• Lisa Desai moved her family of eight from Florida to Barbados.
• The mom said the kids have more freedom and independence living on the island.
• There are some cons, she added, but they are far outweighed by the pros.

This story is based on an interview with Lisa Desai, 46, founder and CEO of a facility management corporation that operates remotely in her adopted country, Barbados. It has been edited for length and clarity.

Our twins were approaching 14 when my husband, Ebrahim, 59, and I decided to move them and our four younger kids from Hutchinson Island North, Florida, to Barbados.

We were looking for an adventure before they hit 16 and took on responsibilities like getting a driver's license.

Ebrahim and I could run our facility management corporation, The Harmil Group, remotely, and we wanted a drastic change of scene.

We considered Thailand but were put off by the time difference, as we operate in Canada and the US and would be juggling separate schedules.

Greece and Italy seemed like slightly better options, but moving there involved a lot of bureaucracy.

Someone suggested Barbados

Then someone suggested to us, "Hey, why don't you try Barbados?" There was a $3,000 "welcome stamp" program for people who didn't work for a Barbados company and could show they had a certain amount of money in the bank.

It made perfect sense to us because it had super-reliable WiFi and an international airport from which you could fly directly to world cities like New York City and London.

We rented out our homes in Ottawa and Florida and arrived in Barbados on April 19, 2025. It was one of the best decisions of our lives.

I've homeschooled all six kids — now between 5 and 15 — since 2019, and there's a great homeschooling community here. We usually start at 7 a.m. and finish at 1 p.m.

Islanders are polite and friendly

Then we'll do something fun like go to the beach, go sailing, and play golf or tennis. The children are very independent, and we give them freedom to be themselves. Life in Barbados is the adventure we craved.

I don't think they'll fully appreciate it until they're adults, but the exposure to a new culture is very helpful.

Bajans are very friendly, polite, and open-minded. The kids are happy to chat with strangers and don't shy away from them.

Another advantage is the great healthcare system. It's inexpensive, and you get same-day or next-day service.

As for cons, the food can be expensive, and Amazon deliveries take between one and three weeks. If you want to buy something like a rashguard, you might visit five stores before finding the right size.

Transportation is a bit scary for me because it's the other side of the road, and the highways need maintenance. Infrastructure is in progress.

Everyone drives like they're in little go-karts. But you learn to go with the flow. You also need to adapt to island time, when a visit by a plumber arranged for 9 a.m. means sometime that day.

The kids' childhood is unusual

We visited Canada, where Ebrahim and I were raised, in the fall of last year, and it was nice to get some North American vibes. The kids spoke to their friends and family and came away thinking their childhood wasn't the norm.

We still have wanderlust, and our next journey may take us to Europe, but we'll always treasure our stay in Barbados.

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.

• Kerry Feeney bid $3,500 to watch the "Summer House" reunion at the house where the show films.
• Feeney split the cost with her longtime friends, who also watch Bravo. She also claimed the biggest bed.
• "We did a lot of laughing, reminiscing, dancing, and staying up late," she said. "It's a chance to relive our youth."

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Kerry Feeney, a 44-year-old director of hospital administration from Rockaway, New York. Feeney won one of three nights auctioned off by StayMarquis. The essay has been edited for length and clarity.

I've been watching Bravo for years. I think it started with "The Real Housewives of New York" back in the day. Every new one gets better and better.

I've watched "Summer House" from the beginning. I love it. When I was first out of college, I had a house in the Hamptons for the summer. It brought me back to my own Hamptons experience: the drama, the partying. It made me feel like I was in my 20s again.

I knew my friends were just as big Bravo fans as I was. We all grew up in Rockaway, for the most part, and have been friends since we were kids. Everybody went their separate ways, and now everyone's back in the neighborhood again as adults. I'd have no problem getting 15 other people to come with me to the house.

The week prior, we couldn't be at the house, but one of our friends owns a bar. We met up there and had a watch party. We had a private room in the back area, ordered food, and watched the show. We stayed for drinks and discussion afterward.

We bid $3,500. I knew that wouldn't be too big a deal to split up the cost among friends and family.

We carpooled in multiple cars. One of my friends was in Long Island, so we picked her up along the way. The drive was two hours, during which we talked about the show. (Pretty much everyone is very anti-Amanda.)

When we arrived, we first made sure the door didn't stick. On the show, they have a very hard time getting in and out of that.

We all arrived at different times, but my group arrived first. We put our bags down, brought in all the alcohol and food that we had for the night, and we went on a little tour by ourselves. We went through the house like little kids, going through every inch.

Kyle and Amanda's bedroom is 10x bigger than it appears on TV. The bathroom has a heated toilet seat. I know! Every time anybody came in after us, we made sure that they went and tested out the toilet.

We brought some chips and appetizers. My one friend made baked ziti. We all brought wine or Surfsides, and the place was stocked with a cooler full of Loverboy. I think we drank every single one.

Because I was the one who did the bidding, I got to pick first. I obviously picked Kyle and Amanda's room because of the bathroom, and because it had the biggest bed. It opened right up into the backyard.

People picked rooms as they showed up. Everyone was so happy to be there, so nobody was fighting over accommodations. Then, we made some drinks and hung out by the pool.

Another surprising thing about the house that you don't see on the show is that there's a movie theater room. It had recliner seats and a huge TV. There were 16 of us, so we thought it would be better to watch it in the living room.

It started at 8 p.m., and nobody was allowed to talk until there was a commercial. There was a lot of shushing. We didn't want to miss anything.

During the commercials, it was heated, but it wasn't a debate. It was: "We can't believe what's happening or what they're saying." There were reactions to some of the one-liners from Ciara and Lindsay, and Amanda and West were insufferable.

We discussed it for the rest of the night. Then, we put on some music, went outside, had some drinks, and hung out. It was a beautiful night. There were staggering bedtimes. I think the latest group stayed up 'til around 4 a.m. We were joking that we could have our own version with a cast of 40-something-year-old women.

The following day, some people had to get back to work, but a couple of us went to lunch in Sag Harbor.

It was absolutely worth it. It was even better in person, just because of the memories attached to it. It's easy to understand how the cast has so much fun there every summer. We did a lot of laughing, reminiscing, dancing, and staying up late. It's a chance to relive our youth.

The best part was being able to share it with my friends, who are also such big Bravo fans. We've watched it together over the years and have spoken about it so much that celebrating it in the house made it feel that much more special.

• 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.

• 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.

• 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.

• Stacy Lentz has co-owned the Stonewall Inn with three others since 2006.
• She went into credit card debt to buy the Inn, and has never made much money.
• Owning it has been the responsibility of a lifetime, and given her purpose, she says.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Stacy Lentz, co-owner of the Stonewall Inn and CEO of the Stonewall Inn Gives Back Initiative. It has been edited for length and clarity.

I grew up middle-class, in the middle of a cornfield, in the middle-of-nowhere Kansas. That's a lot of middles, but once I moved to New York City in my 20s, I felt like I had discovered the center of the world.

I probably knew that I was gay since I was younger, but I fought it. I went to school with the same 16 kids each year. I knew that I tended to develop crushes on my friends who were girls. As for the guys, I wanted to be their best friends, but had no desire to date them.

At 24, I walked into my first gay bar in New York and immediately thought, "Oh, these are my people."

