meeting with my Bible study group, everything changed.

We were featured on Righteous Eats, a social media feed run by Jaeki Cho and Brian Lee that features New York City restaurants. The video went viral, and by the following weekend, my bank account looked completely different.

Going viral was a blessing. I will never pretend it wasn't. It changed the trajectory of my business. However, I don't think people talk enough about what going viral does to your mental health.

For me mentally, I don't want to go viral again. That might sound ungrateful, but it's honest.

Going viral didn't make the work easier

On a normal day before going viral, my team and I of about four, were making, on average, 200 croissants a week. After we went viral, demand shot up to about 200 croissants every other day.

I specifically remember selling four chocolate croissants the day before going viral and then 30 the day of. We make all types of croissants from scratch: chocolate, almond, ham and cheese, blueberry cheesecake, and more.

We laminate the dough, hand-roll each one, proof them, bake them, and fill them. Going viral didn't make our team any bigger, and I had to loop in friends, family, and volunteers to help fill orders and deliveries.

There were weekends when it was just me and one other person in the bakery at 6 a.m., trying to keep up.

Other days, I was filling 160 mini croissants for catering orders on top of regular production. I've even hand-rolled croissants on my day off because there was no one else to do it.

Going viral brought more customers, but it also brought higher expectations

People would leave reviews saying they waited hours, only to find we were sold out. I didn't want to disappoint anyone. So I slept on a bench in the bakery for a week straight after going viral to make sure I was keeping up with the demand that was needed during that time.

There's also the emotional weight that comes with virality. When we went viral the first time, it was exciting. It also meant strangers had opinions about everything: my prices, my neighborhood, the fact that I accept Electronic Benefits Transfer.

I accept EBT because I know what underserved, overlooked communities of people are dealing with. And I never wanted there to be a moment where someone walked into Je T'aime Patisserie and wasn't able to afford it.

I specifically wanted Je T'aime Patisserie to be in a neighborhood where people don't have things. Historically, Bed-Stuy is an underserved, overlooked food desert.

So, it was super important for me to make sure that my food impacts the neighborhood by providing high-quality, fresh pastries. People thought that accepting EBT was going to ruin my business, but it actually helped.

Everything I have achieved with my shop is because I accept all types of people in my store, including EBT and SNAP holders.

It's not about the money or going viral

I know this is Business Insider, and we're supposed to talk about numbers. But if I'm being honest, this has never been about the money for me.

If this were just about money, I would make different decisions. I would raise my prices more aggressively. I would stop worrying about whether a single mom can afford a croissant. I would probably choose a different neighborhood.

But I opened in Bed-Stuy on purpose. People told me my bakery "belonged" in Manhattan. I disagreed. I wanted someone who has never tried a fresh croissant or a quiche to walk into my shop and feel like they deserve it.

Financially, EBT makes up a small percentage of my revenue. But the support and gratitude from those customers mean more to me than the dollar amount ever could.

If I could run this business without making money, I would. Unfortunately, that's not realistic in New York City. You need money to survive. But my passion has always been about helping people and impacting my community.

• Epic Games announced it would cut over 1,000 employees, or about 20% of its workforce.
• CEO Tim Sweeney says the layoffs aren't AI-driven and that the company still needs software developers.
• He cited a 'downturn in Fortnite engagement' and said rising costs forced cuts.

Epic Games announced that it was laying off more than 1,000 employees, but the "Fortnite" maker's CEO says it's not because of AI.

Tim Sweeney said in a memo to employees shared online Tuesday that the cuts, affecting about 20% of its workforce, reflect industry-wide challenges, including slower growth, weaker spending, and tougher cost dynamics.

"Since it's a thing now, I should note that the layoffs aren't related to AI," he wrote. "To the extent it improves productivity, we want to have as many awesome developers developing great content and tech as we can."

A growing number of employers have recently cited AI as a reason for making deep cuts to their head counts. Recent examples include Block and Atlassian.

Tuesday's cuts, which come two years after Epic struck a $1.5 billion licensing deal with Disney, are significant, said Joost van Dreunen, CEO of the game-analytics firm Aldora Intelligence and a professor at New York University's Stern School of Business.

"It's an acknowledgement of the change in the industry that's taking place, particularly among American publishers, when one of the most popular game makers is finding itself having to let go of 1,000 people," he said. "It suggests that we're witnessing the decline of American cultural dominance in the video games industry."

Though the global games industry grew revenue — roughly 4.5% last year, according to Aldora — most of that growth came from outside the US, said Van Dreunen. "The consumer gravity point is moving eastward," he said.

The game industry's workforce has been contracting in recent years following a pandemic-era boom. An estimated 5,300 jobs were cut last year, and 14,600 were axed in 2024, according to an online tally of termination announcements and news reports by Farhan Noor, a technical artist in California.

Epic last had layoffs in 2023, affecting 16% of its workforce. Those layoffs were a first for the company, which was founded in the 1990s. In his memo, Sweeney indicated that the latest cuts are a painful necessity.

"The downturn in Fortnite engagement that started in 2025 means we're spending significantly more than we're making, and we have to make major cuts to keep the company funded," he wrote. "This layoff, together with over $500 million of identified cost savings in contracting, marketing, and closing some open roles puts us in a more stable place."

• I booked a trip to an important work conference to network and meet with potential clients.
• When I got to the Hartsfield-Jackson Airport in Atlanta, I saw the long TSA lines and waited hours.
• I missed my flight and the conference, which cost me business opportunities.

This wasn't just a missed flight. It was my path to a room full of investors at the Transform conference in Las Vegas. It was the kind of access that matters when you're building a new coaching business, and every connection could change your trajectory.

The night before, there was a moment that now feels like eerie foreshadowing. My husband asked what time to set the alarm for so he could take me to the airport. He thought my flight was at 7:35 a.m., not 7:35 p.m. We laughed it off.

In retrospect, we probably should have gone with his plan. If I had gotten there 12 hours early, I might've made that flight. Instead, I did what most of us do. I planned carefully.

Before leaving, I asked my 17-year-old to check TSA wait times. He said it was 45 minutes. I smiled, thinking that sounded too good to be true. From experience, a posted 45-minute wait usually means closer to two hours. I accounted for that.

What I didn't account for was five.

The TSA line wrapped around baggage carousels

By the time I reached Hartsfield-Jackson Airport on Sunday afternoon, the line was too long to be just 45 minutes. It wrapped around baggage carousels and thickened into a dense, slow maze past carousel nine.

I tried to be patient, but none of us was going anywhere. I kept checking the time on my Fitbit, then on my phone, as if one might offer a different reality. I was trying to make sense of what I couldn't control.

That's when something shifted. I couldn't move the line, but I could choose how I met the moment — whether I spiraled into frustration or grounded myself in what I could still impact.

While still in line, I pulled up the Delta app to rebook. Every flight to Las Vegas on Sunday night was sold out. At the same time, I started texting with Delta customer service. They advised me to go to the baggage help area and request that my luggage be removed from the plane.

They submitted the request. I waited, hoping there was still time. Then the status on my FlyDelta app changed to "On board."

I never made it to the gate, but my bag did. While I was returning home, my bag was in Vegas, living its best life without me.

This wasn't just any trip; it was a room I needed to be in

For someone building a new coaching business, the kind of access I would have gotten at the conference is essential.

Transform is a conference focused on the future of work. This year's theme, centered on the Human + AI equation, brings together founders, investors, and leaders to explore how organizations are evolving in real time.

Through curated meetings, hands-on sessions, and structured networking like FastPass, conference attendees are matched with the right people rather than the casual introductions many conferences offer. That was the part I was most excited about.

I had four pre-planned meetings scheduled. Those were conversations that could have turned into partnerships, clients, or long-term collaborations.

I also invested time and resources into being there. While my conference ticket was covered through a volunteer role and I now have a flight credit with Delta, I am still working through hotel charges and other trip expenses I never completed. I rescheduled existing clients to make space for the trip, which means a delay in guaranteed revenue.

More than that, I can't stop thinking about the potential revenue and relationships that could've come from simply being in the room. As an entrepreneur, those moments matter. They are often where momentum begins.

These TSA delays are affecting all of us in different ways

What I experienced isn't unique. Long security delays are causing people to miss flights and opportunities that may never come back. Those impacts show up in the quiet ways our lives are rerouted: a room we never enter, a conversation that doesn't happen, or a deal that doesn't get made.

We call delays inconveniences, but sometimes they cost access. And in business, access is everything.

Behind every long line is a real cost: time lost, plans disrupted, or opportunities missed. We don't always see those costs. But we feel them.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Hady Kfoury, the founder and CEO of Naya, a Middle Eastern-inspired food chain. The following has been edited for length and clarity.

I created Naya to share the authentic Middle Eastern flavors I grew up with, in a modern and fast-casual way. Today, we have 43 locations. We're adding 12 more this year, and 25 next year. Our goal is to reach 200 locations by 2030.

It takes a lot of work and it's a competitive environment.

I'm very proud that I'm a CEO and still so hands-on. I work a lot — and I'm not saying this is a healthy lifestyle.

I wake up around 6 a.m.

I try to have a peaceful hour before the rest of my family wakes up. Recently, I've been exercising in the morning because I find it difficult to do it after work, especially if I get home late. So I try to work out between 6:20 and 6:50.

I call my mom at 6:50 a.m. every morning

I call my mom usually every day at 6:50 a.m. We speak for about five to 10 minutes.

My mom is an unbelievable cook and she hosted a lot growing up. She would have 20 to 100 people over for dinner and cook everything from scratch, with flower arrangements and everything. She's a great resource when it comes to understanding the food trends in Lebanon.

I don't eat breakfast during the week

Monday through Friday, I drink tons of coffee but no breakfast. On weekends I eat a heavy breakfast. I don't know why, but that's how my body works.

I wake up my kids and my wife prepares breakfast for them. Then we leave home by 7:50 a.m. and walk to school. My children go to a French International school. Lebanon was a French colony for many years and it was my first language. So I wanted to pass that down to my kids.

I refuse to have an assistant

Our office is next to Grand Central and I head there after dropping my kids off around 8:15 a.m.

I refuse to have an assistant and I schedule everything myself. I'm very into routines and habit. I don't want to have to talk to someone right after I finish a call. I'd rather take a half-hour break and tackle my emails first. It would be very hard to have someone schedule my day and not know what I really need between meetings.

I go to Naya every day

We're surrounded by roughly eight or nine restaurants within a few minutes walking distance. So I go to one every day.

I switch up a lot, but my go-to order is a chicken kebab with a lot of tahini. 70% of our sales go to chicken shawarma. So I try to have that as well, to confirm consistency.

I try and be as incognito as possible. If I go during a lunch rush, I avoid talking to the team and just evaluate the experience. The quality of the food is extremely important.

Sometimes on my way to work, I'll go into a restaurant before opening. I try to make it feel like I'm a partner — not the boss — and everything is business as usual. I ask workers if anything is bothering them, how things are moving, and then I do some spot checks on food quality and cleanliness.

I have a lot of calls to import ingredients

I don't want to turn Naya into an import-export business but I'd love to get 20 to 30% of our products to come straight from Lebanon. We need to be authentic and true to our toots.

It takes a lot of coordination because there's a seven-hour timezone difference. Lebanon also operates differently and that's another challenge. Samples can take time, especially when it's a refrigerted product, so it's a lot of communication.

The tariffs add another layer of complications. I've been trying to negotiate and split the difference between us and our manufacturers. It hasn't been so bad for Lebanon so far, but the uncertainty stresses us.

I have dinner with my aunt once a week

Similar to my mom, my aunt is an unbelievable cook. We have dinner together once a week at her place and she cooks a little bit of everything, but with a big focus on Lebanese food. It's very hard to take her recipes and scale it commercially, but she's an unbelievable person to go for new ideas.

I work 14- to 16-hour days

I try to get home by 7:30 p.m. It's important for me to have dinner with the kids. I try to limit myself to two to three business dinners or events per week. When I have those, I go straight from the office to dinner and then I'm back home by around 10 p.m.

I'm constantly working. I check my emails on the subway and while I'm walking on the streets of New York. Even when I watch TV, I try to shift to something industry-related, either from an entrepreneurial perspective or cooking.

Right now, we're emerging and there's so much going on, that I think my presence is very important. So it's an easy 14- to 16-hours a day.

I used to get copies of every review

I can't sleep well knowing that I have so many unread emails. For almost 17 years, I would get a copy of every customer review from Yelp, Google, or customer support.

About three months ago, I handed it over to someone that I trust who has a great grip on the customer experience. Now she sends me weekly reports on how things are going and I reduced my email intake by at least 150 emails per day.

Sometimes I would get emails with a complaint and even if it was 11 p.m., I would email the general manager and ask what went wrong. I learned I should not do that because it stresses out the team and it's not healthy.

I spend my summer weekends in Connecticut

I try to disconnect as much as possible on the weekends, but I still have to spend four or five hours catching up. I love to work a bit on Sunday just to get ready for Monday before it gets crazy.

I spend my summer weekends in a town called Litchfield, Connecticut. We're part of a community that has tennis courts. I play four or five hours on Sunday. It's a lot of socializing and fun.

I play chess before bed

I was told to stop playing chess before bed and give myself an hour break. I'm hooked on Chess.com, where you can play with real people. It's a great way to end my day.

I try to read half an hour before bed and completely disconnect. I love reading, but I don't do more than five to 10 pages a night.

I go to bed around 11:30 p.m. My sleep score varies, but it never goes above 80. I'm trying to get better at that. I try to avoid wine at night. When I don't drink and I disconnect from screens an hour or two before bed, I sleep much better.

• BNY's CEO, Robin Vince, is all in on AI's role in steering the bank's future.
• Now, some managers oversee the bank's 140 digital employees, a form of agentic AI.
• We spoke to Vince and a BNY managing director about the program.

Despite its 240-year pedigree, BNY isn't showing its age.

Under CEO Robin Vince, who took the reins in 2022, the firm — founded by Alexander Hamilton — is aggressively embracing AI. Recently, it has begun entrusting some managers with oversight of a contingent of new workers who don't even require a chair: the digital employee.

"All digital employees report to a human manager," Vince said in an interview with Business Insider this month in Palm Beach.

These digital employees create a layered effect with the company's agentic products, in which a single entity coordinates the activities of multiple individual agents. The digital workforce is more than 140 agents strong, each one with roughly two dozen skills, give or take, comprising their suite of abilities.

And, just like humans, they're held accountable for their work — with performance reviews.

After executing a variety of tasks humans might find tedious, the digital employee presents it to "the human who's responsible for the process — 'I've just done three quarters of the work for you. And by the way, I did it in 10 minutes instead of what would have otherwise been two weeks," the CEO explained.

About 100 managers across the firm oversee digital employees, including Rachel Lewis, a managing director and a two-decade BNY veteran who now serves as head of AI enablement for operations. Appointed to the role this year, Lewis is now helping teams across the bank build and deploy digital employees within their day-to-day workflows.

