• Rick Nott has used AI to save himself a lot of tedious work as a wealth advisor.
• He said new AI products may help other advisors save time too, but they won't replace humans.
• Nott spoke to Business Insider about how he uses the technology to save him time now.

Rick Nott is a senior managing director and private wealth advisor at Santa Monica, California-based Angeles Wealth Management. He spoke to Business Insider about how he uses AI, and why he's excited and afraid when looking at AI-native financial planning platforms. The conversation has been edited for length and clarity.

When Claude first rolled out its solution for financial advisors, I felt fear and excitement. How complicated will it be? How will it work?

I'm not a software developer, but I have some basic tech skills. LLMs have allowed me to dig into coding, which I'd been avoiding learning because it's a lot of work. I know enough to know what I want, how it should look, and how to check the outputs, and now I can automate more of my process. AI has become the glue between the various systems we use and the different workflows we have.

I've shown some colleagues how I operate. One told me that I basically have another full-time employee's worth of output through the technology, by automating data collection processes and making it easier to analyze my clients' portfolios.

What AI unlocks

I started my career while still in college in the late 2000s doing data reporting work for a wealth firm. Between all of the software advisors use, there's a lot of manual work, typically done in Excel, to connect it together.

Previously, I could only provide balance sheet reporting for clients with more than $100 million because it took so much manual work. Now I can do it with someone with significantly less.

As a family's net worth grows, so does complexity. For many, understanding their overall financial system is their biggest pain point.

Banks and brokerage accounts are the easy part, but trusts, business ownership structures, and private investments, which all report differently and require cash on hand to make capital calls, can take huge amounts of manual work to analyze.

Imagine a wealth advisory business serving 30 families, each holding about 10 private investments. Each investment generates about 10 documents a year, including quarterly reports, capital calls, distribution notices, and tax documents. Each of these 3,000 documents takes a skilled analyst 15 to 30 minutes to analyze and distill into our reports.

That's 750 to 1,500 hours a year, most of it crammed into the few weeks after each quarter closes. With AI, that data is extracted and mapped as it arrives, and one analyst reviews the work instead of a team racing against a deadline.

Our goal is to create a one-page document or report on their phone that's as close to real-time as possible.

There's a lot you can do with all of your data in one place. For example, a two- or three-sentence prompt could expand into a full email to a client, with all relevant and accurate information already populated. You can then personalize that to fit the right tone for your client.

How AI changes the job

AI tools like Claude for financial advisors will be disruptive, and others will gain access to the same connectivity I've built.

I think of it as part of a dynamic that's been going on for years in my industry. Vanguard, ETFs, lower costs, and robo-advisors have all put a squeeze on financial advisors.

But if you believe a lawyer's only job is writing contracts, or a financial advisor's only job is putting together a portfolio, there's a fundamental kind of misunderstanding of what the actual job is.

As long as investing involves human judgment, financial advisors will have a job. AI doesn't improve investment decisions or results.

I tell my clients that my role is to be the architect of their financial operating system, and, as with an actual operating system, a centralized source of data is essential.

When you have a big-picture view of what your family's mission is, you can avoid getting distracted by market noise and news. From there, you can go a layer down to make strategic plans and ask if we're moving in the right direction, and what opportunities we may have. Another layer down, we work with a CPA to save money on taxes.

A full picture of a balance sheet makes it possible to actually know what liquidity you have available. Now I can spend more time developing relationships, the thing that runs our business. I get to know anything and everything about the clients I'm working with and those I'd like to work with.

The future of financial advisors and AI

I have a natural excitement around tech, and watching the Anthropic webinar was incredible. My main concern is that it's not a subscription-based plan; it's token-based, which could lead to surprise bills for users who don't yet know how to manage their token usage.

At small RIAs without the expertise, people will be uploading 100-page PDF documents just to ask basic questions, like the ages of kids in a trust. That will rip through tokens.

We priced it out internally, and we would have to pay significantly more for a token-based plan instead of the subscription-based licenses we have now. Maybe eventually everyone will have to pay for tokens that way, and the cost of tokens is going down.

We learn to do things faster and at lower cost, but in this industry, we do that for a particular reason: to spend more time with the people we serve.

The primary way that our clients give us information is still by talking. There's a significant amount of nuance. You may be able to understand something and infer what's really being said. But note-taking software is still wrong all the time. You have to review it.