I took on credit card debt to buy the Stonewall Inn

After that, I spent a lot of time in LGBTQ+ bars. There was a piano bar three buildings down from The Stonewall Inn that I just loved. Having grown up as a theater kid, being in a piano bar in New York City has always been fun. I became a regular there, and befriended the manager, a man named Kurt Kelly, who has since become like a brother to me.

I had walked into the Stonewall Inn before, in the 90s. At the time, I knew a bit about the significance, but the site wasn't being treated with any historic reverence. Then, in 2006, Kurt and I heard that the Inn was shutting down.

We realized we had a chance to preserve history for our community. So, along with two other partners, we bought the Stonewall Inn. I had to go into credit card debt to do that, but this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

I haven't made much, but it's not about the money

My background is in marketing, and by that point, I had become a vocal advocate for the LGBTQ+ community. I knew I could help make the inn a success and raise its profile. Still, the first year was really difficult. We had a roof collapse and needed to put a lot of work into the building.

I made my investment back within the first couple of years, but I've never made much money from the bar. We're very transparent about that. Our rent is $55,000 a month. That's a lot of vodka soda to sell.

For me, it's never been about the money. That wasn't the point. I see myself and my co-owners as stewards of this place. When we purchased it, there was nothing about the history of the Stonewall Inn displayed. Today, there are historic artifacts, including the original "raided property" sign from 1969. Upstairs, we have a community center where we host everything from fundraisers to weddings.

We're honoring the legacy and continuing to take action

Owning the Stonewall Inn has been the responsibility of a lifetime. It's not just about keeping the lights on; it's about keeping the mission alive.

My co-owners and I believe that queer history can't be preserved without providing for queer futures. In 2017, we started a nonprofit, the Stonewall Inn Gives Back Initiative. We provide safe-space training to other establishments, and also provide support to the LGBTQ+ folks in the places where it's most difficult to be queer, like Mississippi, Uganda, or Kansas, where I grew up.

The nonprofit has a small budget of between $60,000 to $120,000 a year. Still, it's something my co-owners and I are really proud of. If we rely on our legacy, without continuing to take action, it just becomes branding. That's why we're determined to not just honor the Inn's past but to also have a real impact on the future of the LGBTQ+ community.

• Mori Nishimura, 34, grew up in New Zealand and moved to Japan at 16.
• After graduation, he began his career at real estate companies in Tokyo.
• Last year, he started his own company, which provides nature-based stays in mobile cabins in Japan.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Mori Nishimura, 34, the CEO of A Cabin Company in Japan. It's been edited for length and clarity.

I felt lost growing up. As a kid in New Zealand, I never questioned where I belonged. But as I got older, I became more aware of how different I was from my peers, which sparked my curiosity about Japan and my father's decision to leave it behind.

My father moved our family to Auckland because he wanted us to grow up surrounded by nature and away from the pressures of city life in Japan.

There weren't many Japanese families around, and I often felt caught between two cultures.

At 16, I moved to Japan by myself and enrolled in a boarding school in Kyoto. Life there was the opposite of New Zealand: Suddenly, I had curfews instead of the freedom to roam.

For the first time, I wasn't the odd one out. Two-thirds of the students were returnees — kids who had grown up abroad and come back to Japan — and they understood.

Exploring the countryside

Later, at university, I started exploring Japan. In the morning, before school started, I'd often drive out to different places and go surfing. I became fascinated with the Japanese countryside.

It reminded me of my childhood in New Zealand, when I used to escape into the woods near our house and build huts.

After graduating in 2015, I felt lost again and considered returning to New Zealand. Instead, I stayed in Tokyo and worked in real estate. A few years later, I started posting on LinkedIn about Japan's real estate market, the countryside, hospitality, and other interests. Eventually, I decided to strike out on my own.

During the pandemic, I traveled through rural Japan and reflected on what I wanted next. I came across a US company building tiny cabins on trailer chassis and saw an opportunity in Japan: fully operational accommodations that could bypass building permits and zoning laws because they were legally classified as vehicles.

I adapted the concept.

Starting a company from scratch

In 2024, I shared the idea on LinkedIn and wasn't targeting investors. Over time, though, the posts began attracting people who wanted to be part of what I was building.

A year later, when I launched a pre-seed fundraiser, investors reached out to back the business. My two full-time employees also found me through LinkedIn — the platform became an unexpected way to build both a team and a network of supporters.

The money raised from the fundraiser was used to open the first cabin in a national park in Chiba — about a two-hour train ride from central Tokyo — in August that year.

The 16-square-meter cabin is made from Japanese sugi and hinoki cedar and centered around a large picture window overlooking nature. Guests get complimentary firewood, coffee, and tea, plus bikes for rides to a nearby supermarket. It reached full occupancy within three months and has stayed booked ever since.

My second cabin opened in May, and my third will open in September.

Since the cabins are built on trailers, they are legally classified as vehicles rather than buildings.

Running a startup in Japan has been challenging because the ecosystem is still relatively new compared to those in other countries. There aren't many venture capital firms, so there aren't a lot of funding options.

The cabin costs about 30,000 Japanese yen for two guests, or about $190, a night.

So far, around 70% of our guests have been women. That came as a surprise, as I thought we'd get more solo male travelers, but we haven't had any.

Living up to my name

I didn't tell my parents when I started the business; they probably would have stopped me. When they found out, they were surprised but supportive.

My father was my biggest inspiration. About five years ago, he moved back to Japan and started looking for affordable land in the countryside where he could build a small cabin himself. But after being diagnosed with a terminal illness, he never got to see it completed. That experience gave me an even stronger sense of purpose in building the company.

He also gave me the name "Mori," which simply means "forest" in Japanese. It felt like I was born to do this.

Rebuilding my relationship with nature

My company focuses on nature, but I don't get to go out as much these days, except when I bring in guests. I work every day of the week.

Resting in Tokyo or any other big city is different because you never really switch off. I like doing campfires and having barbecues when I have the chance.

I want to enjoy my own cabin, but I can't because it's booked out.

• Erin Vlack was 280 pounds overweight and resolved to get in shape and change her lifestyle.
• She took things further when she moved from North Carolina to Spain to be closer to her son.
• The single mom told Business Insider that she is much happier and healthier after the switch.

This story is based on an interview with Erin Vlack, 48, a pharmaceutical supply chain consultant living in Valencia, Spain. It has been edited for length and clarity.

In April last year, two months after leaving my steady job in pharmaceuticals, I was in discussion with another company about a full-time position.

It was tempting to accept the senior directorship they offered, but I dismissed the idea at the last minute.

My 25-year-old son, Gavin, was studying medicine in Spain, and I missed him so much. "What if I moved to Europe to be with him?" I asked myself.

I spoke to immigration lawyers

I reached out to immigration lawyers that very afternoon. I'm a great believer in striking when the iron is hot, before excuses creep in.

Now, just over 12 months later, I'm renting a three-bedroom house less than 20 minutes away from Gavin in Valencia, the happiest and healthiest I've ever been.

Still, I'm no stranger to reinvention. A decade ago, at 5ft 5in, I weighed 430 pounds — 280 pounds overweight for my height — and wore size 28 clothing. I struggled to catch my breath when I did anything active, like taking my kid to the park.

Both my parents died within a year of each other, and I binged and comfort ate out of grief. I was a single mom, and there were financial issues that left me unable to afford fresh food all the time.

I'd buy things from Walmart and the Dollar Store, which weren't very healthy. Before long, I looked in the mirror and thought, "Oh my God, what have you done to your body?"