"We're kind of transferring the mundane to the machines," she said, describing how the tools are taking over routine processes and shifting how work gets done.

Lewis told Business Insider she works closely with teams across BNY to help them develop their own digital employees — often starting with ideas that come directly from the people doing the work and turning them into tools over time.

"The person that came up with that idea actually gets the opportunity to build that digital employee," she said. As teams begin to incorporate them into their workflows, she added, the technology starts to feel less like software and more like part of the team. "It's just almost having a virtual teammate as part of your group."

170,000 hours of training

To prepare for the AI age, BNY implemented a massive 170,000-hour AI training program for its 48,000 staffers. "Everyone in the company has done two to three hours," he said. The goal was to turn employees into a new class of supervisors who managed, rather than competed with, the machine. "We're investing in our people, because I want them to be the unlockers and users of AI," Vince added.

Last week, he sent a memo to several thousand of the firm's senior leaders pointing to some of the firm's past efforts in AI and encouraging them to be proactive in continuing to incorporate it. "We have an obligation to our company to capture this opportunity," Vince wrote in the email, whose subject line was "Reimagining BNY."

"This is a fundamental leadership shift, not simply a capability shift," he added. "It will require each of us to lean in and role-model how to engage with AI and how to harness it to solve problems."

Speaking to Business Insider, Vince described his first personal deep dive into AI as a "summer project" that kicked off in 2023 and never ended.

It was sparked by a YouTube video he saw that broke down the functionality of Tesla's Autopilot 12. He watched as the car observed human behavior and applied what it saw to navigating a stop sign, rather than adhering to a few rigid lines of code. "It was very clear to me that the future of AI was going to be learning to make decisions," Vince said. He wanted to bring that same adaptive intelligence to the bank. "It was highly applicable to our businesses," he added, "and it would be able to be a very fundamental input to how we actually ran the company."

Expanding the digital workforce

While some of the earliest digital employees have applications focused on straightforward fixes like data repair and data capture, Lewis said the tools that have stood out most are those that make it easier for employees to build and refine their own digital employees.

Building a digital employee starts with observing how work is actually done. Teams record themselves completing tasks step by step, allowing the system to analyze different approaches and identify the most efficient way to perform the work. That output is then used to generate the instructions that guide a digital employee, which are refined over time as teams train the system on new variations of the task.

Lewis said that as digital employees become embedded in workflows, teams are also treating them more like members of the workforce. "There is a performance review," she said.

Managers evaluate how the systems perform by reviewing outputs, identifying where they skip tasks or "didn't perform as expected," and feeding that work back into the system to be retrained on new variations and edge cases.

"We're continuously monitoring them," she added. "Every week it gets a little bit better."

Even as it expands its digital workforce, Vince said there are no plans to cut back on human capital; these tools, he said, are meant to supercharge their workflow, but not take responsibilities out of their hands. "I speak to CEOs who say, 'We're going to downsize, massively, our campus program.'" Vince's reply? "Why would you do that?"

"We've got the opportunity to have young people who are pre-trained in AI, enthusiastic, and be able to add to our business in different ways," he said.

• Marie Pabelonio, a Google editorial lead, graduated from college with an English degree in 2009.
• She highlights the value of her English degree in adapting to AI's impact in the tech industry.
• AI helps her meet deadlines and focus on the bigger picture, but a human touch is still essential.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Marie Pabelonio, a 38-year-old editorial lead at Google, based in the Bay Area. This story has been edited for length and clarity.

I've been at Google since 2019, and as a writer, I knew AI would affect my role.

Looking back on my career trajectory, it feels like nothing short of a miracle that I ended up where I am. I graduated with an English degree in 2009, right after the financial crisis, and I'm now an editorial lead in people operations at Google, where I co-lead a small team that drafts and editorializes about 4,500-plus pages of HR policies. I've used AI to automate processes, refine drafts, templatize, and meet deadlines that would be impossible otherwise.

At this point, anyone, regardless of whether they're a writer or not, has felt it: Is AI going to automate me? Is it going to eventually just replace my job? I don't think I work more or less because of AI; I just work very differently.

I was a humanities major and fell into Big Tech

The job market felt very volatile when I entered it, which I think a lot of young people entering the workforce today feel.

I didn't have a career plan. I was an English major because I loved reading and writing, and if I found a job where I could do that and build a specific skill set on top of it, I would be OK.

My first job was as a fact-checker for the publishing arm of an industrial supply company, and then I became a copywriter in the advertising and marketing space. In 2016, I moved from Chicago to the Bay Area and became an editor at Amazon's subsidiary, Goodreads. I stayed in the Bay Area and made my way to Google by 2019.

I wasn't surprised that AI changed my job right away

We've heard the word "unprecedented" so much in the last six years or so that nothing surprises me anymore, including AI.

My team works with stakeholders and policy designers to interpret and draft policies, whether they're return-to-office, hybrid work, or immigration policies. There are areas where AI is useful in our work, and the tool has helped us regain more strategic time by automating tactical parts of our process.

This includes training the AI on standard article structure, to include four sections like background, key details, process, and related resources, formatting consistencies, including where headlines, a bulleted list, or a table would be used, and five to seven non-negotiable details the user needs to know from the policy.

I think there's still a lot of room for that human touch in that process. Once I have the output, I spend my time on the more strategic pieces, like verifying tone and voice, determining whether the article actually achieves the user goal, and how it fits with the broader content strategy of other articles.

In our writing, the goal is to inject humanity and warmth as much as possible, especially when explaining human resources topics like an employee's health insurance, compensation, performance reviews, and career growth. AI can't do that by itself.

AI saved me when I had a tight deadline

Around the time we started using AI, I had a big project to update existing policies, and I was on a tight deadline. I spent a lot of time upfront strategizing about how I could use AI to accelerate my work and meet my goals.

To address the overwhelming number of first drafts, I used AI to template a structure for readability, created a checklist for tone, style, and quality, and because of that was able to focus more on streamlining stakeholder reviews to check for accuracy. I met my deadline with a few days to spare. This was when it clicked for me that AI was changing things in a huge way, when this deadline looked really impossible, and then it wasn't.

Still, there were many times I had to validate and tweak the outputs. I never felt I could use AI as my secretary and leave it alone to do whatever it wanted.

Studying the humanities gave me a particular edge in the AI job market

I think there will be more of a premium on how we think, not what we know.

When it comes to writing, it's about being able to articulate the reasons behind your choices. Why this phrase and not that? Why put this insight here and not there? There's a rationale behind your judgment.

In job interviews, the question of how you use AI at work will inevitably come up now, and your AI output is only as good as your input. Good writers can get better, but bad writers can get worse, and just because you're writing fluently doesn't mean you're writing well. Studying literature so closely helped me reflect more on questions instead of answers.

This is the time to brag about how you develop your own sound judgment and how you use that judgment in your AI inputs. As good as it is to develop hard skills, it's just as important, now more than ever, to focus on soft skills too.

Do you have a story to share about your writing job in tech or AI? Contact this reporter, Agnes Applegate, at aapplegate@businessinsider.com.

• Taylor M. LaSane built a career coaching side hustle while working at Google.
• Last year, she accepted a voluntary buyout to focus on her business full-time.
• She shared why she made the leap — and her advice for others weighing major career moves.

Last June, Taylor M. LaSane faced a decision she'd been weighing for years: whether to walk away from her six-figure salary at Google to go all in on the career coaching business she started three years earlier.

Google had just offered voluntary buyouts to some US-based employees, including those in the finance organization where she worked, positioning the program as an option for workers who didn't feel "all in" on the company's direction.

LaSane said her buyout offer included just under six months of severance pay. While the payout would help ease her transition to entrepreneurship, the risk was still significant. She said her income from the business was roughly 10% of what she earned at Google — and she had to weigh the financial implications for her husband and their twin toddlers.

Around this time, LaSane learned about the unexpected death of her uncle at the age of 62. She said he had recently retired and been looking forward to having time to "relax and actually live." His death, coupled with the buyout offer, made her question how long she was willing to wait to pursue her own plans.

"It was a reminder that life is too short to wait for permission," said LaSane, who is 32 and lives in Atlanta.

She ultimately decided to apply for the buyout and, after being accepted, took the offer — with her employment formally ending in October.

Over the past year, I've interviewed more than a dozen workers like LaSane, many of them from Big Tech companies, who chose to quit their jobs without having another role lined up. Some eventually landed at another large company. Others stepped away from the corporate world entirely — joining smaller firms, launching their own ventures, pursuing career pivots, or focusing on personal priorities, such as parenting.

These people have become outliers in an economy where workers are quitting at one of the lowest rates in the past decade — a trend fueled by a hiring slowdown across tech and other sectors that has left many holding tightly to their jobs with few appealing alternatives.

Those who walked away told me they did so for a range of reasons: concerns about job security, changes in workplace culture, entrepreneurial ambitions, or a desire for more meaningful work. The common theme: they were seeking greater long-term control over their careers.

TikTok visibility and motherhood slowed the business

In addition to LaSane's main role at Google, she volunteered as a career coach through an internal program for Google employees. She said she enjoyed the work and led as many as eight 40-minute coaching sessions in a given week.

In 2022, after seven years with Google, her growing interest in coaching — among other factors — began laying the foundation for her eventual exit.

That February, she began making career-focused TikTok videos. Around the same time, she began questioning whether her role was the right fit for her after she worked hard for a promotion, earned it, and still felt an "empty feeling."

"I was taking meetings at 2 o'clock in the morning, my hair was falling out, it was not a great time," she said. "And then I got the promotion, and I felt worse than I did before."

After reassessing her priorities, she took another step toward career coaching. In May 2022, she formally launched SHYNE, a coaching company focused on helping corporate professionals navigate career transitions. Later that year, in October, she earned a certification in leadership and performance coaching from Brown University.

From there, LaSane began taking on clients in her spare time and generating a modest income. But two factors held her back from pursuing the business more aggressively: the time constraints of juggling a full-time job and her growing concerns about the visibility of her growing TikTok presence.

LaSane said a few Google colleagues mentioned seeing her videos, and while she was never discouraged from posting, she worried about the potential career implications of being so visible online. So she decided to scale back her posting.

"I think I was trying to balance having a business on the side, but also managing the internal corporate brand," she said.

In 2023, another development pulled her away from her side business: she became pregnant with twins. In May of that year, LaSane took a break from the business that lasted until around September 2024 — spanning her pregnancy and about 10 months away from work, including eight months of company-provided maternity leave and two months of vacation and medical leave. When she returned to Google in the fall, she also refocused on growing her business.

Going all in on entrepreneurship

LaSane decided to trade TikTok for LinkedIn as her primary platform — and leaned more into group coaching and live events. Then in early 2025, she began questioning more seriously whether her position at Google was still the right fit, as organizational changes — including a growing emphasis on AI — left her increasingly uncertain about her responsibilities and long-term path.

At the same time, she believed in her business's potential — and felt the eight to 20 hours a week she could devote to it outside work and family obligations were limiting its growth. She also weighed her job security at Google, which she felt wasn't guaranteed.

"Big Tech layoffs are happening everywhere, so it wasn't like staying there was necessarily any more stable than leaving," she said.

So when she learned about Google's buyout option and mulled it over, she decided to apply and was approved. After assessing her family's financial situation — which included her husband's income and her business earnings — she accepted the offer.

LaSane said that, on the whole, Google was a "great company to work for," adding that the community she built there is what she'll remember most fondly.

In recent months, LaSane said her business has evolved from a focus on one-on-one coaching into a "career studio" with workshops and group coaching programs. She's not currently taking a personal salary from the business, but said individual events and programs have generated revenue. She said last year's Dream Day event — a live coaching workshop — brought in about $3,000 in revenue.

LaSane said she wants to give herself at least a year to pursue the business full-time before considering a pivot back to the corporate world.

"I thought about the story I wanted to tell my kids," she said. "That she took this kind of risk and was willing to bet on herself in this way — that's the story I want them to know. So I think bailing out too soon wouldn't fit the narrative."

Among her top pieces of advice for people navigating their careers: Chase the purpose and future you want — not the one you think you're supposed to have.

"If you get clear about that, everything else will fall in place," she said. "That's what happened for me."

• IBM's consulting arm monitors the work of AI agents using a real-time dashboard.
• IBM says AI agents have sped up security investigations, cutting task time from 45 to a few minutes.
• IBM Consulting's revenue reached $21 billion in 2025, driven by demand for AI solutions.

At IBM's consulting arm, the future isn't a slide deck or a strategy memo — it's a live dashboard where humans monitor the work of AI agents in real time.

Earlier this month, Mohamad Ali, senior vice president of IBM Consulting, walked Business Insider through the dashboard that the company both uses internally and recently released to clients.

"Every hour I can see what's going on with all the humans associated with digital workers," and vice versa, he said. "That is the new consulting model going forward."

The dashboard is known internally as "Consulting Advantage." The company unveiled it in 2024 to help its own consultants build and manage teams of AI agents. This January, it unveiled "Enterprise Advantage," a similar version of the platform for clients that allows them to build and manage AI agents at scale.

In recent years, the firm has made itself the testing ground for building and deploying digital workers as it prepares clients for a future defined by AI. Ali said the firm has digital staff working side by side with humans on more than 150 client engagements.

Take the example of a typical security operations center, he said. When an alert comes in, a human investigator would normally spend about 45 minutes combing through logs to figure out what went wrong and what to do next. At IBM, he said, that process is increasingly handled by AI.

Digital workers first "generate an investigation plan." Then they execute it in real time. Multiple agents tackle different parts of the problem simultaneously, passing tasks back and forth, he said. Then they run a risk analysis and produce a report. The process now takes just a couple of minutes. The findings are then passed back to a human — with key actions highlighted — and the human verifies it.

In January alone, IBM used this approach to complete 52,000 investigations, Ali said.

IBM has evolved dramatically from its early days as a maker of mainframe computers into a key player in the AI boom. The company said its generative AI department was valued at $12.5 billion during its fourth-quarter earnings call.

Its consulting department, especially, has seen an uptick due to demand for generative AI and services that help clients implement it. Consulting revenue for 2025 came in at over $21 billion, up from about $20.7 billion in 2024.

IBM Consulting has been around for decades. The company acquired PwC's consulting arm in 2002. PwC would later rebuild its consulting business after a five-year noncompete clause expired.

IBM Consulting now employs about 150,000 employees and says its work overlaps with the Big Four and more technology-focused firms like Accenture.

"We don't do, like, what markets you should be in," Ali said. "We do strategy around 'how do you take your corporate strategy and implement it?'"

And right now, he said, there's a big question in corporate strategy: How do you prepare for a world where humans work alongside AI agents?