Money is emotional, and I seriously question whether AI can replace our need to connect with another human being.

Do I see someone sitting across the table from AI on a speakerphone? Probably not.

• Kate McNeil opened All the Tropes, a romance bookstore, six weeks after quitting her job.
• Despite concerns about market saturation, All the Tropes thrives as a niche community destination.
• Passion, perseverance, and local support helped McNeil launch her business.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Kate McNeil, a 41-year-old small-business owner based in Atlanta. It's been edited for length and clarity.

The idea to open a romance bookstore started during COVID.

I joined an online group of fellow romantasy readers, looking to connect with other people who also enjoyed my favorite form of escapism. That group had over 2,000 members, and it was difficult to feel a sense of community. Eventually, it broke off into local chapters.

After COVID, I didn't know of any dedicated space for these same readers to meet in Atlanta. That's how I started the journey to opening the first romance bookstore in my neighborhood. In the two years since I opened, more romance bookstores have opened up, including one less than two miles away.

I thought I'd retire from my teaching job

When I launched All the Tropes bookstore, I was working a job I thought I'd retire from. I taught theater at Decatur High School for six years. My students always came first. I didn't want those kids to feel like I wasn't present or that they didn't have my undivided attention, so the bookstore was a back-burner idea for a few years.

I'd get home from rehearsal at 11 p.m., conduct business research until 2 a.m., then get up at 6 a.m. and go to work the next day and teach.

I took my time to gain a full understanding of the market, but there were still challenges

I learned about dealing with publishing companies and book distributors, connected with local artists to showcase their work, and reached out to local authors. One of the biggest challenges was finding a place for the store.

I knew that I wanted to stay on the east side of Atlanta because I lived in Kirkwood and felt very connected to the community.

In 2024, I found a location a four-minute walk from my home, and I knew it was time to make my idea a reality. In May of that year, I quit my teaching job and prepared to open the bookstore by the end of summer on Romance Bookstore Day.

I had 6 weeks to get the store ready for opening day

I received the keys to the bookstore six weeks before the day I planned to open. The timeline I had for opening day came with a lot of risks. I had cashed in my retirement fund, quit my job, and had a large preorder of "Onyx Storm" before there were bookshelves in the store.

There were many times my friends and I didn't leave the store until 4 a.m. A local artist painted the shop; I printed my merchandise at a local shop in Kirkwood; and I created the fabric wall. There were many nights I had doubts that All the Tropes would come to fruition.

I was a mom with two young kids opening a niche business that, to my knowledge, would be the first in the state, but I was prepared. I had my accounts with publishers, and my branding was complete. Perseverance, my husband, my village of friends, and an invested community got me to opening day.

All the Tropes opened August 17, 2024, on Romance Bookstore Day. In the span of a few months, I went from a passionate high school teacher to the owner and operator of a romance bookstore.

An increase in niche romance bookstores in the city concerns me

Even in a city like Atlanta with several thriving independent bookstores, I wonder about the percentage of residents who read for fun and, more specifically, read romance. While becoming a general indie bookstore would allow me to sell so many other things, I still believe All the Tropes can continue to thrive in a niche market, despite oversaturation.

Unlike a large book retailer, All the Tropes is a destination spot people can come from out of town to visit. Our social presence and promotion of local writers and artists also offer something unique to readers.

All the Tropes could pivot to general fiction, but so far, more stores opening has not impacted store traffic or sales.

4 Things helped me turn my business idea into a reality

All the Tropes continues to thrive because of my original vision of creating a community space for romance book lovers to connect. We now have eight active book clubs and continue to see consistent revenue.

Passion, trusting my gut, therapy, and a supportive group of friends are the reason I was able to turn an idea I brainstormed late at night into a successful niche business ready to grow.

We are now ready for a larger space and to expand our three-person team.

Do you have a unique small business story to share? Email the editor, Manseen Logan, at mlogan@businessinsider.com.

• Nikita Chernetskii moved to New York City from rural Moldova when he was 18.
• He joined the Army and worked as a combat medic, which gave him a sense of purpose.
• He was worried about affording med school and starting a family.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Nikita Chernetskii, a medical school student at New York University's Grossman School of Medicine. It has been edited for length and clarity.