I had a mastectomy

The shock was enough to make me follow the Keto diet and start exercising. I lost 172 pounds before having gastric bypass surgery in 2022, which helped me get down to 140 pounds and size six jeans.

In 2024, I had a bilateral mastectomy and reconstruction because breast cancer runs in both sides of my family.

But the biggest change by far was selling my home near Raleigh, North Carolina, donating my property to charity, and arriving at the airport in Madrid with three suitcases.

I quickly found my bearings and my house with Gavin's assistance. I traveled on a so-called "non-lucrative visa," which means you come to Spain with only your passive income and savings.

Now, I'm waiting to convert to a highly qualified, high-value immigrant status that will allow me to be a digital nomad.

I'm fluent in Spanish now

As soon as I get my new visa, I'll plow my energy into the clinical trials supply company I founded. It feels exciting to be working for myself.

I'm in it for the duration and plan to stay in Spain, where I'm fluent in the language, until I can apply for long-term residency. The only things I really miss about the US are my friends and my sports car.

It's great to be so close to Gavin again. Although he's busy with his studies, we make time for meals and hugs.

We recently returned from a weekend trip when we talked, cooked, and enjoyed a couple of glasses of wine.

Food here is healthy

Everything is easygoing here. You'll walk through a plaza where a group of kids is playing while parents enjoy a coffee and casually kick the ball back to them.

The produce is fresh, and people walk everywhere. I look after my health by going to the gym six times a week and doing yoga outside on my terrace.

Every morning, I wake to the magnificent views of the mountains near the city. I've never felt more content and settled in my life.

• Hana Elster, a college senior, used Claude during winter break to create a website in five days.
• She spent under $2,000 to get an online vintage marketplace up and running.
• Elster said she hopes that it'll be a successful side hustle as she moves into the corporate world.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Hana Elster, a 22-year-old senior at Boston University who founded VYA, an online vintage marketplace. It has been edited for length and clarity.

I'm a senior at college studying business law at Boston University, graduating in May.

I've always loved the idea of being your own boss and building something for yourself.

I'm also surrounded by a big founder community in Boston and New York. Seeing all these other people my age or a little bit older building things for themselves inspired me to do something for myself.

Over winter break, I used Claude to build an app that now has hundreds of users.

My love for vintage gave me a business idea

I went thrifting for the first time when I was around 14. You'd go to the regular mall and find a shirt for $30, but I could find 10 shirts for $30 at my nearest Goodwill, and I'd be wearing something nobody else had.

So it piqued my interest in secondhand shopping, getting good value, and developing a unique style. Now, I would say 80% of my closet is secondhand.

Last year, I was talking with one of my friends about our favorite stores in our hometowns, and she told me about an amazing vintage store in Chicago. I'm originally from Washington, DC, and I wouldn't have known about this store unless we'd had this conversation.

I realized there is space for a centralized vintage platform.

I reached out to many shops to learn about their pain points and where they want to grow. The sellers mainly said they want more eyes on their products.

Brick-and-mortar vintage stores told me they had websites, but most of their sales come from foot traffic. Shop owners said they put a lot of work into their website, yet they only got one sale a month on that platform.

Stores that are fully online said they had to post three times a day on Instagram and TikTok because marketing was the only way to get their name out. A lot of these sellers also had full-time jobs, and vintage sales were their side hustle, so they didn't have time to do much work.

Using Claude to code a website in five days

To build the app, I started vibe coding. I have some coding experience, but Claude Code has let me move at a pace I would never have been able to.

I connected with a friend who had built a fashion app years ago, and he prompted me to learn how to vibe code. In January, I started with Cursor and eventually began coding with Claude, and the project accelerated really fast.

I started on January 9 and built a mock website for VYA by January 13, over winter break. It got me so excited, thinking about how I was turning lines of code into something visual, with buttons and functions and everything.

Five days later, I had a website. Friends in tech also helped me look over the code and make sure everything flowed correctly.

Monetization

I've spent under $2,000 on app development so far, which covers all technical and operational costs. It's self-funded by my savings, and I've also received some grants from Boston University.

More than three months on, we have 38 stores fully onboarded and continuing to grow, and roughly 900 approved users, of whom 50% are daily active users. My goal is that when you're checking out vintage websites like The RealReal, you also open VYA.

To monetize it, I'm charging a 7% commission per item sold, with an average price of about $350. I'm also trying out a model called "source for requests," in which we charge customers a flat fee for finding a particular product, like a rare 90s Chanel bag.

Usually, one of the 38 stores can fulfill the order, and if we can't, the fee is refunded.

AI has both dropped and raised barriers

I've always wanted to start my own business, but this was the first time I was hit with inspiration, and I could actually execute it. I don't know if I would've done it if I'd known I'd have to hire engineers and other staff, because I would've had to raise money.

So AI has definitely dropped the barrier to entry.

The biggest barrier used to be engineering, but now it's getting people to hear about your brand and then convert and buy, which is why my first hire is going to be a CMO.

I'm thinking of how to raise money so that I can add to my head count. I'm focusing on growing and getting more people to help me out so that I can grow exponentially faster.

After graduation, I'm supposed to work in consulting — I've got a return offer, and the role doesn't start until September.

I'm planning to accept it and see how this business grows on the side. If I can build it up enough, grow my head count, and automate it, I would love to do it alongside my corporate job.

Being a young founder has changed me. The other founders I've seen are super bold, confident, and courageous, and I feel like I've developed that side of myself, too.

• Tehmina Watson is an immigration lawyer who advises startup founders and businesses.
• Watson says there has been panic and confusion about the most recent immigration policy memo.
• She advises tech workers to get in contact with their lawyers now to address their visas.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Tahmina Watson, a business immigration lawyer in Seattle. It's been edited for length and clarity.

When I saw the administration's new immigration policy memo last Friday, stating that I-485 forms will only be approved in "extraordinary circumstances," I felt like the sky was falling.

The I-485 is the form used to apply for a green card (legal permanent residence) from inside the US. The last several days have been filled with fear, stress, and confusion, from people who don't know what this means for their status, and if they'll have to leave the country.

I'm the founding attorney of Watson Immigration Law. We specialize in business and family immigration. One of our areas of expertise is working with startup founders and businesses that are expanding into the United States, and many of my clients are tech workers.

It's hard to wrap my head around the enormity of this decision because the I-485 is used in almost every category of immigration to allow people to adjust their status from visa to green card.

This change will have a ripple effect on everyone. Laid-off tech workers are in a particularly difficult spot. My advice is to get in contact with your lawyer now and gather documentation.

Green cards will only be granted to those in 'extraordinary circumstances'

People can apply to adjust status to permanent residence from inside the US by filing Form I-485 with USCIS.

While the memo initially stated that I-485 forms will only be approved in extraordinary circumstances, a USCIS spokesperson clarified that those who bring economic benefits to the United States will be viewed favorably in their adjudication. However, there's no real policy guidance yet.

Typically, if somebody has arrived in the United States legally, they can adjust their status to that of a green card holder without leaving. The memo is essentially saying the intent of the law is that people get their applications filed outside the US, and that they're returning to the intent of the law.

The last 72 hours have been full of fear, stress, and confusion

Since Friday, my email has been blowing up with people asking, "What does it mean? What do we do?" The immigration lawyer community has been scrambling to figure out what this means as well, so Friday was very much about a lot of analyzing, discussing what we're going to do, and setting up calls with our clients.