• Some of the most common career advice doesn't always hold up.
• You don't necessarily need to find your passion or ascend the corporate ladder to like what you do.
• Because finding a job can be tough, it's important to think about which pieces of advice to follow.

Your boss might prefer a version of you that isn't entirely authentic.

One of the many pieces of career advice that emerged years ago — when the market was far friendlier — is the idea that we should bring our whole selves to work.

That doesn't always work, and it's starting to look a bit threadbare with age, especially because in many industries, employers are being more selective in their hiring.

"If you love wearing tight little leather outfits that are strapped on, I don't want to see that," said Margie Warrell, a leadership consultant and author of the book "The Courage Gap."

"That's not appropriate," she told Business Insider.

The whole-self idea is just one example of bumper-sticker wisdom meant to guide us through our careers, but that often doesn't hold up.

Here are six bits of trite work advice — and what to think about instead:

Find your passion

The impulse to align your work with what you love makes sense. Yet, feeling like you have to "find your passion" can also set you up to fail.

"That's probably as vague as it gets," said Jochen Menges, a professor of human resource management and leadership at the University of Zurich. "It's not an actionable goal."

He told Business Insider that a better approach would be to set goals centered on the emotion you want to feel in your work, such as pride, even though you might not experience it every day.

"If I align my emotional needs more with what I do — with my career prospects — then I'm a lot better off," he said. That, in turn, will accelerate your career, Menges said.

Make it a numbers game

When you're looking for a job, it can be tempting to click apply as many times as possible to increase your chances.

It's an understandable impulse. It feels good to do something tangible when so much of the search process is out of your control.

In a recent survey by the hiring software maker Greenhouse, 53% of recruiters said they review fewer than half of the applications they receive. The survey involved more than 600 recruiters and hiring managers.

While the spray-and-pray approach is tempting, it's generally not the best move. Networking to make connections inside an employer can often be more effective, recruiters say.

If you have a list of places you're targeting, you should network before the job gets posted, career coach Laura Labovich told Business Insider. That's because once a job listing is live, recruiters and hiring managers aren't likely to do more than point you to it.

Climb the ladder

The idea of ascending a corporate hierarchy has become outdated for some workers, said Christian Tröster, an Academy of Management scholar and a professor of leadership and organizational behavior at Germany's Kühne Logistics University.

Instead, he said, people might want to consider what he called a "protean" career — one that changes shape over time.

Tröster said that rather than ascending a ladder, a better aim for many workers would be to become "psychologically successful."

"The ultimate goal of your career is feeling proud and accomplished," he said.

One reason you might not want to scale the ladder is that a push by some leaders for "flatter" organizational structures — and the elimination of middle management — can mean there aren't as many rungs for ambitious workers to grab hold of.

"Careers today are no longer linear," Warrell said. Instead, workers might opt for a lateral move, a side gig, or a so-called portfolio career, where you take on multiple jobs to earn a living while maintaining flexibility.

Warrell said that workers who chart their own paths are often more fulfilled than those who try to grind their way up an org chart.

Don't jump around

Career advice once often included the suggestion that workers avoid changing jobs for at least a year to avoid appearing uncommitted to an organization.

While a string of frequent job changes can raise concerns among prospective employers, Warrell said prohibitions on job-hopping have often softened.

She said "smart" job changes — even in relatively quick succession — that indicate you're taking on extra responsibility and developing new skills can add polish, not tarnish, to a résumé.

"It can be seen as a sign of ambition, adaptability — not instability," Warrell said.

Focus on hard skills

Technical mastery — especially in hot areas like artificial intelligence — can take you far and leave you with your pick of jobs. Yet it's not the only route to career success.

AI is already taking on some of what software engineers do, for example. In surveys, employers often say they're after so-called soft skills, like communication and teamwork.

Menges said one reason soft skills are important is that humans will still be needed to evaluate what AI produces.

To help do that, he said, workers will need to rely in part on emotion for guidance. Menges said that in the 20th century, workers were often told to suppress their feelings at work.

"Now, you've got to bring those emotions back, because whatever AI does needs evaluation, and that evaluation comes down to how we feel about what appears on our screens," he said.

Bring your whole self to your job

While it might have been well-intentioned, critics have long found the idea of showing up at work as the unvarnished version of yourself to be problematic.

Ella F. Washington, a professor of practice at Georgetown University, previously told Business Insider that a better way to think about the idea is to bring your whole professional self to work.

That might mean working with people you might not like. Or, Warrell said, it could mean pushing through a bad mood.

"If one part of your whole self is that you're short-tempered and grumpy in the morning, don't bring that self to work," she said.

An earlier version of this story appeared on March 3, 2025.

After having her first child, Lindsay Thomas went back to her full-time, in-office job. When a second kid came in 2024, Thomas says she knew she didn't want to juggle everything again, so she negotiated a part-time, remote version of her communications role in medical research — working anywhere from 2 to 40 hours a month — and started picking up freelance work on the side.

Now, when a kid gets sick and Thomas is up all night — something that would have made her "spiral," when she worked in the office —she knows she'll be at home with flexibility to schedule her day. If Thomas hadn't had the option to freelance, she says, she would have chosen to stay home with the second kid — even though she hadn't envisioned herself as a stay-at-home mom. "There are costs to everything," she says of leaving her full-time gig. "The cost to our family, the cost to the stress levels, to mental health, to going back to doing that and knowing what it was gonna feel like for all of us, especially with an older child involved," she tells me, "that was just a cost we didn't want to absorb."

After making employment gains during the height of the pandemic, women have begun a downhill slide out of the workforce. The number of working mothers of young children between 25 to 44 fell nearly 3% from January and June of last year, hitting its lowest rate in more than three years, according to a Washington Post report. In December, 91,000 women older than 20 dropped out of the workforce. The number of men over 20 employed jumped by 10,000 that month, according to an analysis of federal jobs data from the National Women's Law Center.

AI is also affecting America's gender imbalance in the workforce. A March report from Anthropic found that those who work in roles with a high exposure to AI automation are 16% more likely to be female, putting women more at risk for layoffs.

An uptick in return to office mandates is also disproportionately pushing women to choose whether they'll be able to stay in a job that requires a commute as they also balance after school pickup and domestic responsibilities. And a wave of mass layoffs has upended employment security, workplace loyalty, and the job hunt.

Women make 85% of what men make at work on average and take on twice as much of the domestic labor and caregiving tasks at home. "The real friction is we just haven't built systems that allow people to integrate their work and their lives and and their desires and what do they want their life to look like," says Brea Starmer, CEO of staffing firm Lions and Tigers, which focuses on fractional workers. "For anyone that doesn't fit this very specific narrow look and feel and mold, there is just not a lot of options." In a bleak job market, freelancing is one way working parents can claw back power. And as AI adoption transforms company needs and could shift the number of workers and hours needed to work, employers are starting to see more value in hiring part-time and contract workers.

There's autonomy in ditching the full-time gig; but it often means making a choice between several imperfect paths.

The pandemic showed that flexible, remote work benefitted parents, particularly women. As of 2023, 74% of mothers worked, up from 72% in 2019, according to the Institute for Women's Policy Research. But many CEOs who are calling workers back to the office have metaphorically shrugged at the costs to women. A survey from the freelance platform Upwork found that more than half of executives reported losing a disproportionate number of women after implementing RTO policies. Turnover among female employees at these companies is 82%, higher than those that allow for remote work. Nearly a third of women freelancers said RTO was a direct factor in leaving their full-time jobs. Forty-two percent of women who voluntarily left the workforce in 2025 cited caregiving and childcare costs as the main reason their choice, and these women were more likely than those who stayed employed to work at companies that did not offer flexible schedules, according to a survey from Catalyst, a nonprofit focused on women's progress.

But as many employers don't adapt to the needs of families, they're seeing the benefits in hiring freelance workers. Another survey of about 350 business leaders conducted by Upwork last fall found that 77% said AI was increasing the need for them to hire fractional, freelance workers with specialized skills. "What we historically saw was that business leaders were maybe a little more hesitant to embrace these kinds of non-traditional work models," says Gabby Burlacu, senior manager at the Upwork Research Institute. Now, "business leaders are far more open to working with the most skilled talent that they can, especially the most AI-enabled talent, because they're all trying to figure out: How are we going to unlock the value of this technology?"

It's hard to say how many people, and particularly women, are working in freelance roles. Upwork doesn't track gender of the freelancers on its platform, but tells me that in a recent report, 44% of knowledge freelancer workers were women, compared to 41% of people working similar jobs in full-time roles, among those they surveyed. Freelance marketplace Fiverr tells me there's been growth in areas like voiceover, user-generated content creation, and spokesperson or modeling projects specifically seeking female talent. In 2022, 9.8 million people were self-employed, according to the US Bureau of Economic Analysis. Other analyses of the freelance workforce estimate that as many as 75 million people participate in some capacity.

Working freelance has given women more flexible schedules and eased childcare costs, but that can also mean taking on even more unpaid household and caregiving labor.

Jaime Hollander previously commuted three to four hours a day roundtrip into Manhattan. She freelanced on the side, and split the care of two kids with her husband equally. Her mindset shifted after her father died in 2019. "You have those moments of reckoning where you're like, this can't be all that there is,'" she tells me. So, she cut back on work and shortly after quit her job. She focused on freelance marketing and copyrighting. The challenge with being a full-time freelancer, she tells me, is that the shift threw her into becoming "the default parent," on call for all of her kids' needs throughout the day. "If something has to get done between 7 and 7, I will do it," she tells me. "Sometimes, it's really challenging."

Paid parental leave has become more common, but just 40% of companies in the US offered it as of 2023, according to a survey from Society for Human Resources Management. A short period of leave tied only to the birth of a child doesn't answer for the flexibility working parents need as their kids age — there are sick days, potential disability diagnoses, and more hands-on needs at schools. "It's not just about retaining women in those early years," Neha Ruch, author of "The Power Pause: How to Plan a Career Break After Kids — and Come Back Stronger Than Ever." She says "there is recalibration happening" in the workforce, where more women may take fractional work, part-time roles, or freelance gigs. For companies, retaining women workers requires "thinking about parenting through the longitudinal experience of early parenthood," Ruch says, "going all the way up to college admissions and how and the demands that are made within the system on parents' time, and how we can make those work in the ecosystem of the professional space as well."

Many of the working parents I spoke to for this story chose the freelance or part-time route not upon having a kid, but as they grew up and demands of their families changed. When Erin Bartholomew's son was born, her husband stayed home to care for him. A few years later, she took her turn, wanting to have that hands-on time while her son was still young. She re-entered the workforce after a year into a remote job, logging on at 6 a.m. in Oregon to work in marketing for an East Coast company. But Bartholomew was laid off last year in 2024. Instead of searching for a similar role, she started her own marketing consultancy "It's so night and day," Bartholomew tells me. "It's allowed that balance that my husband and I really wanted."

As some women find flexibility in freelancing, others will be left out. Those who work in offices with 9-to-5 in-person mandates, or in education, retail, and healthcare roles, can't always make their own schedule. Parents who are the sole provider of income and health insurance for families often can't make ends meet working part-time. Others are pushed to stay at home with kids because the costs of childcare outpace their salaries. Leaving a full-time job can also disrupt a career trajectory toward leadership, and mean lost contributions to retirement accounts like 401(k)s. If companies don't adapt their schedules and remote work policies or future-proof roles for AI, many women will be forced to change how they think about their careers and priorities. They might not see going part-time or leaving a job as a choice they want to make, but something they have no choice in.

Amanda Hoover is a senior correspondent at Business Insider covering the tech industry. She writes about the biggest tech companies and trends.

• Mark Cuban said AI agents will reduce workdays by an hour.
• He said smart companies would reward employees using AI with more time daily.
• Other executives, like Bill Gates and Jamie Dimon, have talked about AI helping shrink workweeks.

Mark Cuban said AI agents will slash an hour of work from typical workdays.

In an X post on Sunday, the billionaire investor wrote that "smart, bigger companies" will let their employees create and use AI agents to improve their productivity.

But he said that more importantly, "they will reduce their work day by an hour to start."

He said that the employees will work one less hour per day while earning the same pay, adding that companies should "reward people doing the daily with more time."

AI agents work as virtual assistants that can complete tasks from start to finish autonomously, without needing user prompts.

Cuban's comments came from one of his several posts on AI on Sunday. In an earlier post, he said he was not an AI "doomer" and did not think the rise of AI would lead to mass unemployment.

"Over time the same shit is available to everyone. The early adopters, that iterated and executed the best, were the winners," he wrote.

Cuban's comments on shorter work days fall in line with those from other tech executives.

Zoom CEO Eric Yuan said in 2024 said that AI avatars would be able to handle everyday tasks like attending meetings, helping to shorten workweeks to three or four days. Microsoft founder Bill Gates and JPMorgan CEO Jamie Dimon both said in 2023 that AI will lead society to a three or 3.5-day workweek.

Cuban, a former "Shark Tank" investor, has been AI-forward in his recent posts on X. In an interview that aired in February, he said AI has ushered in an era where "some kid in a basement" with a good idea could transform the industry.

Cuban has also talked about AI agents, saying in December that new graduates should go for small to medium businesses and help them adopt AI agents, a task that big companies don't need them to do.

While AI agents have been the latest productivity buzzword, research has found that they still require plenty of human intervention. A Workday survey in January showed that nearly 40% of AI's value is lost to rework and misalignment, due to workers having to check for errors and hallucinations.

Another survey, published in the Harvard Business Review earlier this month, found that some employees are experiencing "AI brain fry," mental fog from using too many AI tools at once.

• My oldest got her first job, and I quickly realized I needed to teach her about managing money.
• She's learning how to budget, save, and splurge from time to time.
• She now pays for her own drinks at coffee shops and I charge her for rides to and from work.

I was absolutely thrilled when my oldest child got her first retail job. Within a few weeks of starting, she was sometimes working 20 or more hours a week, bringing home a solid paycheck at just 17.

However, I quickly realized how little I'd taught her about money management. Judging by the number of Amazon packages arriving on our porch, addressed to my daughter, I knew we still have a lot of work to do, but I wanted to be careful in the way I guided her.

We tried to talk about money early

When our four kids were young, we used a jar system for their allowances. They would divide their singles and fives among the jars, which included one for savings. Then, they would place their spending money in their wallets. This system was simple and it worked for a time. When they received money for their birthdays or Christmas, we would deposit those funds into their savings accounts to instill the idea of saving for future expenses or for a rainy day.

I guess time got away from me. In the blink of an eye, my sweet elementary school girl who spent her days creating art and dancing is now approaching high school graduation. With her sudden and bountiful-for-her-age income, it was time for a crash course in budgeting.

We had to decide how we would handle her new income

My husband and I suddenly had so many decisions to make. What should our daughter's financial responsibilities be at this age? Which essentials and wants should we continue to pay for? How much should she place in her savings account versus how much of her check should she be able to freely spend?