I've wanted to be a doctor since I was a little boy. In Moldova, where I was born and raised, you apply to medical school right after finishing high school. As I was applying for medical schools, my parents won the green card lottery, giving our family the chance to come to the US.

Suddenly, I had a huge choice in front of me. Do I take the chance to go to the US, or keep pursuing my dream? I'd always been raised on the idea that the American dream was alive and well. I was also young and naive: I thought I could just apply to medical school once I got there.

I'll never forget landing at JFK in August with my parents and sister, who was in fourth grade at the time. I'd never seen a building taller than nine stories, and suddenly I was looking at the Manhattan skyline. It was surreal. I can still remember the smell as we left the airport, of hot asphalt and summer in the city.

I felt like I was in limbo, seeing my friends chase their dreams

Living in the US was a shock, to put it mildly. New York was so, so different from the rural area of Moldova where we'd lived. I'd gone to an English-speaking high school, but it was set up according to old Soviet standards. Once I was in the US, I realized that I'd been taught English for people who would never speak English: my grammar was excellent, but my vocabulary was very limited.

I knew life wouldn't wait for my dreams. My dad and I started working as porters, making about $500 a week. Part of the job was taking out the trash to the dumpster, but I was pretty happy doing that. The pay was more than I would ever make in Moldova.

I realized that going to med school in the US wasn't realistic. I didn't have the money and didn't understand how college worked here. That sent me into a period of limbo. I would work and save money just to go visit friends in Moldova. I saw them moving toward their goals, while my life stayed the same. Psychologically, it wasn't the greatest time for me.

Joining the military reaffirmed my desire to be a paramedic

On one of those trips home, a friend suggested I join the military. Within a month, I was marching in basic training. My poor English meant I couldn't always understand the directions. I just ran where the other recruits ran, and hoped it was right.

I scored well enough on my aptitude test to become a medic. The work was so fulfilling to me, and helped me cope with the rushed decision to join the military in what was still a foreign country to me.

I was deployed in Germany when the pandemic hit. I'd work 24-hour shifts, sleep for four hours, and get back to it. That's when others started telling me I should become a doctor. I realized that desire was still burning inside me, and I wouldn't be able to sleep well if I didn't at least try.

I leaned on every connection I had to help get into med school

I used the GI bill to pay for college. While I was there, I was accepted into the New York University internship program that pairs aspiring doctors with faculty. I worked with a trauma surgeon at Bellevue Hospital and knew I wanted to spend my life doing what he did.

When it came time for me to apply to medical schools, I knew I needed to be at NYU. I shook all the trees I could. I had no shame and asked anyone for help. The whole process was so stressful that it was almost a blur to me.

The idea of taking on half a million dollars in debt for medical school was frightening. I think I would have done it, but it would have meant delaying other goals, like having children with my wife.

This year, when I was accepted to NYU's Grossman School of Medicine's three-year, tuition-free medical program, it was surreal. When I dreamed of practicing medicine as a boy, I thought I'd be making $300 a month doing old Soviet techniques. Now, I'm learning cutting-edge science that feels like it's plucked from a sci-fi movie. I'm the happiest I've ever been in my life, and I'm well on my way to my American dream.

• Matthew Kelson, now 43, grew up in Michigan and opened his first cinema in his 20s.
• He went on to work for Netflix in Los Angeles before getting transferred to Japan in 2020.
• After leaving his job at Netflix in 2024, he renovated a kindergarten and founded a cinema in Japan.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Matthew Kelson, now 43, who was transferred by Netflix from Los Angeles to Tokyo and is now the founder of CineYama, an independent cinema in Uenohara, Yamanashi Prefecture, Japan. His words have been edited for length and clarity.

Japan isn't new to me. In middle school, I spent two weeks living with a host family as part of an exchange program. I returned a couple of times as an adult.

I was working at Netflix in Los Angeles when the company relocated me to Japan in 2020. I was based in Tokyo for two years before moving to Uenohara, a small town about an hour and a half by train from Tokyo. I still spent time in the capital for occasional meetings and traveled extensively across Asia for screenings. Otherwise, I worked remotely from home. After a company restructuring, I left Netflix in 2024.

I wanted to stay in Japan. My daughter was six months old when my wife and I moved, and my son was born three years later. We thought it was a great place for them to grow up. I started thinking about how I could utilize my expertise in cinema and give back to the community.