So much is still uncertain. As the week unfolds, we might see more clarification from the administration. We may actually see litigation on the subject where the policy could actually be completely or partially enjoined. I sincerely hope that the courts will enjoin this policy.

I think a lot of my guidance to people will be dependent on what we hear from the administration in the coming days.

If you're on a work visa, start gathering documents that prove your economic benefits to the US

A lot of my clients work in tech, and the question that's been coming up since the memo release is what happens to people with work visas, such as H-1B.

On page five of the memo, it states that "maintaining lawful status in a dual intent non-immigrant category is not sufficient on its own to warrant a favorable exercise of discretion." To me, that means my clients need to file even more documentation to prove the economic benefit that they bring to the United States.

I'd advise people to get in contact with their lawyers and act urgently. For work visa holders, it will be important to sit down with their lawyers and figure out what kind of positive economic documents they can submit with their adjustment applications to prove the economic benefits they provide.

This policy will have a ripple effect on people and businesses

If a policy like this continues to go forward, families could be separated for years, likely because the consulates will not be able to shoulder the burden of the volume that will be required to adjudicate.

This means the people currently waiting will wait longer, and those who are being put into the system will exacerbate the system.

It will also mean that the businesses that invest in their workers are going to suffer because their workers will have to wait outside the country.

Laid-off tech workers are at risk

There are categories of people who never intended to be out of status, like folks who've been laid off from their tech jobs.

Laid-off workers have a 60-day grace period to find another employer to sponsor their visa or change their visa status to an interim visa, such as a tourist visa. However, it appears that the administration could be taking the perspective that those who apply for an interim visa have not maintained status.

If Big Tech companies are laying people off and not hiring, where are these people going to be able to get jobs to maintain their status? The ripple effects of this change are going to be felt everywhere.

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

• Zachary Biss moved from the Tampa Bay area to Lisbon seeking a new lifestyle.
• Biss chose to take a cruise instead of flying and was able to bring more items with him.
• Biss appreciates the slower pace of life in Portugal and anticipates saving more money on bills.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Zachary Biss, 29, a musician from St. Petersburg, Florida, who moved with his girlfriend, Marina, to Portugal by boat. The following has been edited for length and clarity.

I'm a full-time musician. Back in the States, I played gigs at bars and restaurants with my guitar, singing and playing covers for a living.

I've always had the same job in music, and over time, I was able to play all my gigs and have enough money at the end of the month to put away in savings and invest in stocks.

That allowed me to buy a house in Florida in 2019. I was really proud that I was able to make that happen.

Ever since I moved into the house, I've kept a budget down to the penny, and the expenses got absolutely insane.

My electric bill roughly doubled over the course of five years. My utilities, which covered water and garbage disposal, doubled as well.

You have all these people telling you homeownership is the goal — that's the dream — but the bills kept going up. I'm like, "This seems backward. I feel like I should be paying something off to where eventually I'll be paying less."

Over the course of half a decade, everything has crept up to where I'm working harder than I've ever worked, and making as much money as I've ever made, but I have nothing to show for it here.

We knew we wanted to move to Lisbon

I thought, maybe it's time to go somewhere else and try something different, because otherwise I'm just going to float here and not really thrive.

I haven't sold my home yet. It's still on the market.

My girlfriend and I already knew we wanted to move to Portugal for a while. So by the time we were able to finally move, I was like, "I don't care. We just have to go."

It was a little bit emotional, but not really because we'd been planning it for so long. I had gotten to the point where I didn't want to wait anymore.

We decided to move by taking a cruise

We found a cruise that was actually going directly one way, because they do the transatlantic sailings to move the boats. After the season's over in the Caribbean, they move to Europe, so we found one that was going from Tampa and ending in Lisbon. It was a match made in heaven.

We did pay a little bit more than flying, but you're getting a two-week cruise: all the food, all the lodging, and a couple of stops along the way.

We stopped in the Bahamas, and then after the Bahamas were six days at sea, and that was pretty wild. I've never spent that much time at sea.

After that was the Azores, and then it was another sea day because they're pretty far off from the mainland. Then we did Porto, which was really cool, and then we ended in Lisbon.

All in, we paid $2,500 total, so definitely more than two flights, but I would say it was worth the cost. The transatlantics are usually a bargain because they're not that full and they're just trying to sell tickets to make the voyage worth it — we actually got a balcony room and everything.

But the biggest perk was that there was no hard luggage limit. I brought my guitar, I brought my suitcases, Marina brought a bunch of her suitcases — as much as we could fit — and we got to the port and the porter's like, "How many luggage tags do you need?" And we said, "However many."

Flying would have been a lot more restrictive.

We also thought that sailing would ease us into moving a little more than flying would, because there's really nothing worse than landing at Lisbon Airport after an overnight flight, not sleeping on the plane, and dealing with that brutal jet lag.

On the cruise, there were six days at sea in a row, and they would roll forward the clock one hour at a time; they did that five times over the course of the trip to get us five hours ahead to where we are now.

I would totally recommend moving by boat for the luggage benefit alone, but especially if you're a cruiser or you just like relaxing, it's like being at the spa.

It's fun, and at the end of the day, I don't think many people get to say they've sailed across the ocean.

We like the pace of life in Portugal

The first night, we were sitting at the dinner table, and we looked at each other, and we both started crying, like, "What are we doing?" But I think that's 100% normal for anyone moving, even just moving to another state. It's scary. This is the first time I've moved.

There were things pushing us out of the US and things bringing us to Portugal. Honestly, the biggest one was health insurance.

As a self-employed person in the States, I often feel punished for being self-employed when it comes to health insurance. The cheapest plan offered to me on the marketplace for this year was about $360 a month.

When I talk to my friends who live here or have moved here, and I tell them what I paid in a month, they're like, "Well, that's about what I pay in a year."

Affordability wasn't the only reason we moved. If we were going for affordability, there are definitely cheaper places in Portugal, and even more affordable places in Europe. It's all relative; what's affordable to me might be different than what's affordable to a local here.

The people, in broad strokes, are in a little bit less of a rush here. I made a joke that even the people trying to sell you something off the street, once they realize you're not going to buy what they're selling, they'll just have a conversation with you, which is nice.

The pace of life is not so much work, work, work all the time, rush, rush, rush. People here really will take a moment — it's built into the day to have a coffee, have your pastry in the morning, and you're not just grabbing your big iced coffee and getting in your car and rushing to work.

It's a breath of fresh air.

This 'as-told-to' essay is based on a conversation with Juli Ford, a 57-year-old real estate agent and certified senior advisor based in Massachusetts. It has been edited for length and clarity.

When my children were young, we saw my parents all the time.

We lived very close to each other in South Plymouth, Massachusetts, and my parents always helped with the kids. From the time they were born, Wednesdays were Grammy and Grampy Day.

My dad got sick in 2005. When we learned in the summer of 2011 that he probably didn't have much time left, we talked about what life would be like after he was gone, including where my mom would live.

When he passed in December 2011, my mom was not ready to live with us. At 68, she had never lived on her own. She'd been with my dad since she was 15.

Then, in April 2015, a house in Pembroke, Massachusetts, about 30 minutes from South Plymouth, came on the market. The second I saw it online, I thought, "Oh, this is perfect."

The house had a beautiful in-law apartment

The house is 4,300 square feet, and the basement is about 800 square feet. Upstairs, there are three bedrooms and 3.5 bathrooms.