I decided that I wanted my daughter to learn through trial and error, with support.

There were times I cringed when I saw another Amazon order arrive on our doorstep, the package addressed to my daughter, or I knew she'd decided to get Starbucks for herself and treat her friend who wasn't working. But, isn't it ok to enjoy the fruits of her labor? I felt as if I were in one of those old school cartoons, an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other. As a parent, I wasn't sure what I was supposed to be teaching her.

She's learning that money flow is dynamic

She's been at her job for almost six months now. Her hours wane and increase based on the store's busy and slow seasons. She's had large paychecks, as well as paychecks for only a few hours of work. Learning to adjust with every pay cycle has been challenging. As a parent, I know my job isn't to fix my child's feelings that naturally come with every challenge. Rather, my job is to hold space for frustration and encourage her to process and problem-solve.

What I've found is that there is no end-all, be-all guidebook to teaching our kids about money. Every family dynamic and financial situation is different and ever-changing. I personally value having healthy food at home over eating out, I like buying quality clothing at a deep discount, and I am not one to do much extra for myself, like get my nails done. My values, however, don't have to be my child's — not now or even in the future.

Instead, I want her to have basic financial competency and confidence. I also want her to understand the value of a dollar, which is why she now has to pay some of her own expenses, such as any eating out at coffee shop, as well as her favorite press-on nails, or (yet another) stainless steel water bottle that she just has to have. We also charge her $10 (much less than an Uber would cost) for a roundtrip ride to and from work, preparing her for putting gas in her own vehicle in the near future.

She has opted to save around 75% of each paycheck, no matter how many hours she worked that week. That was her choice, and her father and I are pleased with it. She is slowly learning to spend wisely, to pause and ask herself, "Do I really want this beyond just this moment?" She is truly living and learning — and so are we.

• Michael Greene reflects on his journey running Matthews Cafeteria in Tucker, Georgia.
• Despite not enjoying the work as a kid, Greene now finds joy in operating the family cafeteria.
• Greene's focus is on his kids' freedom, not pressuring them into the family business.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Michael Greene, 53, third-generation owner and operator of the 70-year-old Matthews Cafeteria in Tucker, Georgia. It has been edited for length and clarity.

My family has run Matthews Cafeteria for three generations. A fourth would be rare and special, but I don't expect it.

I have four kids, ages 12, 10, 8, and 4. They're all boys, and people often assume that at least one of them will take over one day, but I'm not going to push them into this business if they don't want it.

I was one of four, and my parents didn't pressure my siblings or me to run the family business. They gave us the chance to be anything we wanted. So when I think about my sons, I want them to have that same freedom.

I don't expect they'll want this type of work. I was the only one in my generation who wanted anything to do with the business, and it's a tough job. It's also extremely rewarding.

I didn't enjoy the cafeteria when I was growing up

At age 12, my parents required me to start working in the cafeteria during the summer. I started out washing dishes. I only spent about three hours a day at the job, but it felt like 12.

Meanwhile, my friends, who didn't have jobs, were at the pool. So, the cafeteria was by no means my favorite place to be as a kid because it felt like I was missing out.

That said, I plan for each of my sons to work the same job I did as a kid. My eldest will start this summer.

I don't expect him to like it, but it's important to see what his Dad does, to see where the money comes from, and what it takes to make a dollar.

I eventually found my way back to the family business

I can't remember exactly when I decided to go into the family business. Looking back, I think it was my destiny to end up here because cooking is my passion.

As a kid, I would watch chefs like Nathalie Dupree and Julia Childs on TV and try to recreate what they made. When I went to college, I majored in communications, but never found it rewarding.

Nothing else turned me on the way cooking did. Cooking was my only passion back then, and I'm lucky to say it still is today. Sometimes, when you have to make a living out of what you love, it takes the fun out of it. I'm grateful that the bottom line hasn't spoiled my joy.

I run the production side of things at Matthews, watching the food transform from raw products into what you see on your plate. That'll never get old.

The work is harder than it looks, though. You're on your feet all day — lifting, moving, cooking, solving problems. It's not a desk job.

Up until recently, I was here at 5 a.m. to open and stayed until about 3:30 in the afternoon. Now we open at 6 a.m., and I don't work quite as much as I used to because life is busy with four kids. I also have an incredible staff who, along with my wife, are really what keep this place running smoothly.

During COVID, my wife took on the business side — handling payroll, taxes, catering, everything — after our managers quit.

So, we really don't get to turn off ever — there's always something that needs to be done. That's why I don't take it lightly when people assume my kids will step into this business.

This business has given me a good life

If one of my boys wants to do this and has a passion for it, then I'll support that. But I don't want them to have it as a crutch. Instead, I want them to study hard, get an education, and forge their own path.

This business has given me a good life. It's supported my family and about 30 employees. It's where I met my wife. We got engaged at the same table where I first laid eyes on her. It means a lot to me now in a way it didn't when I was younger.

If one or more of my kids choose the same path, it will be because they want it — the same way I did.

• I wanted to be a writer, but my parents told me I should be a professor or lawyer.
• I resented them for not supporting me, but now my kid is in college studying film.
• I'm worried about my kid's future, especially in the world of AI.

I used to hold a quiet grudge against my parents for the way they handled my creative dreams.

It wasn't the kind of loud, dramatic grudge that shows up at therapy and needs a name. It was more like a low hum in the background of my ambitions. It was a recurring thought that quietly whispered: They didn't believe in me.

They knew of my love of writing. They saw the journals I filled, the essays that came back marked with glowing commentary from my teachers, and the stories that I'd start and never quite finish. Their response was essentially: that's cute, but what's your real plan?

"Go get a master's in early childhood education," they advised. "So you can teach. Or better yet, law school so you can be well-paid and respectable."

My creative writing talent wasn't something they could see me turning into a career, so they looked away from it. I resented that for a long time — until I became a parent.

When my kid went to college, my feelings got complicated

Decades later, I sent my firstborn off to an expensive liberal arts college to major in film studies, and that grudge got a bit more complicated.

I have spent nearly two decades pouring intentionally into my child's development. There were the Mandarin immersion programs, piano lessons, and summer workbooks, a grade level ahead, all carefully cultivating their unique sense of self. I wanted them to know that their interests mattered. I wanted them to feel they were allowed and encouraged to follow what lit them up. I said it explicitly, and I meant every word.

But now I'm sitting with the liberal arts tuition bills next to the economic reports of millions of jobs disappearing, and the daily AI takeover alerts.

I finally understand what my parents were thinking when I went off to college back in 1999.

My parents had done the math

They weren't dream killers, but time travelers. They were standing in my present, looking ahead to my future, and doing the math that I was too young and hopeful to do myself. Now here I am doing the same math except the numbers are scarier, and the variables have multiplied in ways none of us saw coming.

It's not just the job market I'm watching. It's the wholesale dismantling of creative industries by artificial intelligence. I think about my child studying film while screenwriting rooms go dark, entry-level editing jobs evaporate, and graphic designers, photographers, and copywriters quietly lose relevance to tools that work for free and never sleep.

The very field my child is pouring their passion into is being restructured in real time, faster than any syllabus can keep up with. I find myself wondering: Are the professors teaching the industry that exists, or the one that existed? Are film classes in 2026 preparing my kid for the future or elegantly preserving the past?

My father graduated from college before his profession was invented

I think about my father, who got his electrical engineering degree in 1971. The computer systems he would eventually spend his career managing did not exist yet when he was sitting in those lectures. He was studying for a future he couldn't fully see.

I studied English and History, majors that seemed, on paper, equally impractical, right up until social media rewrote the rules, and handed a girl with the gift for language a whole new kind of career. Neither of us could have studied our way directly into what we became.

I don't have a clean answer. What I'm learning in real time is that good parenting in an era of radical uncertainty might just be the refusal to let your fears become hand-me-downs you pass on to your child. That lesson is costing me bandwidth I don't have. It is one more weight on the already heavy bar of midlife, where caregiving, career, and reinvention all compete for the same depleted reserves.

And so I meditate, do my breathwork, enjoy my sound baths, and pray. I pray my child will forge something I can't picture yet, the way my father built systems that didn't exist in his textbooks, and the way I built a business on platforms that launched after my graduation.

I pray the instinct to bet on yourself and answer the deep inner call that tugs at your heart turns out to be the one thing no algorithm can replicate.

• Kanav Bhatnagar's job title, forward deployed engineer, has been described as the "hottest role in AI."
• He said his job is to be a customer-facing engineer who tailors products for clients.
• Context-switching and communication are important skills for FDEs, he said.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Kanav Bhatnagar, 24, a forward-deployed engineer at Rippling, an HR tech company, who lives and works in New York City. The following has been edited for length and clarity.

I got into software development because I wanted to build cool stuff.

Amazon hired me as a software engineer out of college, and it was a big learning opportunity, teaching me the fundamentals of engineering.

But it was a behemoth of a company, and I eventually wanted to work in a smaller environment where I could take more personal ownership over product decisions and learn more on the job.

After 2 ½ years at Amazon, I interviewed at a sales startup called Actively AI, where I landed a role in forward-deployed engineering.

The "FDE" role was popularized by Palantir, and it has been described as the "hottest role in AI." I liked that it combined software engineering with understanding business.

I spent roughly six months at Actively AI before I joined the AI-forward HR tech company Rippling as a senior FDE, in October 2025.

I've now been an FDE for roughly a year. Put simply, I'm a customer-facing engineer who tailors our product to each client. They describe their challenges and needs, and I build solutions and customizations.

Here's what my day-to-day is like, and the skills you need to break into this role.

My primary job is listening to customers. The results are very rewarding.

Software engineers can feel far removed from customers, because they often can't see their impact. In this job, I'm closer to the front lines.

A core software engineer can build something that serves the majority of use cases, but AI tools usually need more customization to work properly than regular software features. That's when an FDE steps in.

For example, a restaurant chain might have a labor-intensive process for tracking their payroll data that involves spreadsheets and manual data entry, which I'd help them to eliminate within Rippling's platform by using custom code and AI.

My primary job is listening to customers and understanding their problems, which was a learning curve for me, coming from a software engineering background. On a day-to-day basis, I'm in a lot of customer meetings, including visiting businesses who use our product to talk with employees about their experience with it. I probably spend an equal amount of time coding solutions and interacting with our core product teams.

Context-switching is an important skill to master in this job, where you could go from talking to a customer to debugging something to jumping onto another customer call shortly after.

I don't rely on an engineer to code something for me. I make a lot of decisions about the shape of the product and how to execute on it, which I really enjoy. It's very rewarding when a customer looks at what I've built after multiple iterations and says, "This is exactly what I wanted."

Technical and communication skills are equally important as an FDE

I think it would be pretty hard, although not impossible, to become an FDE without a technical background. With the dawn of vibe coding, it might become easier, though.

In my experience, FDE interviews feature technical rounds that test your coding skills, like in traditional software engineering interviews. You also have to show you can talk with any customer, including non-technical people, by asking the right questions to understand a customer's problem, and talk through how you'd design the solution.

To prepare for interviews, I have used consulting industry interview questions, which require you to explain how you'd meet client requests. I think both fields overlap, requiring rapid diagnosis, clarifying questions, and a clear plan of action.

There's probably more breadth than depth of technical knowledge required. In today's age of rapidly evolving technology, I try to spend time outside of work understanding what's new in the AI world and what new AI tools I can be using in my workflow by talking to colleagues and researching online.

I think my job is preparing me to be a founder one day

I'm interested in founding my own company one day, and I've previously heard someone describing the FDE role as a founder bootcamp. It provides a good foundational layer for entrepreneurship, helping you understand how a business functions from the sales process to how to build things.

The FDE role is evolving and no one really knows what direction it's heading in. Even if AI turns out to be unprofitable, I think FDEs will still have a place because of the demand for customer software. Products are becoming easier to build, and people in this role will be needed to handle large contracts with clients.

Palantir is an example of a company that's had FDEs since the 2010s, even before AI was mainstream.

• Companies are spending big on AI, but research shows most haven't seen measurable ROI.
• To offset those costs, employers can do layoffs — or trim line items like bonuses and stock awards.
• Workers can still make a case for a pay bump by emphasizing their value and AI chops.

AI may be putting more than just jobs on the line.

Companies are investing heavily in the technology and top-tier AI talent, and layoffs aren't the only option for offsetting those costs. At least one survey of US business leaders suggests that some are planning to cut workers' compensation.

"They have to pay for AI somehow," said Rocki-Lee DeWitt, a management professor at the University of Vermont's Grossman School of Business. "It ain't cheap."

Research firm IDC says companies with more than 1,000 employees are expected to spend an average of $13.7 million on AI hardware, cloud infrastructure, software, and services this year, a 78% increase from 2025, based on a global analysis.

Nvidia CEO Jensen Huang said on a recent episode of the "All-In Podcast" that he would be "deeply alarmed" if one of the chip giant's top engineers spent too little on AI tokens. In another episode of the same program, venture capitalist Chamath Palihapitiya expressed concern about ballooning AI bills at his startup.

Yet despite all that outlay, 95% of organizations reported no measurable ROI from AI in the first half of 2025, according to an MIT study based on reviews of publicly disclosed AI initiatives and executive interviews.

Until companies see tangible gains from their AI investments, they may need to rein in other expenses, especially as tariffs, high inflation, and other factors also strain budgets.

Cost-cutting options

Several companies have announced layoffs tied to AI in recent months — including Block and Atlassian — and others may be tempted to follow suit, Business Insider previously reported. In November, HP said in an earnings report that it planned to cut between 4,000 and 6,000 jobs by the end of 2028, saving the company roughly $1 billion.

Cuts to employee compensation may be next.

More than half of 866 executives and senior managers polled earlier this month by ResumeBuilder.com, 58%, said they plan to reduce employee compensation by the end of this year to help fund their AI investments. Bonuses and stock awards will be affected the most, followed by raises, benefits, and base salaries, the findings show.

Though such cuts could hurt morale, "employees don't have any leverage" due to the tight job market, said Jessica Kriegel, chief strategy officer at workplace consulting firm Culture Partners in Sacramento, California. "They will push back less, and they will accept smaller raises to avoid risk that feels real."

ResumeBuilder didn't cite the size of the companies where the respondents work, though small businesses are the most likely to take a hammer to employee pay or perks in lieu of making job cuts, said Kriegel.

"You can't just lay off 10% of your organization when you have, say 20 people, and everyone has got their hands in a million different pots," she said.

Another option for companies grappling with AI and other costs can be to hold compensation steady. The Conference Board, a nonprofit provider of data and insights for business leaders, expects average salary increases to stay at 3.4% this year, the same as in 2025.

Getting a raise anyway

Workers can still make a case for a pay bump amid the AI boom, said Kris Erickson, cofounder of consulting firm Workforce Science Associates in Lincoln, Nebraska.