While scouting for locations, I came across an abandoned kindergarten. In 2024, I started plans to turn the old school into a cinema. And in December, I got my permanent residency in Japan through the highly skilled professional fast-track program. A year later, I formed my company and spent another year renovating before opening a cinema in March.

Building my career in film

I spent most of my childhood in Michigan, in the Detroit area. My father was a professor of international business. He traveled for work often. It got me curious about the world around me.

At 23, I came across the Detroit Film Center and took a filmmaking course. A year later, I became a teacher and worked as a projectionist there. Through that, I started working at an independent art theater in the Detroit suburbs. I started as an usher, then became the theater manager.

Within the two years of working there, I fell in love with the film world. At 25, I renovated an old school's auditorium into a theater in Michigan using my savings. The theater ran for two years, but after disputes with the landlord, it closed.

I was looking for a fresh start, so in 2011, I moved to Los Angeles. At first, I knocked on the doors of all the film distributors I'd worked with until I met some people at an independent film distribution company. I joined as an intern and worked my way up. I landed a job on Netflix's creative team two years later.

The journey to opening a cinema in Japan

Getting the permit to renovate the abandoned kindergarten was a long process. I had to negotiate with officials at city hall and the residents about how I'd use the building, establish the company, deal with fire and health regulations, and construction in a language I don't speak fluently.

I learned that pushing harder is not necessarily what gets things done in Japan. It was about patience, building trust, and showing people that I was serious and that the project wasn't going to disappear in six months.

There were days when I wondered why I had chosen to make my life so difficult. But every milestone, from getting the building, the inspection, installing the projector, and finally opening the doors, made me more determined.

When the cinema first opened, the elderly residents seemed cautious. After a preview, they told me they were impressed to see the place cleaned up and put back into use. It's important for me to have screenings that kids and families can come to and enjoy the space.

Tickets cost 1,500 Japanese yen, or about $9.50. We offer a discount to seniors and residents. I stick with showing content that is harder to find elsewhere, so that it gives viewers a perspective on other ways of life and culture.

It's mostly family-run. I manage the operations, and my wife helps out sometimes. My kids stamp the tickets when they're around.

Living up to the challenge

Opening the theater in the US was different from doing it in Japan. I was in my 20s, had little money, and was just figuring things out in Detroit. The one in Japan came after 15 years of working in film distribution, creative production, and international screenings.

It's been exciting living over here, having the cinema, and meeting people from all over the world. While life in the US would've been much easier, I like the challenges in Japan. That's why I was at Netflix for so long, because it wasn't an easy job either. I learned life in hard mode.

• After a friend told Lau Wen Loong about Hyrox, he signed up for a race and trained for six weeks.
• It's now been two years since he got started, and he's already competed in 21 races in 11 cities.
• These three host cities have been his favorites.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Lau Wen Loong, 37, who, over the past two years, has competed in 21 Hyrox races in 11 cities around the world. It has been edited for length and clarity.

I hadn't exercised regularly in two years when a friend said to me, "I think you'll be interested in this." He was taking part in Hyrox, an endurance race that combines running with fitness stations. You can race individually, as doubles, or in a relay, and there are both amateur and professional racers. He asked if I wanted to race with him.

My friend ended up doing the race with his wife, so I decided to do it on my own. "Don't be crazy," he told me. But I signed up six weeks before the event and completed my first race in Singapore in August 2024. My final timing was just under 73 minutes. I was a cross-country runner in high school, but for the first time in my life, I understood why some people hate running.

After finishing one race, I started asking myself what I wanted to do next. I'd put so much time into training for that first race, and I didn't want to lose that momentum.

The competitions come with demands

It's been two years since I got started in Hyrox, and I've completed 21 races in 11 cities, including Chengdu, Bangkok, and Mumbai. I have seven more lined up for this year. I'm in between jobs at the moment and working on an AI startup with my brother.

Each race costs about $150, while flights and other expenses can add up to $1,500. In terms of race prep, I recently bought a yearlong membership at a gym in Seoul, where I'm currently based, for about $55 a month. I've become an ambassador for several Hyrox-related brands, and they help cover some of my costs.

Hyrox is a good mix of running and weights. I think I may be the fittest I've ever been. I never imagined I could be faster than my younger self.