My mom fell in love with the home's basement apartment. It's full of beautiful natural light. It's one bedroom with a den, a full kitchen, a fireplace, its own laundry, 1.5 baths, its own outdoor patio, and two entrances.

We made an offer within two days. We bought the house in April 2015 for $630,000.

My mom had no interest in ownership. Instead, she made a financial contribution toward the down payment equal to what she would have paid in rent for the next five years.

She also gave us money every year for utilities. Last year, she started making a bigger monthly contribution to help cover household expenses. She essentially has not had to pay rent for 10 years, and as the house gets older, the cost of maintaining it grows.

It was a dream when we first moved in

My mom helped me a lot with my kids, especially with their schooling. My kids were 10 and 11 when she moved in, and they were homeschooled. We drove around a lot because we were going to museums and other activities in Boston. She sometimes helped with driving, and she became their English teacher because her first career was teaching English.

Grammy Wednesdays continued when we moved into the house, and my kids, who are 20 and 22 now, would go down and visit her on their own.

My mom has exceptionally good boundaries. I'm sure we did things differently than she would have done with our kids, but she's always been very good at keeping her opinions to herself.

My mom is still independent, but needs our help now

At 82, she's a bit less independent than she was 10 years ago because of health issues. Still, she has privacy: I don't know everything that she does all the time, and we can go days without seeing each other. Other times, we see each other a lot more often.

We have had a few medical emergencies with my mom, so I got in the habit of keeping my phone next to my bed. There have been a few times that she's had to call me.

I cannot imagine how much harder it would be to be a daughter of an aging mom if we weren't in the same house. I would be so much more concerned about her being alone and getting lonelier. It would be more time-consuming for me if I had to go somewhere else to support her.

The house gave us other financial benefits

In the beginning, the only financial benefit I really thought about of combining households was that we could get a nicer house than my husband and I could afford on our own.

Around the time we got this house, my brother's family went through a foreclosure after his wife had been hit by a drunken driver and had a traumatic brain injury. They had a lot of housing instability during that time because she was unable to work and had massive medical bills. They were not sure where they were going to live.

Because we combined households with my mom, we were able to tap into the equity in this house to help them. We took out a home equity loan and bought a small, lovely house, and rented it to them. We weren't really making any money on it, but the rent was paying the bills.

Within two years, they recovered their credit enough that they purchased the house from us. They were able to rebuild their financial well-being in that house.

We used the proceeds from the sale to buy a vacation property in Vermont, which we turned into an Airbnb for four years. When we sold it, we paid off our kids' student loans.

We were all able to build wealth because we combined households with my mom. We feel so proud and grateful. It's not something I saw coming 11 years ago.

I see multigenerational living as one of the most compelling solutions to our elder care and affordable housing crises. Bringing families together around this is really an underutilized solution.

• 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.

• Michaeleen Doucleff, author of "Dopamine Kids," wanted to wean her daughter off screens.
• She said the key was to replace screens with activities that genuinely motivated and excited her daughter.
• She also cut back on buying ultra-processed foods by having her daughter bake cookies from scratch.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Michaeleen Doucleff, the author of "Hunt, Gather, Parent" and "Dopamine Kids," released on March 3. This story has been edited for length and clarity.

Around the time my daughter, Rosy, was 4, we went to the beach. It was a really beautiful, sunny day, and I realized I couldn't enjoy it. She was having a great time building a sandcastle; I was sitting there checking my email, texts, and social media.

I felt this little hum of anxiety. Was she going to grow up without me being able to enjoy our lives together?

I started examining my own relationship to dopamine, the brain systems involved in reward and motivation, whether it is related to screens or ultra-processed foods. I realized that for me, these products were reclaiming the pleasure in our lives.

My life started to change when I set limits on screen time and processed snacks, swapping them for other activities and whole foods.

Then I wanted to help Rosy, who was 8 at the time.

I learned that a lot of the advice out there didn't work for me because it was based on research from 20 to 40 years ago. I kept trying things that I would read in parenting books, like "let children be bored." If I told Rosy to go to her room and play without screens, I'd just create a struggle. She'd crave screen time even more.

The truth is, parents are up against a lot. Apps, games, and ultra-processed foods are designed to keep us coming back. Research suggests that if parents don't have a clear mission for their families, it's much harder to keep impulses under control.

Luckily, research also suggests ways to change your child's relationship with screens. Here's how I got my daughter to swap them for activities that she enjoys.

I made a 'family dream list' to guide us

The first step is about taking back the wheel. That came with deciding what I wanted for my family. What was my dream?

Exploration is a fundamental need for my child, and I didn't want her to fulfill it with video games and social media. Instead, I wanted Rosy to enjoy being outside with her friends and going on adventures.

So one day, I said, "I'm going to teach you to do something you've been dying to do," which was riding a bike by herself to the market. We spent a few nights biking around everywhere until she felt comfortable on her own. Instead of watching YouTube videos of cartoon characters biking around, she could now do it herself.

Now that she's 10, biking is one of Rosy's favorite activities. She bikes to piano lessons and soccer practice. Sometimes, on Saturdays, she'll spend six hours biking with her friends, then come home exhausted and happy.

Leaning into her natural motivation

Dopamine plays a key role in motivation; it makes us seek out things that feel rewarding. To compete with screens, it helps to ride the motivational wave.

Once, we were in the cookie aisle of the grocery store. Rosy started begging for cookies because foods like that light up the brain's reward system. Instead of saying no to the cookies, I wanted to cultivate her desire to create a new habit.

I said, "OK, you can have the cookies, but you're going to bake the cookies all by yourself." I'd help her get started, and she learned how to use the mixer and oven.

When she finished baking the cookies, she ate only one or two. She wanted to save the rest because they were so precious to her. To this day, she's an amazing baker. A couple of months ago, she made a whole lasagna for dinner.

It turned out to be a great swap we made, both for cutting down on store-bought snacks and on screen time.

Micro-celebrations kept her going

The internet uses micro-celebrations: The little "ding" when you send a message, the hearts, the emojis. They seem very simple, and like they're not doing anything, but they're triggering a tiny bit of pleasure in our brains. It's the superglue that keeps us attached.

As a parent, I wanted to give Rosy similar micro-celebrations. When Rosy and I were first starting to bike around the neighborhood, every now and then I'd say, "Wow, this is really fun. I love this. This feels so good." It's just about sprinkling in a little bit of excitement.

Another really powerful micro-celebration parents can use is having the kid present what they made to you, whether it's a drawing or a craft. It creates an emotional payoff for the child, making them feel like they've done something important. It'll make them want to keep doing it more and more.

I set a price for screen time

Products like TVs and tablets are what I call "dopamine magnets"; they're incredibly hard to resist. We can't rely on willpower alone. Instead, we need very clear, simple rules that never change.

Almost every Saturday afternoon, Rosy would ask to watch a movie. Finally, I agreed, but with one new rule: She had to write a two-page summary of the last movie she watched, and present it to me.

At first, I was blown away. She ran to go do it — she was really willing to work to get this movie. Still, after a few times, she stopped asking for Saturday movies. She decided they weren't worth the price.

By then, we had other activities to replace the movie. On top of riding her bike, she was making a lot of crafts — embroidering, crocheting, and paper quilling.

Creating screen-free environments

What many people don't realize is that the pull happens before you use the device. Usually, there's some cue in your environment, such as the sight of your phone or the places you typically use it.