"When budgets are tight, and the economy is uncertain, you have to get into sales mode" to successfully secure a raise, she said. "You have to make yourself invaluable."

Given how much money companies are spending on AI in search of productivity gains, highlight any you've realized from using it. Merely saying you know how to use AI is not enough, said David Gaspin, an HR professional and executive coach in New York.

"Asking for a raise because you're proficient in AI is not the strategy," he said. "That proficiency is table stakes at this point."

It's also important to show why AI can't fill your shoes.

"The key differentiator today is becoming: What can you do that can't be replaced with technology? Where is your experience, your judgment, your unique point of view adding tangible, quantifiable value to the business?" said Gaspin. "Because that's where companies are going to see risk in you leaving."

• I returned from maternity leave; my performance review went from "exceptional" to "successful."
• That same year, I struggled to be both a good mom and a good employee.
• It took time for my body to heal after giving birth, and I wish I had better support at work.

I opened up my annual performance review and gasped. For the first time, I was seeing the words "Successful Contributor" instead of the "Exceptional Contributor" I'd earned the previous two years.

So what changed? I became a mom.

It wasn't just about the words. It was also that future promotions were tied to them, and my annual review was now stored away in an HR file as a reference point for any raise opportunities.

As our family's primary earner, my salary covered our health insurance, mortgage, and new life as a family of three. I couldn't afford to let this slide.

It was a difficult year for me

The year I went from "exceptional" to "successful" was also the year I hemorrhaged two liters of blood during delivery. I spent my first hours of motherhood watching a nurse stick a tube down my baby's throat because he needed help breathing. I visited him in a wheelchair in the NICU in between iron infusions and pumping sessions since I couldn't breastfeed him with his tubes.

Because of my blood loss, I returned home anemic. But when night came, rather than sleeping, I'd panic that my baby would stop breathing. When I wasn't panicking, I was nursing.

Despite it all, I returned to work part-time at 10 weeks. When my baby was 4 months old, I went back to full-time work. I was timing calls around pumping sessions. Some days, I'd have so many calls in a row that by the time I made it to the pump, I was breathing through the discomfort, as my breasts exploded with milk, leaking through my shirt.

I was working 8 hours a day on 4 hours of sleep, pretending it wasn't destroying me. I was doing the best I could; I just didn't do it exceptionally.

I kept pushing forward without changing anything

After having a baby, I felt caught between being a great mom and a great employee. I was overwhelmed, trying to be everything for everyone, and I started questioning if I was doing anything well.

But I dove back in — analyzing, optimizing, producing — expending all of my energy in my 9-to-5 to prove myself. I smiled outwardly, as though nothing had changed, but everything had changed.

Time went by, and I settled into my new normal. I constantly felt like I was failing, desperately trying to claw my way back to that exceptional status. I didn't know how to verbalize my struggles.

One day, during a work call with a partner from Canada, I mentioned that I had a 9-month-old baby. "Wait, what are you doing working?" she asked, shocked. Then she remembered, "Oh, that's right. You're in the United States."

My organization gave me 12 weeks of paid parental leave, very generous compared to most in the US. It felt like I was supposed to be grateful for the time I was given off with my baby. But the truth was, I didn't feel fully physically recovered until seven months postpartum. Even then, I was still figuring out my postpartum body and how to care for it.

I was working hard for a system that wasn't working for me

A 2024 survey conducted by Parentaly found that only 20% of expecting mothers in the US receive career support from their manager throughout the parental leave experience.

Even with my "generous" leave time, there wasn't a structured transition plan in place for me before I left and when I returned. When writing annual goals for a new mom, don't assume a 12-month work schedule if you're only going to be there for nine.

The things my annual report didn't take into account: I grew and fed a human with my body, I made my way out of my postpartum anxiety and sleep-deprived fog, all while making work calls on time, meeting deadlines, managing another employee, and finding my new rhythm as a working mom.

I'd call that pretty exceptional.

• Tejal Rives hoped adopting AI at work would help keep her safe from tech layoffs.
• However, she lost her job at Amazon during layoffs in October 2025.
• Rives was disheartened but was glad the experience taught her about AI.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Tejal Rives, 35, who lives in Arizona. The following has been edited for length and clarity.

In October 2025, I read a news article that Amazon was planning to cut jobs. I'd survived other layoffs, but this time my gut told me I'd be affected. Sure enough, not long after, I received an email that my position as a product marketer was being eliminated.

I was one of 14,000 people impacted, and even though I understood the decision wasn't personal, it was very disheartening. I thought up-skilling in AI would make me safer from layoffs, but even though it didn't, I still think professionals should focus on learning this one important AI skill: prompt engineering.

I thought working on AI could safeguard my job

At the time of the October layoffs, there was debate around whether AI was the reason.

The company was encouraging us to use AI at the time, but I don't think it took my job. I wrote descriptions for internal products at Amazon, and when I used AI to help, I'd need to ask it to rewrite its output without fluff words. It didn't sound like how people talk. Despite my ethical qualms, I used AI, but, in my opinion, it was nowhere close to replacing my role.

Before I was laid off, I helped build an internal site for Amazon using AI. I hadn't really coded before, but with a colleague's help, I learned how to vibe code with a lot of trial and error.

I thought using AI for this project and showcasing different skills would make me more valuable to the company, but in the end, it didn't keep me from being laid off.

Initially, I felt like I'd wasted time by learning something I likely wouldn't use again, but overall, I don't think my efforts were wasted. The most important thing the experience taught me was prompt engineering, the practice of asking AI the right questions. I want to be minimal with my use of AI for ethical reasons, including around the water resources needed to power data centers. Efficient prompt engineering helps me ask AI my question once, without needing to clarify three or more times.

I'd highly recommend that other professionals learn prompt engineering to up-skill themselves in the age of AI.

The workforce has shifted, and you're likely going to need to learn AI and use it at your job, regardless of your moral qualms. We need to up-skill to survive.

I have my own business, and use AI very rarely

My husband and I already agreed that if I were laid off, I'd focus on being the primary parent to our child as well as on my career coaching business, called Do My Resume LLC, which I was running on the side of my Amazon job. Before being laid off, I planned to eventually quit my job and focus on it full-time.

I didn't realize how burnt out I was after four years at Amazon, though, and it took me a while to pivot into working on my business. For roughly three weeks, I didn't touch my computer. I took up sewing and house-cleaning projects because I needed separation from my screen.

Now, my life is slower than it was at Amazon. I spend roughly four hours a day, six days a week, on the business, and spend the rest of my time taking care of the house and my family.

The business provides career coaching and résumé-writing services, but we don't use AI to write résumés, because it's humans who read them. Recently, I used AI to give me advice about starting a YouTube series for my business, so I will use this technology to help me flesh out ideas, but very rarely. I haven't vibe-coded since the project at Amazon.

My husband is the breadwinner, and we can survive on his income, but the business is bringing in some fun money for me.

I think people should prepare for layoffs in the age of AI

Being laid off helped me remember that, at the end of the day, your job and company shouldn't be your entire life. It shouldn't come before your well-being.

I wish I hadn't sacrificed time with my child to get projects done towards the end of my time at Amazon. I'm glad I'm no longer sacrificing that time.

I think there will be more layoffs that will be attributed to AI's efficiency, and professionals should always be prepared. Reskilling in the age of AI won't necessarily stop a company from laying you off, but it might help you land a role faster.

Amazon did not provide a statement in response to a request for comment from Business Insider.

Do you have a story to share about being laid off in 2026? Contact this reporter at ccheong@businessinsider.com

• A Cognizant study suggests 93% of jobs across the workforce are impacted by AI in some way.
• While AI could replace some jobs entirely, it will likely change the work that makes up many other roles.
• What tasks would you like to pass off to AI? What tasks do you enjoy? Take our survey below.

AI is coming for your job — or at least part of it.

A January study from IT services company Cognizant, which analyzed 18,000 workplace tasks, found that 93% of jobs are affected by AI to some degree. In the US, that could result in roughly $4.5 trillion of human labor shifting to AI — and it's happening at a faster rate than expected.

Cognizant projected in 2023 that 90% of jobs would be impacted by 2032. Now, a slightly elevated level of disruption is arriving about six years ahead of schedule. The pace of exposure has surged, too. Instead of rising 2% annually, it's now accelerating at closer to 9%, the report found, with AI's potential impact across occupations coming in 30% higher than earlier estimates.

While there are plenty of concerning predictions about AI replacing jobs entirely, there's also the possibility that the technology will allow many workers to spend more time on certain tasks and offload others to AI.

Given the assumption that AI is going to take at least some part of your job — if it hasn't already — we want to know what you would be happy to pass off, and what tasks you want to keep.

Take our survey below:

• Valerie Lockhart has struggled to find work since being laid off by Morgan Stanley in March 2025.
• Despite applying to more than 500 jobs and landing some interviews, she's still waiting for an offer.
• She said the search has taken a financial toll on her family, and she had to start a GoFundMe campaign.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Valerie Lockhart, a job seeker in her 40s based in Georgia. She was previously a vice president at Morgan Stanley until she was laid off last year. The following has been edited for length and clarity.

One day last March, I was working from the office when I was asked to have a meeting with my manager's boss.

It didn't feel out of the ordinary at first because I'd met with them before, and our last meeting had been canceled, so I assumed we were just making it up. But when I walked into the conference room and saw an HR representative sitting there, I realized something was wrong.

I learned I was being laid off, and later found out many others were, too — including several people I knew personally.

This set me on an ongoing search for a stable, full-time role — one that has been deeply discouraging and has significantly strained my finances.

I took some time to process the layoff before searching for jobs

The layoff came as a complete surprise, and I don't know exactly why I was selected. However, I think being based in Georgia may have worked against me. My manager at Morgan Stanley was in New York, along with many of my colleagues and the company's leadership, so there weren't many people who saw my contributions in person. I think the distance may have also created some communication challenges.

While I was laid off in March, I appreciated that I was kept on the payroll through May, which meant I still had healthcare coverage. I also received one month of severance. It wasn't much since it was based on my tenure with the company, and I had only started there in late 2023.

The extra months gave me a little time to process everything instead of immediately diving into a job search. By mid-April, though, I was actively looking for work — and I've been searching ever since.

I applied to over 500 jobs, but still struggled to land one

Before I started submitting applications, I updated my LinkedIn and analyzed my résumé to make sure the ATS systems that screen résumés these days would actually read it.

Then I started applying to roles online and reaching out to my network about opportunities, with a focus on governance, risk, and compliance roles at larger companies.

I consider myself fairly organized, so I created a spreadsheet to track every job I've applied to. By November, I had applied to more than 550 jobs. The hundreds of roles I applied for weren't random applications. They were positions I carefully selected.

Out of those, I heard back — beyond a basic "no thank you" email — from about 25 of them.

I made it to the final round multiple times, but none of those interviews led to an offer. At the last stage, something always seems to flip, and it doesn't work out.

My search has taken a financial toll

My job search has had a significant impact on my finances, as I'm the primary earner for my family — my spouse, my son, and me. We've relied on general savings, retirement accounts, and unemployment benefits. It's affected every aspect of our financial life.

Paying our mortgage has been the biggest challenge. We've tried to cut back wherever we can, including canceling some entertainment services. Every bit of savings helps, but it doesn't change the reality that housing is expensive.

Unexpected expenses have only made things harder. One day last September, we came home to find the right side of our garage — where we stored some valuable items — flooded. There were thousands of dollars' worth of damaged property.

We later learned that a pipe leak under the house was to blame. While our home insurance would help cover some of the damage, we were responsible for thousands of dollars in plumbing repairs. Paying that bill would've meant using money we needed to stay afloat and put food on the table.

So we delayed the repair, knowing that until it was fixed, we wouldn't have hot water. It felt like our own "Little House on the Prairie" moment.

To try to raise money for the repair, we started a GoFundMe campaign that, after some hesitation, I shared on LinkedIn. We raised a few hundred dollars, but it wasn't enough to cover the full cost.

Some companies seem to be looking for unicorn candidates

Eventually, I had a bit of luck. In January 2026 — about seven months after I began looking for work — I started a temporary, full-time contract role. I was finally able to save enough money to repair the hot water.

Because the position is temporary, I haven't stopped looking for work.

While my connections have helped me land some interviews, I've had to broaden my search beyond the companies where I have strong ties. At times, it feels like I'm either underqualified or overqualified for the roles I apply to. Some companies seem to be looking for unicorn candidates and would rather leave positions empty than hire someone.

I'm still applying and hoping something works out. At this point, I just need one opportunity.

Do you have a story to share about struggling to find work? Fill out this form, or contact this reporter via email at jzinkula@businessinsider.com, or via Signal at jzinkula.29.

• Career growth depends on building a network rather than relying solely on your manager's support.
• Career coach Andrea Wasserman encourages forming cross-functional relationships to enhance visibility.
• Office "influencers" shape outcomes without formal authority, making them key allies for career progress.

Many corporate professionals believe their career trajectory hinges on one person: their boss. They think: If my manager advocates for me, I'll get promoted. If not, I'm stuck.

That's a misconception because promotions rarely come from a single champion — they come from a web of relationships. These include people who shape the perception of others, pressure-test your thinking, influence decision-makers, and speak about you when you're not in the room.

If you want your career trajectory to soar this year, you should be refining your relationship strategy, starting with these five categories of people.

1. The cross-functional partner who depends on you

High performers often invest in building deep credibility within their own team and spend significant time thinking about how to impress senior leaders, but neglect peers in adjacent functional areas. This limits visibility.

I once worked with a retail marketing director who consistently exceeded her revenue targets. She assumed that would be enough for promotion, but when senior executives evaluated her readiness for a broader role, they asked, "How does she lead cross-functionally?" Her merchandising partner on another team described her as territorial and protective. This stalled her progression.

She rebuilt the relationship by scheduling monthly alignment meetings with merchandising and supply chain, asking about their margin pressures, and proactively adjusting campaign timing to reduce markdown risk. Within two quarters, her boss told her those partners started advocating for her "one company" mindset.

Cross-functional relationships create leverage because they expand who experiences your leadership. Your reputation can't grow within your silo.

2. The culture carrier

Every organization has culture carriers who are respected insiders without an HR title or the formal authority to lead culture, who set an example of acceptable norms and embody how decisions actually get made. They may not have the biggest titles, but they have credibility and context.

When a newly promoted vice president entered a financial services firm, I saw him struggle in executive meetings. His ideas were strong, but they didn't land. He later realized he was presenting a detailed analysis in a culture that valued decisive framing.

He built a relationship with a longtime chief of staff who was widely respected but rarely in the spotlight. She helped him understand the company's "operating language," which is how leaders structure arguments, how disagreement is expressed, and what signals executive readiness.

Within months, his presence shifted. He wasn't more competent than before, but he was better prepared to show up appropriately. It's critical to understand the unwritten rules so you can move inside them with greater ease.