So far, these have been my three favorite host cities:

1. Osaka, Japan: January 2026

Every Hyrox venue is different. Similar to F1 tracks, the setup is tweaked, and the runs between stations are never the same for each race. It was my first winter Hyrox, and I hit a personal best of 61:51.

The winter part was interesting, because the race was held between two halls in a small venue. You ran in one hall, crossed to the other side to do the workout, and crossed back to run again, getting a blast of fresh air in the process.

I spent seven days in Osaka, most of it around the race area, but I managed to do a bit of shopping in the Dotonbori district. I had dinner at a famous crab restaurant with my father, who sometimes comes to support me at my races, depending on his schedule and whether he likes the city.

2. Incheon, South Korea: May 2026

It was my friend's first Hyrox. He raced before me, and I got to see it. Not only that, but I also came in first in my age group and did a personal best

Like many Hyrox races, the Incheon edition was held in a major convention center. The layout provided for a very smooth race, unlike at other races, which can sometimes disrupt your rhythm

I'm based in Seoul, so I went there daily. It was one hour each way. On the first day of the race, when I hitched a ride back with a friend, I got to try out the hyugaeso, or rest stops along the highway. They are like mini shopping malls, and the one I went to had three floors and lots of small stalls.

In the course of my races, I have made a lot of friends, like my doubles partner Ian, and Yvonne, a Singaporean working mom who has done 55 races. A couple on the plane from Seoul to Singapore also noticed my Hyrox bag, and we started chatting and became friends.

3. Jakarta, Indonesia: June 2026

The race venue was in a beautiful part of Indonesia I'd never been to — I hope to return.

It was the very first Hyrox race in Indonesia, so it was new for everyone. It was held in a convention center in one of Jakarta's green spaces, which is very scenic.

It was my first time doing two doubles races, and I didn't even know the guy I was racing with until I met him on the day. We were introduced through a mutual friend, and we only trained together once.

The drive to finish and win

I was competing in separate races at the September 2026 Hyrox event in Beijing, where Joanna Wietrzyk soiled herself. I saw her from afar, but didn't see what happened firsthand.

I've tried to put myself in her shoes and wondered if I would continue. I don't think I would or could. I do hope that she'll bounce back from it.

I've seen a lot of people crying at Hyrox. Whether it be tears of joy or tears of frustration, it still surprises me. Hyrox is a bit like therapy, as you are processing through your body. I intend to continue racing for at least another year.

I think the biggest benefit is that it enables you to be more self-aware.

• Leslie Hodgin and her husband had dreamed of moving abroad.
• They finally took the leap in January, deciding not to waste time in their 50s.
• Hodgin said the move was expensive and time-consuming, but she's been happy with their relocation.

This story is based on an interview with Leslie Hodgin, a 55-year-old marketing consultant who moved from the US to the Netherlands with her husband, John Lyman, 52. It has been edited for length and clarity.

Until 2026, I was living in Richmond, Virginia, with my husband and our cat.

My dad was in the Army, so I grew up all over the world, but Richmond is my adopted home. I lived there for about 10 years.

During that time, I got an offer to move to Seoul, South Korea, for my marketing job. My husband, John, and I were dating at the time. We got married one week before moving to Seoul for two years.

After the contract ended, we returned to the States. I love Richmond, but it did feel small after I had been in Korea.

Some events happened in both of our families that made us want to move abroad again sooner rather than later. My dad died. My husband's mom died. We had a couple of dear friends pass away. It was all very quick. And it made me think, "What are we waiting for? We don't have promises for tomorrow. Now is the time."

We don't have kids, so that wasn't holding us back. We had some money in the bank to move, which I know is a privilege. It was like, "Let's just go and live our lives. We shouldn't just keep hoping for someday because there may not be someday."

Moving to the Netherlands

John had gone to graduate school in the Netherlands, so we'd visited before. Through my work in advertising, I also had a fairly large network of people living there.

There's a visa for Americans called the Dutch-American Friendship Treaty (DAFT) that allows freelancers and entrepreneurs to live in the Netherlands. It made the country seem like a great choice for us.

My husband works for himself, so it was easier for him to pick up and go anywhere. I started my own consulting business and left my agency. I knew there was an advertising community in the Netherlands, and I planned to freelance if my consulting business wasn't doing well.