For example, a child might associate getting into the car with playing games on a tablet. Instead, you can change that to another activity. We bought a CD player for Rosy so she could listen to audiobooks on drives. It forces her to wait and listen to the book again, instead of us immediately buying a new one.

Without changing cues, parents may have to fight to pull their kids off screens or to police what they eat.

By using these behavioral principles, you can set up routines that help kids rely less on willpower alone. Over time, those pathways stick.

• 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.

• Mathilde Turco was unhappy with the appearance of her skin at 34.
• She considered cosmetic surgery and decided on a mini-facelift.
• The New Yorker flew to Seoul for the procedure, which, she said, gave her the desired result.

This interview is based on a conversation with Mathilde Turco, 34, a content creator and sales professional for an electrical contracting company from Brooklyn, New York. It has been edited for length and clarity.

Four years ago, when I entered my 30s, I began to notice sagging on my face and a general loss of elasticity, making me appear older than I was.

It really bothered me, especially when I was making videos as a content creator or having on-camera meetings in my sales job.

I'd pull my skin taut when I looked in the mirror, and it became a habit. As a perfectionist, I became a little obsessed and started thinking of ways to make my skin look younger.

The surgeons recommended a mini-facelift

Initially, I tried treatments such as resurfacing lasers and fillers, but I was still very aware of fine lines, especially around my mouth.

In the summer and fall of 2025, I consulted some cosmetic surgeons in New York about facelift surgery, and none of them said I was too young for it.

Instead, they recommended a mini-facelift, which is far less invasive than the deep-plane one I originally thought I needed, to also tighten my jawline. This would have involved a deeper scar.

Still, I was on a tight budget, so I widened my search abroad. I had online consultations with clinics in Tunisia, Colombia, and my native France before deciding on a place in the Gangnam district of Seoul.

South Korea attracted my attention because its cosmetic surgery industry uses innovative, high-tech techniques. I liked the natural look of the results.

I told my fiancé about my plans, but didn't tell too many other friends or family. I thought they'd be scared or tell me to wait until I'm older, but it's a very personal decision.

I'm a grown woman who can make up my own mind. I didn't want to worry them for no reason.

My girlfriend and I flew to Seoul a week before the surgery on February 9, 2026, and stayed for a total of a month.

I needed painkillers

One surgeon performed the mini-facelift — including an endoscopic forehead lift — and another doctor did my breast implants at the same time. The operation lasted around seven hours.

I woke up with some discomfort, but it was manageable with painkillers. There was a minimal incision around the hairline, and it started healing pretty quickly.

I was very careful and only ventured outside when the medical team said it was OK. Once the swelling and bruising had receded, I was able to go sightseeing with my friend again.

Back in New York City, I've been taking things easy as I fully recover. My eyebrows are still high, but they're settling back into place as each day and week go by.

The surgeon told me it would probably take up to six months for all the sensations in your temple area to return.

It's boosted my confidence

I did this for myself, and it's obviously not about him, but my fiancé seems to have appreciated the results. He's pleased that I'm pleased.

I look at my reflection and am so glad I went ahead with the procedure. I don't see those smile lines as much. It's given me a lot more confidence.

Some people have said, "Oh, you don't look that much different," which is fine by me. I want it to look as natural and as subtle as possible.

• 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.

• 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.

• Allison Sheehan ran a baking business while working in private wealth at Goldman Sachs.
• She left Goldman after she said the firm told her she couldn't keep her online brand.
• Now, she's using her Wall Street skills, like capital allocation, to scale her cake business.

This as-told-to is based on a conversation with Allison Sheehan, 26, a former analyst for private wealth at Goldman Sachs and student at Northwestern's Kellogg School of Management, where she's building her baking brand, Alleycat. Business Insider has verified her roles at Goldman and her current school enrollment. The interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Baking cakes started out as a college hobby — I'd make them for my sorority sisters and, once word got out, the broader Dallas community. When I landed a job in operations at Goldman Sachs in Utah, I stopped baking entirely, though I still longed to build up my cake empire. I had no family, no friends, no nothing in Utah, and was focused on getting transferred to New York.

I eventually got a job in the wealth management unit in New York. It was a part operational, since I was opening accounts and managing money, but also client-facing, which I loved.

As soon as I got to New York, I restarted my baking social media accounts, which had around 500 followers at the time, and announced that I was back in business. Orders picked up, but I didn't have time for all of them, so I capped it at three cakes a week, creating a scarcity model. I sold out weekly for about 6 months before expanding to up to 10 cakes.

That's when I started struggling to fit everything in, but I was getting good traction, making cakes for companies and fashion houses, like Goop. A typical day meant waking up at 5 am to frost a cake, going to the gym, going to work, baking a cake, going to dinner with friends, and going to sleep. I spent all my spare moments invoicing clients or editing videos. In 2023, my friend's boyfriend said I should post under the handle "investment__baker," but I was careful not to mention anything about where I worked or my exact job.

I learned valuable skills at Goldman

Goldman's high-stakes hustle culture has helped me build the brand — I had to be responsive, communicative, and accurate, all skills I use now. I always quickly consolidate my notes and immediately flag any concerns to product developers or suppliers. On the communication front, I'm able to connect people across the supply chain, from technical food scientists to more creative-minded brand designers. And when it comes to accuracy, I'm precise about costs, even on volatile products like cocoa, and margins.

In wealth management, I learned a lot about capital allocation, helping clients balance their portfolios and plan for expenses. But I learned just as much from my own failures.

After I started taking on more orders, I rented a commercial kitchen on the Lower East Side to bake and teach workshops. It solved logistical problems but drained my bank account. Every penny I made from baking went toward rent, and I eventually had to return to my apartment. That was definitely not a good capital allocation strategy, since it almost left me broke.

Goldman gave me an ultimatum

At that point, I knew I needed to go all in on my business and decided to apply to business school. Studying for the GRE while working and running the business was unsustainable.

My health deteriorated, and I broke down at work, having a panic attack and sobbing to my very understanding VP. I went home to Wisconsin for two weeks, shut down all of my social media accounts, and brought my brand to an awful, screeching halt.

Six months later, I reopened the account, with 2,000 fewer followers and almost no DMs. The momentum came back quickly, though, until, boom: Goldman's compliance team called me in and asked me to delete all of my content or leave the firm. They said the word "investment" on my social handles alluded to my job, and I had to delete everything. After finishing my business school interviews a few months later, I un-archived all of the content, got called in again, and quit.

I couldn't waste the five years of time and energy I'd poured into this business.

Goldman is still helping me now

I've scaled back my custom cake business and am focused on building my consumer packaged goods products: dry cake mixes and frosting, like the kind you can scoop out of the jar. I've finished the formulation, secured suppliers, and gotten my nutritional label approved, but I'm still struggling to find a manufacturer.

Small brands have to convince manufacturers they're a worthwhile investment. From their perspective, why spend time onboarding a tiny Instagram baker who could easily fail?

That's where Goldman has come in. Beyond knowing how to build a nice deck and balance a budget, my background at such a prestigious firm lends me credibility. It comes up in conversations, and I'll include it in presentations, since I'm proud to have worked there. The firm is relevant to my online brand, too, since I still post as the investment baker and share investing advice.

I'm making a fraction of my Goldman salary, but I'm fundamentally a creative person. I couldn't spend my life behind a desk. When I started, my goal was to make a cake for a celebrity, which I've done multiple times, including for Brooke Shields. Now, I want to bring home baking back — and revolutionize the grocery aisles.

• 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.