3. The influencer without formal authority

There's often someone who shapes outcomes without owning the final vote. It may be a product manager, a program lead who briefs the executive team, or a person who controls the data that frames strategic decisions. These influencers control how far your work goes and what people think of it.

A senior operations leader once told me she was invisible in the prep work for big meetings, even though she felt she had valuable contributions to make. Instead of chasing her boss and pleading for airtime, she focused on the strategy lead, who oversaw the synthesis of updates and recommendations from various functional areas. She began sending structured summaries — three risks, three opportunities, and one recommendation — to that person ahead of key meetings. Within weeks, her language began appearing verbatim in board decks.

Rather than demanding visibility, she became indispensable to someone who already had a seat at the table. While it's tempting to chase senior leaders, don't overlook the people who shape what those leaders see.

4. The truth-teller

Feedback can be hard to get. Your boss may soften it, peers may avoid it, and direct reports may filter it, but without it, your growth will stall. You need one person who will tell you the hard truths before they cost you credibility.

A high-potential director once asked a peer she trusted, "What's one thing I do that might be hurting how I'm perceived?" The answer she got made her uncomfortable: "You over-explain when you're presenting, and it makes you sound defensive." In executive settings, brevity signals confidence, but her error never came up in a performance review.

She began practicing tighter framing. Within months, leaders described her as more decisive and executive. The issue wasn't competence — she was simply unaware of a change she needed to make.

5. The sponsor — but built through exposure, not "pick your brain" requests

Senior sponsorship doesn't start with a formal ask for mentorship or coffee dates. It happens through consistent exposure to your work and your thinking behind it.

One client assumed his boss's boss would naturally champion him, having heard through the grapevine about his analytical rigor. He delivered strong results but only showed the output, not the problem-solving process. I coached him to shift his approach and, instead of presenting only one conclusion, bring structured options: "Here are three paths, here's the tradeoff, and here's my recommendation."

The goal is to have someone who references your strategic ability in executive meetings, so you become known as "already operating at the next level."

Next steps

If you're new to your organization, introverted, or stretched thin, prioritizing several relationships may feel overwhelming. It doesn't have to be.

Start with two relationships this quarter. Replace one transactional update with a strategic conversation. Ask one person for candid feedback. Offer one cross-functional assist that wasn't required. In a hybrid work environment, it's ideal to schedule these conversations for in-person days, but it's better to make them happen remotely than not at all.

If you focus only on impressing your boss, you narrow your sphere of influence. By building these five relationships, you expand your reach. This road map will ensure that enough of the right people experience your capabilities.

• Nancy Hagans is an intensive care unit nurse in NYC and union president.
• She told Business Insider about how health tech has changed during her 39-year career.
• Each shift is intense, but Hagans said nursing is the most rewarding job she's ever done.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Nancy Hagans, a nurse in the intensive care unit at New York City's Maimonides Medical Center and president of the New York State Nurses Association. The union ended a 41-day strike in February, securing raises and layoff protections for staff. This conversation has been edited for length and clarity.

I wake up 5:30 a.m. each morning, say my daily prayer, have a cup of coffee, and arrive at work at least half an hour early.

I've been a registered nurse for the past 39 years, and most of my work is in the surgical intensive care unit. I start my shift by greeting the night nurses and checking on my patients, but there's rarely a routine day at the ICU — it could be quiet one minute and the next minute, everything is happening. My hospital is a trauma center, so I could walk into an emergency before I even put my coat down.

I decided to become a nurse because I'm from Haiti, and my Haitian patients were discriminated against. Going to the hospital was very hard, and I wanted to be in a situation where I could make a difference for immigrant communities.

The profession is extremely rewarding. The nurse is the first person patients see when they walk in, and the last person they see when they leave. In stressful situations, the patient depends on their nurse. I may have to walk away, wipe my eyes, and take a deep breath, but then I go back to their room and think: What is it that I could do to make this person better? How can I alleviate their anxiety?

If you're nervous, odds are the patient is nervous, and the family is nervous. I have to be the advocate for my patients. It's my job to make sure they are receiving the proper medications and are seen quickly by the doctors. Every patient is a VIP, and I treat them with the highest quality of care — regardless of their religion, background, and immigration status.

Technology has changed throughout my career, and I welcome the help. When I first became a nurse, I had to do everything myself. I calculated medication doses and hand-wrote patient reports. Computers are much faster at organizing these treatment notes, doing math, and protecting sensitive information. It's not a replacement for the human touch, but it helps us document our care more effectively and spend more time with patients.

When it comes to care, we are not going to cut corners. We're not going to stop fighting for our patients, our colleagues, our pay, and safe staffing ratios at our workplaces — because more nurses means better care. I need people to know that nurses are the front line, they're the backbone of every hospital. The medical field can't operate without us. We keep our patients alive.

I would encourage students to think about nursing as a profession. About a year-and-a-half ago, I ran into a former patient in a supermarket. Standing in the aisle, this former patient told me, "You don't remember me, but I could never forget you."

It's the most rewarding job I've ever done.

• Packsize founder Hanko Kiessner became a proponent of electric vehicles after developing asthma.
• He installed chargers in his company's parking lot several years ago to help reduce air pollution.
• Kiessner says they're a low-cost perk that can help attract and retain talent, especially when gas prices soar.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Hanko Kiessner, founder and vice chairman of Packsize, a Salt Lake City-based packaging company. This story has been edited for length and clarity.

We just had a spike in gas prices, and everyone is complaining. I see an affordable solution for employers — one that could also grow worker loyalty: adding EV charging stations to their parking lots.

This is something I discovered after moving in 2002 from Germany, where I grew up, to Salt Lake City and starting Packsize. I didn't know about the air pollution problem here, and after a few years. I developed asthma.

I'd never had this problem before. I'm very active. I run marathons. So I did research to find out what was causing my asthma and concluded that air pollution was to blame. I also learned that air pollution largely comes from vehicles and can cause inflammation in the lungs, which can lead to cancer.

Around this time, electric cars were becoming popular. I learned so much about this disruptive technology that I started a nonprofit called Leaders for Clean Air with several other local entrepreneurs. Our mission is to raise money to buy EV charging stations and have them installed in as many places as possible. We see this as a business matter. We need to attract talent from other markets to grow, and air pollution hinders that.

I also wanted to motivate more people than just me to drive an electric car, so I asked my employees: What prevents you from buying one? And the answer was that charging stations are not ubiquitous. One of the biggest fears for people with EVs is driving to work and not finding a plug. That is scary because now you might not be able to make it home.

We initially set up just three charging stations at our Utah headquarters, where we have about 100 employees. Then all of a sudden, people got EVs, so we added more. Today, we have 53 stations and are close to a 30% EV adoption rate among staff, which means there are some extra plugs for visitors and employees at neighboring businesses. We learned that the infrastructure has to come first. Most employees switched after the charging stations were installed.

These stations are probably one of the cheapest benefits an employer can offer their staff. The cost of electricity at a corporate rate is low — for us, it's about $3 a day per charging station. In today's post-COVID world, it's also a way to get people back to the office.

Here's the really cool thing: I'm now attracting employees who drive EVs, and they're very desirable. They typically care about the environment and understand that EV driving is cheaper than gasoline driving. They also tend to be tech-savvy.

Now that gas prices are so high, more people may consider buying EVs. Oil supply chains are fragile, and we have an abundance of cheap electricity. For employers, helping workers make that switch can be as simple as putting charging stations in their parking lots.

• Tom Blake, 29, turned his college side-hustle experiments into a full-time content business.
• He now makes a six-figure living by testing and reviewing side hustles on YouTube and Substack.
• Paid market research is one of Blake's top side hustle recommendations, offering low-stress income.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Tom Blake, a 29-year-old YouTuber and blogger, about his experiments with side hustles. It's been edited for length and clarity.

I started experimenting with side hustles in 2014 while I was in college for a simple reason: I needed to pay the bills. Since then, I've tried over 100 of them — everything from AI website generation to crypto reward programs to paid shopping.

I read a lot about side hustles on Reddit, and many just didn't work as advertised. In 2018, this frustration led me to start a blog documenting my side hustle tests.

I studied psychology, minored in marketing, and interned at a digital marketing agency, which became my first job after graduating. I kept side hustling because the job had a pretty low starting salary, and I wanted to build wealth faster.

I then realized I could make more money on my own outside my job if I worked hard.

My content business is now my full-time job

Over time, the blog grew steadily, and my content business — including my main YouTube channel, a smaller YouTube channel, some blogs, and an email newsletter — became my full-time job.

From ad revenue and affiliate links, it made about $1,700 in its first year, then about $7,000 the next, and $20,000 the year after. Over its lifetime, it generated more than $1 million in revenue before I sold it at the end of 2023.

Since then, I've become a digital nomad earning six figures by testing side hustles and online gigs on YouTube and my Substack. I make about $2,500 a month from side hustles, including gig apps, money-making websites, investing, consulting, and freelance gigs.

These are five of the most lucrative and realistic side hustles I've found, especially for beginners.

1. Paid market research

This is one of the simplest ways I've ever made money, and I still do it today.

Companies need feedback from real people. Sometimes they're looking for niche groups like accountants or grocery store workers, but you can join platforms to find open focus groups or market research calls.

Typically, you apply for studies through platforms like User Interviews or Respondent. If you're selected, you join a Zoom call with a researcher, answer questions for 30 to 60 minutes, and get paid.

The pay varies widely, but it's common to earn $50 to $80 for a half-hour session, or $75 to $100 for an hour. A few months ago, I did a 45-minute conversation about AI and earned $200.

The downside is that you won't qualify for most studies you apply to, and you have to apply to each one. Still, I can usually land one every month or two, and the work is easy and low-stress.

2. Niche gig economy apps

Most people think of the gig economy as Uber or DoorDash, but there's a whole world of lesser-known apps that can be pretty lucrative.

One example is Sharetown. It partners with mattress and furniture brands to handle oversize returns — things like sofas and mattresses that retailers don't want back in their warehouses.

As a Sharetown rep, you pick up returned items from customers, resell them on Facebook Marketplace, and split the proceeds with the company. Sharetown tells you what to pick up and what price to list it for.

I've spoken with reps who make a few thousand dollars a month, especially in busy areas. You need a vehicle that can haul large items, but for the right person, it's a clever way to start a flipping business with almost no upfront risk.

There are also apps like Dolly and Lugg, which pay people to help with moving jobs. You can sign up as a driver if you have a vehicle, or just as a helper if you don't.

3. Rewards and discovery apps

Rewards apps have improved a lot in recent years. They're apps that pay users for downloading apps, playing mobile games, and trying products and services.

I use Scrambly. I've earned more than $1,000 using it in testing over the last few months. One offer I received paid me $250 to open a bank account.

I don't recommend this as a primary source of income. Most of the time, you're earning around $4-$5 per hour, but if you're already playing mobile games or planning to switch bank accounts, it's worth checking them out.

4. AI training and data annotation

One new side hustle I've been testing is AI training.

Many companies hire human testers to review AI-generated outputs from different models and rate them, helping improve them over time. It's essentially quality assurance for artificial intelligence.

I recently started testing this space and was accepted into a platform called Micro1. After a 20-minute screening process, I was able to apply for paid projects.

Pay rates vary dramatically. Some roles pay only a few dollars an hour, while more specialized projects, such as those that require a Ph.D. in a specific field, can pay $25 to $50 or more. The work is fairly steady, and some even offer 30 to 40 hours a week.

5. Website and app testing

This is another side hustle I did frequently in college and still recommend for beginners through sites such as PlaytestCloud, Userlytics, and Trymata.

Companies pay users to test websites and apps under development. You follow the instructions or navigate the product yourself, then share honest feedback. Most tests pay $10 to $20 and take about 15 to 20 minutes. Longer tests of up to an hour can pay $50 to $100.

The downside is that you have to sign up and claim the tests while they're available, on a first come first serve basis.

Lessons I've learned

Side hustles can be exciting, and I think people should experiment with them, but if something sounds too good to be true, it probably is.

Before trying anything, I always recommend reading reviews and checking forums as part of basic due diligence. If someone online is promising massive hourly earnings with no downside, that's a red flag.

• Bushra Amiwala quit her job at Google last year to run for Congress full-time.
• She applied for a leave of absence, but said the request was not approved.
• She explains what pushed her to take the leap — and her advice for young professionals.

Last summer, Bushra Amiwala faced a career-defining choice: stay at Google or quit to run for Congress.

In May, Democratic Rep. Jan Schakowsky, who represents Illinois 9th District, announced she would not seek reelection. With the seat open, Amiwala said she began weighing a run, speaking with more than 100 district residents in and around Skokie, where she lives.

As she weighed the decision, Amiwala, 28, said she applied for a six-month unpaid leave of absence from Google. When her request was denied, she said she was left with two options.

"Do I run for this seat and quit my job, or do I stay at Google and never try?" she said. In June, Amiwala announced her candidacy, and on August 30, she resigned from Google to run her campaign full-time.

Over the past year, I've interviewed more than a dozen people — many from Big Tech companies — who quit their jobs without having another role lined up. They've become outliers in an economy where people are quitting at near-decade lows — a trend fueled by a hiring slowdown across tech and other sectors that has left many holding tightly to their jobs.

After leaving their jobs, some took relatively safe paths, eventually joining other companies in similar roles. Others made riskier bets, launching startups or pursuing entirely new careers. Amiwala took a different kind of leap: leaving Google to run for Congress, part of a small but growing wave of younger Americans entering politics.

"The idea of solving problems for people to make their lives easier has always inspired me," Amiwala said.

She asked herself 2 questions before quitting Google

This isn't Amiwala's first time running for office. In 2018, she lost a bid for Cook County commissioner. But a year later, while enrolled at DePaul University, she ran for the Skokie Board of Education and won. At 21, she became one of the first members of Gen Z elected to public office in the US. She balanced this part-time role with a sales associate job at Google based in Chicago, which she started after graduating in 2020.

The financial implications of leaving Google were a "huge consideration" for Amiwala. She said one reason she didn't pursue public service full-time sooner was that she wanted to provide financial support for her immigrant parents — and saw tech as a more stable path.

Despite these concerns, Amiwala said two questions helped her get comfortable with leaving Google. The first was, "Are you all talk and no action?"

"I was always talking about how I'd love to be able to make an impact in Congress," she said. "So it's like, are you all talk? Are you actually going to do it?"

The second question was whether, five or 10 years from now, she would regret the decision.

"For me, it was a no-brainer," she said. "I knew I'd regret not doing it, and that matrix of decision-making made it really easy for me."

Since resigning, she said she's taken some comfort from the savings and equity she'd accumulated over the years. She decided not to pay herself a salary from her campaign funds but has occasionally received small speaking stipends, which have helped cover some expenses. To cut costs, she said she's "deflated" her lifestyle, cutting back on dinners with friends and personal training appointments.