My husband's dad is in his 90s, and my mom just turned 80. Moving far from them was probably the hardest part of the decision. I have a little guilt for that, but they're excited for us. I've promised my mom that I'll be home for any big family and important events.

That's a hard thing to do, but we felt it was right for us not to put our lives on hold.

Downsizing our lives

We moved in January. We did it in six months. We'd sold our house about a year before moving and were living in an apartment.

We decided to sell almost everything we owned to keep costs as low as possible. We shipped a half-crate over, which is quite small, so we had to get rid of a lot of stuff. We made close to $12,000 selling everything and used it to pay for the visas and help with some of the moving costs.

When we moved, we had nine suitcases, including a large piece of art. It was the largest oversize item that would fit on an airplane, and we had a special museum-packing company pack it. And our cat, of course, came on the plane with us.

We live in a two-bedroom apartment. It's an old, old building, but the apartment is newly renovated and has a patio.

We do feel lucky that we found a place because there is a housing shortage, and it's quite hard to find housing, particularly if you're American or from another country and you don't have Dutch income. We had to pay six months' rent upfront to secure our rental.

Life in Europe

It still feels surreal that we live here. My husband and I will frequently look at each other and say, "Oh my God, I can't believe that we're here." I never want to lose that feeling.

Business seems to be going really well. I also already knew some friends, but I've met so many amazing people through social media and made some great friends with our neighbors.

We love the sense of community. I appreciate the social contract that people afford each other in the Netherlands, from the opportunities the government provides to the respect and trust they show each other in general.

Recently, there was Open Monumentendag, or Open Monuments Day, with over a thousand monuments, churches, houses, farms, and historic places across the Netherlands open to the public for free. They do that every year, and it feels so special. It seems like every other weekend there's a festival.

There are always challenges. I'm very slow to pick up the language. Most people speak English, but I feel like I need to be better.

Moving also costs a lot more than you plan for. Even if you've tried to pad all the numbers, it still costs more than anticipated. Because our work was quite slow earlier in the year, we were like, "Gosh, what have we done?"

Our cost of living is fairly similar to what it was in the US. We don't have a car, so we don't have that expense. We would be paying double the rent in New York City for this same apartment.

A fresh start

I feel alive again. I felt a little stagnant in Richmond after living overseas, and moving has opened a lot of doors for my creativity.

On social media, I've documented trying one new thing a week. It's gotten us out to meet people and have some interesting experiences.

There's a risk in moving abroad. You have to get yourself over the hump, and you have to be brave.

Believe in yourself. If there's something you want to try, like moving overseas, going on a solo trip, or taking a cooking class, take a chance on yourself. You're never going to regret trying it if it doesn't work out. If you don't ever put yourself out there, you're going to look back in 20 years and be like, "That would have been great. Why didn't I give that a shot?"

• Lonni Pike got sober at 51 after years of addiction and felt ready for a fresh start.
• She rejected expectations that older women should dress conservatively or fade into the background.
• Now 62, she's a fashion influencer, Twitch gamer, and advocate for aging on her own terms.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Lonni Pike. It has been edited for length and clarity.

Eleven years ago, when I was 51, I got sober after years of struggling with addiction. I felt vibrant again and ready for my life to start.

What I was met with was messaging on TV, social media, and even in day-to-day life that I had missed the train. I was too old, too boring, and I would just need to move along.

Everything associated with women and aging seemed to be negative. Even women themselves were negative about aging, and started hiding away, blending in, or getting treatments to chase youth.

But that wasn't going to be me. I was tenacious and determined to live the life I had another chance at.

I started expressing myself through fashion

Loving fashion, I started finding clothes that told the world who I was. Fashion is much more than clothing — it's the way people feel about themselves.

Most women my age had given in to the expectation that an aging woman is meant to be drab and boring.

For a bit of fun, I went to a clothing store and asked a staff member to help me find something to wear. She chose a pair of tan pants and a button-up, plain top, with a pair of loafers.

We are told not to show our arms because they are too flabby, not to wear miniskirts because our legs should not be seen, and to avoid bold colors so we don't stand out in a crowd.

I'd break out of this noise and dress in a way that made me feel good about myself.

With the help of my son, who studied broadcast journalism, I started posting on social media about what I was wearing.

I remember people telling me I looked like I was dressing like a teenager, or asking why I was wearing men's clothing. I often responded by saying that clothes don't have an age or gender, and that I was dressing to represent myself.