• British billionaire John Caudwell has eight children, ranging in age from 2 to 47.
• From flying coach to wearing Zara, he's intent on raising grounded and hardworking kids.
• Here's Caudwell's approach to parenting — and his biggest piece of advice.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with John Caudwell, the British billionaire founder of mobile phone businesses Phones 4u and Singlepoint, both of which he sold. Caudwell is raising three children with his partner, former Olympian Modesta Vžesniauskaitė, and now focuses on his childrens' charities and real estate investing. The following has been edited for length and clarity.

My family life is very dynamic. I have eight children, one of whom I'm the stepfather to. My youngest kids are 2 and 5 years old, and my oldest is 47.

I grew up in a little terraced house in the middle of Stoke-on-Trent, and I had next to nothing. I don't want my kids to have next to nothing, but I don't want to overcorrect the way that some rich people do.

For my older kids, when I was building my businesses, there was less time on a day-to-day basis, but it was quality time. I've always made quality time an absolute priority: almost never missing a sports day or prize-giving, things that were important.

Now, we do most of the parenting and don't have nannies. I have two housekeepers who help out, but school is the real answer, from 9 a.m. until 4 p.m. That gives them discipline, entertainment, interest, and education.

Flying economy and shopping at Primark

Everybody wants to be spoiled, but it's very important that we keep our kids' feet on the ground, so we are very controlled about how we approach luxury.

For instance, when we go on the superyacht for a family holiday, that's mainly a treat for me. The adult children have to make their own way to the boat. The younger ones travel in economy with Modesta — I'll take business class most of the time — and we take the budget airline easyJet. We have to demonstrate to them what normal life is like.

They have virtually no designer clothes — maybe some that they got as presents, but we buy them clothes from Zara and Primark. If you go to Gucci and pay a thousand pounds, are the kids any happier? No, they're not. Do they end up having a very spoiled attitude? Yeah, they probably do.

When we take them to a restaurant, they'll have chicken nuggets and chips, and the younger ones share a plate. I hate wasting food. I always remember, when one of my daughters was young, we went to a restaurant, and she asked, "Daddy, would you really mind on this occasion if I had steak and chips?" You see kids out there just ordering lobster, and my kids would never dream of it.

When it comes to spoiling, one early mistake we made was buying them too much at Christmas. Not expensive gifts, but too many of them. They'd scramble through all the boxes and end up playing with a cardboard box. Now, we take a much more frugal approach; two or three Christmas presents are more than enough.

Our financial support is a very frugal help line that encourages them to achieve their own success. It supports them while they're in school so they can focus on being good students. It doesn't pay for them to go out to nightclubs or have expensive meals. My support is very much related to the effort they put into their lives.

My adult children are all busy making their own careers. One of my daughters is a psychotherapist, one works in real estate, and another works at a bank. One of my sons is a musician, writing and producing songs, and another is getting his real estate license.

The golden rule

The one thing I always do is that no matter what happens in your child's life, you're constantly telling them you love them.

No matter how much I have to punish them, it's always followed by, "Well, of course, I love you, darling. I love you very much, but I have to discipline you because you have to grow up to be meaningful, good people."

That's been consistent: I don't really want anything from them in life other than for them to be happy and leave the world a better place than they found it.

What does it matter if they're rich, if they're unhappy? What does it matter if they're an Olympian, if they're unhappy?

If every kid could grow up to aspire to those goals, which of course is very difficult to achieve, what a wonderful life for our children, but also what a wonderful place for the world to be.

• Srdjan Stakic vibe-coded a security camera system for his parents to ensure their safety.
• Stakic used vibe-coding platform Lovable to get started, as well as popular AI chatbots.
• His vibe-coded software became the basis for his AI-assisted startup Alvis.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Srdjan Stakic, 49, a former film producer who vibe-coded an AI system to monitor his elderly parents and detect falls. He's now launching a company that aims to offer the technology to others. This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

When I was diagnosed with stage four cancer two years ago, AI became essential.

Everything was happening so quickly: The doctors would talk to me for 15 minutes and leave me with more questions than answers. AI gave me an objective way to document and make sense of what was happening.

I'm now in remission. As my health improved, my parents' health declined, and I began helping them with cooking, cleaning, and medical appointments.

English was not their first language, and communicating with healthcare providers was tough. I recorded our conversations with their doctors and compared them to the after-visit summary using AI. I would put together all this information and translate it into Serbian for them.

But I soon wanted more than what the chatbots could offer. I wanted a system that could observe what was happening with my parents, or any other patient, and assess it through the lens of safety and dignity. I would think of how much guilt I'd feel if something happened and I wasn't there. What kind of son would I be?

I had never coded before, and I didn't have millions for an initial investment

I don't have a background in coding. I have a doctorate in health education and a master's in film production, and I have produced some films of my own.

I started outlining my idea with Gemini and ChatGPT to examine it from a tech and ethical standpoint. I built this document of what I wanted to achieve. I kept asking my family how they wanted to be treated in each scenario — like a fall or medical emergency — and I wanted to make the system flexible.

Then I transferred to Lovable. Lovable gave me a live development environment where I could describe what I wanted, see it built in real time, test it, and iterate. It connected the pieces, the frontend, the backend, the database, the authentication, the integrations, things I did not even know I needed until they were there. The chatbots helped me plan. Lovable helped me build.

I uploaded hundreds of training videos for nurses and healthcare providers to train the AI. I created a high-fidelity validation pipeline and a labeled dataset. I labeled real-world caregiving footage with established clinical benchmarks, like Stanford's C-I-CARE framework. When you approach a patient and introduce yourself, you tell them why they're there, you ask the patient's name and pronouns, and you introduce what you're about to do. You explain next steps and see if they have any questions or concerns.

I also started building an AI equipped with cameras to identify falls. I would fall in the middle of my living room and see whether the system recognized that and how long it would take.

It took me a few months to make it work

I tried different cameras and protocols, but ultimately, I had to hire an IT company to help me connect multiple cameras. The system can now identify a fall and send notifications to loved ones or EMS, and provide their location with a brief summary of their health records. The system also analyzes interactions between caregivers and my parents. It's sophisticated enough to analyze in real time — based on audio and video — if a caregiver is being rude or unprofessional. My parents have felt safer since I built this. I also built a feature that scans their environment for any trip hazards, such as cables.

I don't want to spy on my family, so I don't actively review all the video footage. When a concern is flagged, the system clips approximately 30 seconds around that moment and notifies mewith a summary of what it observed and why. It can also generate an advocacy letter from that same analysis: what was said, what was done, and how the interaction compares to the C-I-CARE framework to evaluate caregiver conduct.

I launched a company to offer this tech to others

This all started as an idea for my family, but the more I talk about it, the more people tell me they wish they had this for their parents. So I decided to launch a startup, called Alvis, to make this system available to others.

It detects falls in real time, recognizes when a caregiver goes above and beyond, and generates advocacy letters when something goes wrong. It's in private beta and accepting waitlist applications for our pilot cohort, launching April 13. The model will be a monthly subscription, similar to what families already pay for camera cloud storage, with a premium tier for AI-assisted analytics.

This week, my mom was hospitalized, and I used AI in four ways

First, I used it as a real-time medical interpreter: Every lab result went straight into Claude, so I understood what was happening immediately, not the next morning when a doctor was free.

AI was also my clinical advocate. When a history and physical exam understated her cancer history, Claude caught it. When her glucose started climbing from steroids, Claude flagged it.