"I think there was a lot of lifestyle inflation that happens when working at a tech role that just isn't as necessary," she said.

Advice for young professionals — and aspiring politicians

Fifteen Democrats, including Amiwala, and four Republicans are running for the congressional seat in the March 17 primary. Recent polling points to three leading Democratic candidates: Evanston Mayor Daniel Biss, Internet content creator Kat Abughazaleh, and Illinois state Sen. Laura Fine.

Amiwala said she's focused on her campaign and hasn't yet thought seriously about what would come next if she loses the election. But she's navigated challenges before in her career.

The summer after her junior year at DePaul, where she studied management information systems, she interned at a large consulting firm — but did not receive a return offer. That fall, during her senior year, she applied for a role at Google without a referral and, after a few interviews, received an offer.

Amiwala's advice for young professionals: It's unrealistic to expect your career to fulfill the financial, emotional, and spiritual aspects of your life that matter most. So you might have to look outside your job for these things.

For anyone considering leaving their jobs to run for office, she recommends speaking with community leaders who can provide insight into the issues constituents care about. She said that running for office isn't the only way to get involved politically, but that if you're considering it, it could be a sign you're well-suited for it.

"It's a very specific type of person who thinks about running for office," she said. "The average person does not think like that. So if that is something that interests you and you feel uniquely equipped to do it successfully, you absolutely should."

• Companies like HP and IBM have signaled they're replacing jobs with AI.
• In February, CEO Jack Dorsey announced that Block was eliminating approximately 40% of staff.
• Klarna's workforce has halved in the last four years, and its CEO says it will shrink more.

Worries about AI one day replacing human workers have intensified in recent years — and as it turns out, that future has already arrived.

MIT released a study last year that found that AI can already replace 11.7% of the US labor market. The study utilized a labor simulation tool called the Iceberg Index, which models 151 million US workers and measures how AI overlaps with skills in each occupation.

As AI starts to replace human workers and companies invest heavily in the tech, companies have been increasingly open about the role AI adoption is playing in recent layoffs. However, while some companies have directly cited AI as a reason for workforce reductions, others have vacillated with their messaging, leaving ambiguity around the exact reasoning and whether AI is directly replacing workers.

Even as some companies replace human workers with AI, they might end up hiring more people in other roles because of it. A World Economic Forum survey found that 41% of companies globally are expected to reduce their workforces over the next five years because of AI. Meanwhile, tech jobs in big data, fintech, and AI are expected to double by 2030, the WEF said.

Here's a list of companies that are replacing — or signaling they may replace — humans with AI.

Amazon

Amazon CEO Andy Jassy has said that AI-driven efficiency gains would shrink the retail giant's workforce in the coming years — but in the company's two recent mass layoffs, Jassy said the cuts were about culture, not AI.

"Our ambition is to be the world's largest startup," Amazon executives wrote in two memos viewed by Business Insider in January. "That means doubling down on a culture of ownership, speed, and experimentation — which requires us to continue evolving how we're structured."

An Amazon spokesperson also previously reiterated to Business Insider that the cuts last October were not driven by AI.

When the October layoffs were announced, Amazon's senior vice president of people experience and technology wrote in a blog post that the move reflected a continued effort to run the company "like the world's largest startup." The SVP, Beth Galetti, also referenced a need to be leaner in the age of AI.

"This generation of AI is the most transformative technology we've seen since the internet, and it's enabling companies to innovate much faster than ever before," Galetti wrote in the post.

Atlassian

Atlassian announced cuts of 1,600 jobs in March, totaling about 10% of its global workforce. The move comes as the Australian-American software company says it is restructuring to focus on AI and enterprise growth.

In a filing with the US Securities and Exchange Commission, the company said the reduction was part of a broader effort to reposition the business for what CEO Mike Cannon-Brookes described as the "AI era."

"It would be disingenuous to pretend AI doesn't change the mix of skills we need or the number of roles required in certain areas. It does," Cannon-Brookes wrote in a message to employees.

On the "20VC" podcast in October last year, prior to the cuts, Cannon-Brookes said he planned to have more engineers at the company in five years.

"They will be more efficient, but technology creation is not output-bound," Cannon-Brookes said.

Block

In a post on X last month, billionaire and Block CEO Jack Dorsey said he was slashing nearly half of Block's workforce, cutting its over 10,000-person staff to under 6,000. The move came as he said business was strong and profits were growing, but a new way of working was emerging.

"We're already seeing that the intelligence tools we're creating and using, paired with smaller and flatter teams, are enabling a new way of working which fundamentally changes what it means to build and run a company," Dorsey said in his memo on X.

In the company's earnings call that followed the memo, Dorsey said that more companies will follow suit in using AI to drive efficiency gains. Block is already ahead of the trend that "all companies will eventually" adopt, the CEO said.

Fiverr

Micha Kaufman, the CEO and founder of Fiverr, said last September that the company was slashing roughly 30% of its workforce. The cut would affect about 250 team members, and the freelancing platform had 762 full-time employees as of 2024, according to an SEC filing.

The CEO said that the cuts were needed to help turn Fiverr into a leaner and faster "AI-first company."

Kaufman said in a staff memo last April that AI was "coming for your jobs," and in May, he told Business Insider that Fiverr would only hire people who know how to use AI.

"If you don't ensure that you sharpen your knives, you're going to be left behind. It's that simple," Kaufman said.

HP

HP said it's reducing the size of its corporate workforce as a result of AI initiatives. In an earnings report last November, the company said it plans to cut between 4,000 and 6,000 jobs by the end of 2028, estimating the changes would save around $1 billion.

HP's earnings presentation at the time said part of its strategy was to cut costs through "workforce reductions, platform simplification, programs consolidation, and productivity measures" and to increase customer satisfaction, innovation, and productivity with "artificial intelligence adoption and enablement."

IBM

Arvind Krishna, CEO of IBM, told The Wall Street Journal last year that it had replaced hundreds of human resources employees with AI.

More recently, the company announced last November that it would cut thousands of workers in the fourth quarter of 2025, affecting a "single-digit percentage of its global workforce." Its CEO, Arvind Krishna, said the company is shifting priorities to hire more people around AI and quantum. He also said the company plans to increase hiring among recent college graduates over the next year.

Krishna has also said AI adoption has led to the company hiring more employees in programming and sales.

In 2023, Krishna told Bloomberg that IBM had halted or slowed hiring for back-office roles, like in human resources, that could be replaced by AI.

"I could easily see 30% of that getting replaced by AI and automation over a five-year period," he told the outlet at the time.

Klarna

Klarna's CEO says its workforce has halved over the last four years and will shrink further in the coming years.

In an interview with Harry Stebbings on the "20 VC" podcast on Monday, Sebastian Siemiatkowski said there are about 3,000 employees at Klarna, and he expects the company's workforce to drop below 2,000 by 2030. The company had 7,000 employees in 2022, he said.

The CEO said the reduction is a result of layoffs and "natural attrition," which is when the company doesn't replace workers who leave.

Siemiatkowski said on Monday that "human connection" will be vital for the company, and jobs involved in that will not be replaced by AI.

"Those jobs will remain, but for the rest it's going to be definitely smaller," he said.

Klarna declined to comment further when contacted by Business Insider. A spokesperson previously said that its AI assistant handles the equivalent workload of 853 full-time agents, up from 700 at launch. The spokesperson said it was saving the company an estimated $58 million annually.

Salesforce

Salesforce cut fewer than 1,000 workers in February, including employees from marketing, product management, data analytics, and its Agentforce AI product.

In an episode of "The Logan Bartlett Show" released last August, Salesforce CEO Marc Benioff said the company was using AI agents in its customer support division to replace humans and help the company work through more sales leads.

"I was able to rebalance my head count on my support," he said in the interview. "I've reduced it from 9,000 heads to about 5,000 because I need less heads."

A Salesforce spokesperson told Business Insider previously that Benioff was referencing an organizational transformation that took place over several months to reshape its customer support function.

After deploying Agentforce, the company no longer needed to "actively backfill support engineer roles," the spokesperson said, adding that it successfully redeployed hundreds of employees into other areas of the company, like professional services, sales, and customer success.

Wisetech

Zubin Appoo, the CEO of Wisetech, said the logistics software maker is cutting 2,000 jobs, or 30% of its staff, because of AI-led efficiency.

In a conference call on February 25, Appoo said that AI enables greater productivity in less time and with fewer employees. The Sydney-based company employed about 7,000 people, according to an annual report released in October.

"I am prepared to say this clearly: the era of manually writing code as the core act of engineering is over," Appoo said. The technology is "unlocking levels of efficiency gains across WiseTech that were previously out of reach."

In some parts of the workforce, such as customer service, one in two workers will disappear, he added.

Correction: December 1, 2025 — The bullet points of this article have been updated to clarify Amazon's statements about how AI may affect its workforce.

• Jay Zigmont has been married for 17 years and has no kids.
• He rents his home because he and his wife move frequently.
• He's unlikely to retire fully, but likes a more fluid approach to work.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Jay Zigmont, founder of Childfree Wealth and Childfree Trust. It has been edited for length and clarity.

I wear a shirt when I want to start conversations. It says, "Proudly childfree and wealthy."

At financial conferences, it stops people in their tracks and gives me an opportunity to talk about my work helping childfree people make estate plans that match their lives.

My wife, Vicki, and I have been married for nearly 17 years. Because of a health condition she has, we always knew we wouldn't have kids. It's shaped everything about how we approach life, including our ideas about our careers, finances, retirement, and even home ownership.

Vicki is Catholic, and wanted to get married in the Catholic Church, but they wouldn't marry us if we didn't plan to have children. We asked three different churches, and all had the same answer. We got married at my Methodist church, and that was the first time we realized how much being childfree would impact all areas of our lives.

I'd like to die with very little money, not acquire more wealth

I'm 48, but in my late 30s, I had achieved my career and financial goals. I had $1 million in the bank and no debt, but I didn't know where to go from there.

As a childfree person, there's a point when you can have too much wealth. I'm not trying to build generational wealth — in fact, I'd like to die with very little money. That means my career isn't driven by financial gain. I focus on purpose, not profit.

Whatever Vicki and I have when we die will be left to our nephews, but I hope it's not much. Instead of leaving them a large sum later in life, we're supporting them when they need it most. We contribute to their college funds, and I would be happy to consider investing in their businesses or helping them buy a house. We also give generously to charities — my personal favorite is a charity that buys and forgives medical debt.

I likely won't ever retire fully

I plan to always work in some way. Instead of focusing on early retirement, I follow a FILE approach: "financial independence, live early." I want to work on projects I enjoy, but do so on my own time, from anywhere.

When you don't have kids, you have to reimagine the typical idea of success and what life can look like. That can take months, because you're untangling a lifetime of messaging, to figure out what you truly want.

I encourage people to think about this by writing their obituary. Mine would say something like "loving husband, world traveler, author, and innovator." Those are the things I want to focus on — not building wealth for wealth's sake. A few years ago, I tried my hand at maple syrup farming just because it sounded enjoyable.

My legacy will be helping other childfree people

Vicki and I rent our home, and although we've owned in the past, I don't think we ever will again. We move often, every two to three years, since we're not tied to a specific school system or living near family to help watch the kids. Renting saves us money, and I think it's usually the right move for most childfree people.

Recently, Tennessee, where I live, passed a bill requiring students to learn about the "success sequence": graduating, getting a job, getting married, and having kids. We're taught so much about that one path to success, but there are more options.

My legacy won't be children, but rather helping other childfree people find the success sequence that's right for them.

• Monica Nassif, founder of Mrs. Meyer's Clean Day, retired at 53.
• Nassif said scaling struggles pushed her to sell her brands to SC Johnson in 2008.
• "It deserves to be in the hands of people who can scale this much better than we can," Nassif said.

For some founders, selling their company to an internationally recognized corporation like SC Johnson is a cause for unbridled celebration. For Monica Nassif, it was more complicated.

"It's really bittersweet," Nassif, founder of Mrs. Meyer's Clean Day, told Business Insider. "I had to sell my mother."

Nassif's 93-year-old mother is the inspiration behind the household cleaning products. Thelma Meyers, an avid gardener, raised Nassif and her eight siblings as a homemaker in Iowa. The items she grew in the family's backyard — basil, lavender, lemon — were the basis for the Mrs. Meyer's Clean Day product scents.

"At one time, we had this trailer that was designed like her kitchen," Nassif said, referring to Thelma. "We used to take it to music events or places like the Embarcadero in San Francisco. People stood in line for that. They'd get samples, and she'd sign their bottles."

Nassif launched Mrs. Meyer's Clean Day and an upscale version, Caldrea, in 1999. By the mid-2000s, Nassif's brands were becoming part of people's daily lives. Caldrea, a premium essential oil-infused household cleaning brand, was sold at upscale grocery and specialty gift stores. Mrs. Meyer's Clean Day gained a foothold in mass-market retailers like Whole Foods, pushing the company to new heights.

So, when SC Johnson acquired the brands for an undisclosed amount in 2008, Nassif said the decision didn't come lightly. However, a phone call she had avoided for weeks changed everything.

Going international

In the early days, Nassif would often market her products at trade shows, where investors could be found searching for their next moneymaker. Among the curious crowd was SC Johnson, which owns popular brands like Windex, Drano, Ziploc, Scrubbing Bubbles, and Fantastik.

"A whole team from SC Johnson shows up during one of our first trade shows with Caldrea. We're probably maybe a year old, and our booth is so tiny," Nassif said. "I was trying to sell my product and needed to open wholesale accounts, so I asked them politely to leave, but I knew why they were interested. I'm sure we were very fascinating to them."

Nassif said she ignored "countless private equity and venture capital guys" for years as her brands grew.

"I always asked all these potential investors one question: "What can you do for us that we can't do for ourselves?" Nassif said. "We were great at marketing, and pretty good at sales."

Other areas, though, were less successful.

"Distribution and scaling rapidly, not so great," Nassif said. Still, Nassif kept her head down and pushed forward until she got a call from SC Johnson.

"I refused that call for weeks. I didn't even know who it was," Nassif said. "But it gets to a point where you go, 'I want this to be bigger. This is a great brand. It deserves to be in the hands of people who can scale this much better than we can.'"

She added: "We neither had that skillset nor the capital to figure it out."

Mrs. Meyer's Clean Day is now sold in major retailers across the United States, Canada, and Singapore. Both brands have products available through online retailers like Amazon.

Failed retirement

Nassif retired from the company in 2010. She was 53. Her days out of the office didn't stick, though.

"I failed retirement," Nassif said. "I liked working. I liked creative projects. I liked being involved in startups. They have incredible energy, and it really keeps you alert and aware of what's happening."

Most recently, Nassif wrote a part-memoir, part-business guide titled "I Bottled My Mother," which hits shelves on March 24.