I've now created a community, mostly of women, who are watching my content and being reminded that aging isn't something to fear. It isn't the end.

My quest to age in the way I wanted didn't end with fashion

I shaved my head because I hated my hair and felt that a buzz cut would make me feel more like I felt inside.

Three years ago, I started a gaming channel, and I've become a TikTok gaming live pro and Twitch partner.

My sons had always played video games, and it looked really fun. But I knew it was a notoriously young crowd. I asked if I was too old to game. It was when I found another gamer, Tactical Grandma, who was around my age, that I knew I should try it.

I started solo hiking because, after getting sober, I needed that time alone outside, moving, to reflect. Slowly, I built up my fitness.

In October, I'll run my first 5 K. This was a goal I had after watching people run a half-marathon. I thought half-marathoners would be young and super fit, but there are so many different ages and shapes.

Having gotten tattoos for years, I was determined to continue getting them as I aged. They are my life's journey inked out on my skin. I don't worry about the wrinkles or a changing body shape that might alter how they look. The canvas the tattoos are on doesn't have to be perfect — I love the tattoos for what they represent, not for how aesthetically pleasing they are to other people.

Next month, I plan to get bird tattoos along the right side of my neck.

As I continue to age, I want to be louder. Not "in your face" kind of loud, but I do want to talk more frequently about aging.

Women can be comfortable getting older. They don't need to be perfect to be beautiful. In the world of AI, injectables, and cosmetic procedures, this is a powerful message.

It seems that growing old is becoming a dying art. That's why I want to pop up in their feeds to say that none of it's true. Aging doesn't have to be something we dread.

Sometimes, my body doesn't keep up with my brain. Running had been hard and ruined my feet. Gaming for eight hours a day has been hard on my body. And that's OK — I'll pivot and pursue something else instead.

I tried new things in my 50s and 60s, and I'll continue fearlessly trying more until I can't anymore.

• Hayley and Mo Molina built a house on Hayley's parents' 400-acre family ranch in Oklahoma.
• Now they live steps away from Hayley's parents, grandparents, and brother and sister-in-law.
• They both enjoy spending time with the family, and everyone has grown closer.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Hayley and Mo Molina, 30 and 49, a married couple who live on a 400-acre ranch in Claremore, Oklahoma. Hayley's parents bought the ranch in 2021, and now four generations of family live there. The following has been edited for length and clarity.

Hayley: I was born in Bluffton, Indiana. Then my family moved to Oklahoma when I was three.

We always lived in town, and my family knew nothing about ranching. They were golfers; I didn't listen to country music until I was in high school — we were city people. But then my parents sold their house and were looking for something new, something different.

They were actually looking for something smaller and with not as much land to take care of, but we started talking about a family compound, found Hook Ranch, and just jumped in headfirst.

When my parents first found the property, it was about 170 acres, give or take, and they just kept buying more land and growing it bigger and bigger until it landed on what it is now.

When my parents were talking about doing this, the future goal was for me to be out here. For me, it wasn't the goal right away. I wanted that in the future, but I didn't know what the future looked like for me.

My grandparents ended up moving out here and living in the barn, where they live now, because I wasn't planning on moving out there or building anytime soon.

They were like, "OK, well we'll just take your spot then."

Then Mo and I met, and honestly, I don't even know if we ever had the conversation about living out here.

Mo: We really didn't bring it up early on. And when we first thought about it, I was like, "There's no way I'm living out there with all them family. There's no way." Not because I didn't like them; it just wasn't in the plan.

But then, as I got to know them, loved them, and we hung out with them almost every weekend, we were like, "Wait a minute, we love it out here."

I proposed out here, and after that, it took off from there. And then it was normal.

It's not weird to be living this close to my family

Hayley: On the property, there's us, my parents, my mom's parents, and then my brother and sister-in-law and their two daughters.

My family's always been so close. We're the type of people who always hung out on the weekends. We always went to my parents' house Friday night. It was so normal to be so close and always together.

Mo: For me, it was just my mom and me growing up, and we lived in the city, but I'm a country boy. I knew I always wanted to be out in the country. But it looked like I was going to be in the city the whole time. But with Hayley being close to her family, it all came together.

Hayley: We actually moved in with my parents first. We sold my house in March 2025, and then moved in with my parents.