Third, I used AI to translate updates into patient-friendly language in both English and Serbian.

Finally, Alvis — the camera system I designed — was running live in her hospital room all night, with her permission and a nod from her care team. It picked up her saying in Serbian, quietly, that she had endured too much. It flagged when I visited, and we recorded ourselves together.

It's amazing to see how vibe coding is democratizing access to AI tools. You can build a company that helps a very niche group that needs a specific thing. I still don't fully understand code or the extent of what I built, but it seems to be working.

• 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

• 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.

• 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.

• 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.

• Dani Aravich is a 29-year-old Paralympian who grew up playing sports.
• After college, Dani was introduced to the possibility of competing in the Paralympics.
• She now competes for Team USA in the Paralympic Games in track and field and cross-country skiing.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation Dani Aravich, Paralympian and cofounder of Culxtured. It has been edited for length and clarity.

I grew up in Boise, Idaho, playing all the typical sports — soccer, basketball, softball — and eventually got recruited to a Division I school to compete in track and field.

After college, I worked for an NBA team. And while working there, I learned about the Paralympics for the very first time. It had never really been on my family's radar growing up, so it never felt like an option for me as a kid.

Learning about the Paralympics also meant being introduced to the disability community in a way I never had before. I hadn't grown up around many people with disabilities, and suddenly I was meeting all these athletes who, like me, had disabilities and were fiercely competitive in sport.

It was a little overwhelming at first, but also really exciting.

I started thinking about the Paralympic Games

I started diving into everything I could find about the Paralympics and eventually learned that I actually qualified for a classification.

That's when the dream began to form. Maybe I could make the Trials for the Tokyo 2020 Paralympic Games.

In 2019, I started running again, mostly training on my own while working full-time. I went to my first para track meet that year and met other women who were missing a hand or had arm impairments like mine. For the first time, it felt like I might truly be competing on an even playing field.

But that same day, I nearly walked away from it all.

I was running well until I fell on the track with 10 meters left in the race. I remember thinking maybe that was my sign to quit and go back to the traditional career path I had been on.

My mom — who had actually been hesitant about me stepping away from my business career in the first place — was the one who told me I had already put months of work into this goal. I owed it to myself to at least see it through and not let one fall end the dream.

So I kept going.

I decided to focus on Nordic skiing

Not long after that, I was invited to try Para cross-country skiing at a camp. I had downhill skied before, but cross-country skiing is a completely different sport.

In 2021, I competed in the T47 women's 400m at the Tokyo Paralympic Games (which were delayed a year because of COVID). Just six months later, I competed again at the Beijing 2022 Paralympic Winter Games.

After that, I made the decision to step away from track and focus fully on Nordic skiing, leading into the 2026 Paralympic Winter Games in Italy.

And here I am now.

The dream of becoming a Paralympian came much later in life for me than it does for a lot of athletes. Mostly because I didn't even know it existed growing up. I had never seen it in the media, never heard about it as a possibility.

This year, I've been in Europe since early January, first for the World Cup season, now the Paralympics.

One of the things that's made these Paralympics especially meaningful is being able to invite friends and family to come watch in person. Four years ago, that wasn't possible because of Covid restrictions.

I love seeing kids watch us race

For Nordic skiing, we're based in a tiny town in Italy, which is pretty remote from some of the other venues. But the town has completely embraced the Games. One of my favorite moments has been watching local school kids come out to watch us race.

And it really does feel like the Paralympics are growing.

More people are watching. The media is paying attention to the drama and intensity of the competition. Online engagement is growing. It finally feels like the world is starting to see these athletes the way we've always known them to be — elite.

Once people watch the Paralympics, they realize the competition is just as intense as the Olympics. And once they see that, they're hooked.

More broadly, I think society is shifting in a really positive direction when it comes to diversity and inclusion. Humanizing disability and making it something we talk about openly — rather than something hidden away — is incredibly important.

Not just for the Paralympics. But for society as a whole.

• Winston Hall works out seven days a week and spends up to five hours a day outside on his bike.
• The 77-year-old has been super-fit since he was drafted into the US Army during the Vietnam War.
• He wants other seniors to follow his lead by gradually increasing their movement.

This interview is based on a conversation with Rena Clare, 67, a retired professional photographer from Omaha, Nebraska. It has been edited for length and clarity.

I wasn't particularly sporty in high school. Golf was just about it. The whole idea of fitness or having a healthy lifestyle wasn't much of a concept.

Then, in 1969, I was drafted into the US Army, assigned to the First Cavalry Division, and completed basic training before being deployed to Vietnam.

I enjoyed running

In basic training, you had to run three miles before breakfast. Then, during the day, you were always on your feet.

I found that I really enjoyed running and looked forward to doing it. It made me feel more energetic. But I hadn't really connected the dots when it came to food. I ate a standard American diet, including red meat and potatoes.

After three years in the military, I returned to my college studies before becoming a full-time professional photographer. My workplace was nine miles from home, and I'd usually cycle there. I found it fun.

Meanwhile, my father was having severe health issues, and I didn't want to go through the same thing. I started thinking more about the role of diet and stopped having meat altogether.

Still, midway through my career in the late 80s, I realized I was getting out of shape. My job took me around the world, and I stayed in hotels where it was hard to choose what to eat.

I became more focused through exercise

I knew I felt better and more focused after exercising, so I'd use the hotel gym. If it didn't have one and I couldn't get outside, I'd run around the parking garage.

It could be 8 p.m. or later, and the security guards would stop me and ask what I was doing.

Movement became a regular part of my life. I ran or biked as much as I could to expend any pent-up energy. After a while, I started doing more endurance cycling and running in biathlons.

One of the best things I've done is go on bikepacking trips. They're exhilarating, like an adventure. I have a small, lightweight tent which I keep in a pannier. It compacts nicely until you set up camp for the night.

I have a household gym

Last summer, I went to Colorado and would ride from the campground every day to visit new places. I also bicycle a lot in my home state of Nebraska, as well as Minnesota, Iowa, and Kansas.

Back home, I have a gym on the lower level of my house, where I work out seven days a week. Also, when the weather is good, I can spend up to five hours outside on my bike, particularly along gravel trails on disused railway tracks.

I weight train three days a week before moving to the treadmill or stationary bike. On the other four days, I do isometric-type exercises and core work.

I adopted a whole-food, plant-based diet — part vegetarian, part vegan — and enjoy cooking for my wife, Sharon, and me. Typically, I'll have two meals a day.

Breakfast is usually between 10 and 11 a.m., consisting of oatmeal with chia and hemp seeds, soy milk, and fresh fruit.

Society can ignore people my age

I don't snack in the afternoon. Then, around 5:30 p.m., I'll either prepare a salad with beans for protein or a dish like rice and beans. I like to finish eating at least three hours before going to bed.

Recently, I was thrilled to learn that Senior Planet, an AARP initiative, appointed me as one of its 2026 Sponsored Athletes, working to redefine what it means to stay active in later life.

Society has somehow bought into the idea that, once we reach retirement, we're irrelevant, disappear, and no longer contribute.

And many people my age let themselves go, thinking it's the beginning of a decline.

Firstly, I don't believe that's true, and it's a great opportunity to make the most of the time you have on your hands. Secondly, I want to inspire and motivate older people to get out and about and find adventures.

You don't have to start big. It's good to increase your movement gradually. Please believe me when I say it's never too late to get healthy — and feel more alive — through diet and exercise.