"I speak to entrepreneurs and the questions are always the same," Nassif said. "'How do you do it? Where do you get your ideas? What should I do first?' I thought it'd be fun to do a startup manual. Hey, if you're thinking about starting a business, here's how to go about it."

She also wanted to honor her mother.

"It's really a childhood memoir about how the Mrs. Meyer's brand came into being," she said.

• Camillia Nwokedi left her tech career to become a content creator in 2025.
• She started with $6,000 in savings and experimented with posting for 60 days before leaving tech.
• Nwokedi said the journey is lonely, but it's the best decision she has ever made.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Camillia Nwokedi, a 28-year-old content creator based in Pittsburgh. It's been edited for length and clarity.

When the crypto startup I was working for was sold in July 2025, I saw it as the perfect opportunity to go all in on myself as a content creator. I had about $6,000 in savings and less than 40,000 followers on TikTok, but I believed I was worth the investment.

In less than a year, I've gained brand deals, consulting and coaching clients, and I'm launching my second cohort soon. I'm taking the lessons I learned from the startup to build myself from the ground up.

It's been a difficult emotional journey, but investing in myself is the best decision I've ever made.

I worked at Accenture before getting into crypto

I worked at Accenture from late 2019 to 2021. Bitcoin was popping off at the time, and I started getting the itch to get into crypto, so I started listening to podcasts and building connections in that space.

In 2022, I connected with the CEO of a bitcoin rewards platform, and we hit it off right away. He offered me a job as a special ops agent, and I took it.

The team was really amazing, and I had a lot of senior responsibility, which I loved. At the same time, I was building a social media presence on TikTok and Instagram, where I posted about optimization, self-belief, competence, and more.

In mid-2025, the company was preparing to be sold, and I saw it as an opportunity to give myself a shot. I had been posting consistently, and it really gave me confidence to start looking at myself as an entity and not just a cog in the system.

I had helped scale and sell for other people, but now it was time to give myself that opportunity.

I did a 60-day trial run before going all in on content creation

In the 60 days prior to leaving the startup, I did a series on TikTok called SIM 60, where I posted a video each day pretending to act like a video game Sim. It was all an attempt to get me out of my head, put myself out there, and make content creation more fun. What it did was unblock me as a creative and force me to stop taking myself so seriously.

My audience significantly grew in that period, which gave me confidence that I'd be able to make life as a content creator work.

There are two necessary components for creating a startup: finances and self-belief. And sometimes, if you don't have the financial component, your self-belief can make up for that gap. Getting my self-belief up helped me feel as though I could go all in.

I started with $6,000 in savings and created a research and development budget

A lot of the initial planning was trying to get my working capital in place so that I could make this leap. I had about $6,000 in liquid savings and a retirement account with about $30,000 in it, which I didn't want to touch.

It wasn't a lot to go off of, but because I had been putting myself out there on social media consistently and even had a few user-generated content (UGC) and brand deals coming in, I had a lot of self-belief.

I even gave myself a research and development budget, so I had a little money set aside if I wanted to invest in coaching or consulting to help me with my branding. Thankfully, I haven't touched my retirement account.

I set quarterly goals and have days dedicated to things like CEO and CFO responsibilities

I looked at all the roles that I would have to maintain as a one-person business and decided to split my week into days dedicated to each role.

I have CEO day, COO day, CMO day, and more. It makes it so that every part of me can show up at the table, but I'm not necessarily asking myself to do it all at once.

Tuesdays are typically consulting and operations days for me. This is when I get things in order and execute things for my clients. As much as I've left the 9-to-5, I try to work within that realm for the structure. It helps me manage my time well without overwhelm.

I also give myself quarterly goals or KPIs, which has been comforting. It adds familiarity and structure to a space that is entirely new territory for me.

It's been an emotional and lonely journey

The most challenging and the most worthwhile part of switching from tech to content creation has been the emotional journey.

One morning, I cried because I was so stressed. There's a lot of discomfort that comes along with pursuing my goals. It can feel lonely to be building something entirely on my own.

I have to gentle-parent myself and my nervous system to keep going, and to keep believing that it's going to pay off.

It's hard to communicate to people how many internal conversations I have with myself on a daily basis to reframe old narratives and rewire limiting self-beliefs.

At the end of every week, I can't believe I made it

If you're considering leaving your job or making a big leap, don't ignore that feeling or settle.

I think people often stay as close to their dreams as possible without actually going after them directly.

As someone with not much savings who is still pursuing her dream, and it's working out, I could not recommend it more. It's the best decision I've ever made, and I hope others can have the experience of pursuing what they want as directly as possible.

Do you have a story about leaving tech and pursuing a different career you want to share? Email the editor, Manseen Logan, at mlogan@businessinsider.com.

• Business Insider gathered chief people officers and senior leaders for an on-the-record dinner in New York City.
• The event, Futureproofing Your Workforce in the Age of AI, highlighted the relentless change HR executives are navigating.
• Below are excerpts from the discussion, edited for clarity.

"Are we working for AI at this point or is AI working for us?" Maxine Carrington, the Chief People Officer of Northwell Health asked a group of HR and people executives who were gathered for dinner on a rainy night in New York City recently.

"How we can use those tools as enablers to help us achieve our goals, that's the mindset I need us to have, not chasing the tools."

Heads around the table nodded in agreement. The group, convened by Business Insider, spent ninety minutes in a conversation titled "Futureproofing Your Workforce in the Age of AI," presented by Indeed.

"I do think it's an organizational, transformational challenge and not a technological one," Gareth Lewis of Lewis People & Culture Advisory said at one point. "But right now the conversation's all around tools, efficiencies, headcount reductions, and not so much about how we actually are going to redesign our roles."

Redesigning roles is exactly what Agnes Garaba, Chief People Officer at UiPath, is striving to do, but it's not easy.

"So we basically asked every single one of the functional leaders to think about what the future would look like," she said. "If I could go out today and blow up my entire HR team and reimagine it from scratch, what would that look like? And it's a hard exercise. Often I find our imagination is the biggest barrier, so to say, to get there."

The tension between AI driving total transformation versus a focus on integrating AI tools was top-of-mind for the executives gathered together. But in the wide-ranging conversation, plenty of other topics were discussed too. Below are some highlights.

How to help employees become AI "power users"

Katie Burke, COO, Harvey: Part of what you have to start asking yourself is, is your organization experimenting and dipping your toe in the water or are you driving actual impact and transformation? And not surprisingly, there are patterns across every industry on what makes the difference between those.

Number one is senior leaders actually being in on the work. So not saying, "Here's the example that I can share." It's actually building the agents themselves, for example, or attending those hackathons.

And you cannot drive transformation, in my opinion, just with a stick. There has to be some level of carrot and reward and excitement, and I think people operate at their best when they are not operating out of fear.

Make partners prove the value of AI tools they're providing

Roz Harris, VP, Talent, Zillow: Put the pressure on your product partners, the vendors that you're using, to justify their roadmaps and why they're getting your dollar. Because your shareholders, your leaders are (asking), 'What's the big revolutionary bang that's going to unlock our teams? That's going to unlock the business, going to move things forward?'

I can promise you many of us aren't companies that are going to build that thing ourselves. But we do have product partners who should be enabling us to do those things. But are we articulating our needs to them? Are we articulating those well?

Company-wide hackathons allow employees to shine

Maggie Hulce, Chief Revenue Officer, Indeed: So we have a monthly contest that any employee can be a part of and they submit their ideas of agents or use cases. The sales teams are absolutely running away with it. And people don't think of the sales teams as the ones who are going to build the agents first. So this particular person who we thought of as a salesperson, maybe thought of as one-dimensional, now I see them as having five functional hats.

HR leaders play a key role in pushing companies to adopt AI

Dickie Steele, Partner, McKinsey & Company: How do we build a culture where we go after dramatic productivity improvement on the numerator? Somebody doing a thousand clinical trials, not one clinical trial? I feel as an HR community, we should be a lighthouse in terms of the deployment of (AI) agents. We should be pushing the business to start with a much more compelling value creation thesis than "Can we cook something up that makes our employees marginally more productive?"

Beware the hype around AI dramatically improving your bottom line

Liz Dente, Chief People Officer, Priceline: Dickie, just to push back a little bit is, you know, you're looking for this amazing thousand-times return. The notion of incremental, relentless forward progress every day is just fine with us. You know, it'd be great to be selling a thousand times more plane tickets, but I just don't think that's realistic. And I think there's a lot of hype in the marketplace that you're going to get these massive returns. I just don't think it's true.

• A version of this story originally appeared in the BI Tech Memo newsletter.
• Sign up for the weekly BI Tech Memo newsletter here.

A few Fridays ago, I was feeling smug. I'd just sent another Tech Memo edition telling subscribers to stop worrying about AI eating tech jobs because Anthropic, the leading AI company pushing this narrative, is hiring so many engineers.

So clever! Until I got an email from a reader, Kiran Maya Sheikh. She has a computer science degree from the University of California, Irvine. It's a great school, and she graduated with an impressive GPA. And yet, she's struggling to land that all-important first full-time software engineering job.

"It's bad advice to 'not worry,'" she wrote. "AI is causing disruption in this job market. Employers are prioritizing hiring experienced workers, but not new graduates."

This week, I interviewed Kiran for Tech Memo. It was an eye-opening view into the realities of the new AI economy. Here are the highlights from our chat, edited for clarity and length.

Alistair: What did you think you were signing up for when you first chose computer science as a degree?

Kiran: After getting into UC Irvine in 2020, I took my first coding class and I really enjoyed it. The prospects at this time were that people were going into this major to get great jobs and it was very rewarding and I ended up liking the work.

What did you believe a career in computer science would give you financially, socially, and emotionally?

The dream at the time was definitely everyone was saying, "Let's go work for Google and the FAANG companies and get a six-figure salary." My motivation was just getting a stable job, getting enough money to take care of my family — what everyone wants. I expected that computer science would put me in a position to grow as a software engineer, first and foremost, and then maybe take me to more of the strategic side, the management side. The main thing that I did figure out was that I wanted financial stability and maybe financial independence as well.

Fast forward to late 2022, when ChatGPT launched. Did you see that as a tool at the time or a threat?

I was a hater at the beginning. Then, friends of mine started using ChatGPT and they're like, "Oh, you can just use it like Google. You can just text it and it'll give you the answer." And honestly, my first thought was like, "That's a bit lazy. You can get more learning out of doing the work yourself." But the more time went on, the more that people were using it, and they started using it for class. Suddenly, I was ahead in class. I was doing the assignments well and understanding more.

Was there a moment when you thought generative AI might reduce the need for junior engineers, or do you even believe that?

We all know the current job market. It's not too hot and a lot of companies are citing AI as part of the reason for layoffs — but maybe that they were going to cut those jobs anyway. At the time though, while I was in school and using ChatGPT, I honestly didn't think it would get this far. I expected AI would be integrated into software engineers' work and companies would start integrating it, but I didn't realize there would be potential for it to take over jobs that I was looking for.

I don't think I was very attentive to the job market situation at the time, and I wasn't really thinking that far ahead. More of my worries at the time were just getting that first entry-level position. And I just thought it would be simple: I just get my degree and I would find a company that's hiring. Looking back, it was my mistake to not really research the current job market and maybe what some people were predicting about AI.

I didn't see it coming either. Few people did. Anyway, describe the moment when you realized the job market had changed?

I was already graduating, so this was after June 2025. I was getting into the reality of having to find my first job, and that's when I definitely started noticing something was wrong. A lot of my classmates, I haven't really heard of them getting any opportunities. Everyone's submitting so many resumes and there's a race to use AI to enhance resumes and send them out as fast as you can. And it seemed a lot more intense than I was prepared for.

A lot of my classmates and even students I know who are still in school are not even landing internships right now. It's not looking great. It's a very tough battle right now. So many people are quitting or getting fired or pivoting and there's new grads. Everyone is bracing, and it's a bloodbath right now.

Do you feel like you're competing against AI or laid-off senior engineers or both, or something else?

My fight is definitely with AI and all the competition with entry-level graduates — especially because AI is known to take over more junior roles. So it's important that we stay more relevant and offer something that AI can't. Scrolling through LinkedIn and on my job portals, I see more offers for mid-level positions, but I don't see as many for entry-level roles. So it's like I'm fighting AI and all these other graduates for roles that don't exist yet.

This job search so far, what has it done to your confidence?

I try to be optimistic. I am lucky to have a better situation than some other people do. I'm living at home with family, so I don't have to worry as much about expenses. Still, if I weren't doing anything about my situation, I would feel pretty bummed. I'd feel kind of trapped.

But I've been trying to work on building my network, finding people I know and learning from other people, just finding communities to be involved with. That's really helped my confidence because I find professionals that are trying to help — they are aware of the job market and they know how hard it is to get that first job. The one saving grace in this tough situation is definitely the community I've found and the people I know who are helping me through it.

Did you ever question your decision to study computer science?

Yes, I did question it. But I remember that I do like computer science and I did like what I learned. I really enjoyed my classes and programming. And instead of turning to a new discipline, I think I prefer to just specialize and find out new information and stay ahead of the news. And like I said, offer something that AI can't.

Do you feel like you were trained for a version of the tech industry that no longer exists?

I am a little salty, about this, if that's the right word. During my time at school, a lot of what the degree was about was learning the basics of software engineering. You learn programming languages and you learn how to set up your development and deployment. But right now there are so many more tools and I think that's the constant thing with the software engineering and the tech industry. There's always new technology and there's a lot of learning you have to keep up with.

But with AI in particular, I felt like I graduated a bit too early. Because now AI will probably be more integrated into learning. I had so many professors that were more welcoming towards AI. I remember a really cool professor who shared a website that would let you make your own LLM. And it's really useful stuff, but it wasn't part of the curriculum. It will be now, but I won't be there to see that change.

What I'm doing to help with that, and make the amends, is volunteering and doing more work on the side that involves newer technologies to just stay fresh and relevant and use all these new AI tools and see how I can leverage it.

If a high school senior asked you today whether they should major in computer science, what would you tell them?

It depends on what interests them about computer science. If it's absolutely something they're interested, they love learning about the technology and they want to code, I would still say go for it, but I would recommend how to position yourself for after college.

You need to start much earlier now, networking and knowing how to speak with people and how to apply, how to write a resume. And those all are also much more important now at the start of college, especially getting internships, if at all possible.

So, I would definitely recommend studying computer science, but being realistic about the opportunities available and keeping up with the news and the job market.

What would you say to potential employers out there?

The focus should still be in hiring entry-level talent if possible. I know it's tough with the current market and the economy and what's going on in the world right now. But entry-level talent is still important because you need to build this generation of professionals so that the future will have people to rely on. AI is still uncertain right now. People are still figuring out how it is impactful and it doesn't help to just force it upon your company.

Sign up for BI's Tech Memo newsletter here. Reach out to me via email at abarr@businessinsider.com.