Mo: We lived there while we were building our house.

Hayley: We got married in September, moved in with my parents in March, and lived there for seven months. We moved into our house in October of 2025.

Our house is only about 100 yards away from the barn, which is where my parents and grandparents live.

My brother and sister-in-law are about 200 yards away from the barn — it's like a seven-minute walk. It's literally a one-minute walk from my house to my parents' house.

Mo: I didn't know if there were going to be any benefits to living that close or not, especially when my father-in-law built a trail that goes right from the barn to our house.

It's kind of cliché, but if we don't have any eggs, we can literally walk down there.

Hayley: But honestly, we have so much privacy. You wouldn't think that, but I can't even see my parents' house or my brother's house from my house.

We can be in the backyard, the front yard, and I have no idea what's going on at their houses ever.

We can go weeks without seeing anybody. There's a lot of privacy out here because everybody respects each other's privacy.

Mo: It is weird knowing that we're this close and then a couple weeks go by, and I'm like, "Man, I haven't seen anybody," or "We haven't gone down there," and they're 100 steps away.

We've built closer relationships by living on the same property

Mo: When we first started dating, she was always hanging out with her parents almost every weekend, and I was living my single life, and I was hanging out with my buddies, and we would go out almost every weekend.

Hayley: Friday nights, we know what my parents are doing, because they do the same thing pretty much every Friday night.

So if we don't have anything to do, we are just going to go join them. Sometimes I just want to hang out with people, but I don't want to have to drive anywhere, and I don't want to have to get ready. So we'll have a game night at the barn with the whole family: my grandparents, us, my parents, and my brother and his family.

Mo: Hayley used to come and hang out with my friends, and then it didn't take very long before I went over to her family's place and hung out with them. I was like, "Man, this is kind of cool." They're awesome to hang out with.

At first, I was like, "I'm not hanging out with your parents. This is not a cool Friday night." In less than a month, I would say we were literally hanging out every weekend with her parents.

Hayley: I think we all have gotten so much closer. I have learned so much about my grandparents and gotten closer with my grandma.

My grandma comes over to our house every Monday morning and washes our sheets for us. While the sheets are washing and drying, she cleans the floors for me, and while she's doing that, she and I chat.

That's been really nice because I get to connect with her whenever. Before, I couldn't really do that because we only saw them every once in a while. Now I can do that every week. And she goes to my brother's house and does their laundry on Tuesdays.

Mo: Getting to know her family more and seeing how they do things and what they like and what their everyday looks like has been a benefit.

Her family works so hard. Her mom is the hardest worker on the ranch, and I would've never known that when I met her.

Her parents run a business, and her dad is constantly not in the house — except to watch college football.

I've learned so much from him.

I think getting to know that part of her family was huge for me. That's what's different. If we lived where we lived before, I probably would've never learned, or wanted to learn, that. So that was big for me.

• In his 40s, Jonathan Yang decided he wanted to get hot — and stopped feeling ashamed to say it.
• His paycheck funded hair transplants, a nose job, and GLP-1s, which he continued post-layoff.
• As his body changed, he said he felt more confident and also noticed that people treated him better.

This is an as-told-to essay based on a conversation with Jonathan Yang, who was laid off from Meta in late 2024 after more than three years on the office design team. The 43-year-old shares how his job, cosmetic procedures, and weight loss shaped his confidence. The following has been edited for brevity and clarity.

At Meta, I worked really hard. I had golden handcuffs. I did not prioritize my health. You go to Meta, and they call it the "Facebook 15." Well, it was probably more than 15 pounds because of all the food that's available and all the stress. So, I just really let myself go. I put in everything I could to keep the job.

One upside was that having a bigger paycheck allowed me to start exploring things that I'd always wanted to do — emotionally, physically, aesthetically. I could finally afford a $10,000 hair transplant.

I also got a nose job. I've also had another hair transplant. Looking good and feeling good, to me, are fundamentally tied together. That's for me, and not everybody needs that. A lot of people out there are very successful being their own person and not letting that get to them. I'm not that strong.

I just wanted to get hot

Doing these things started to change how I felt about myself. It started to take away some of the shame that I had around getting aesthetic treatments. Because, as a man, it's seen as superfluous, and it's frowned upon. Before that, I had done a lot of soul-searching, therapy, and all kinds of things.

I hired a trainer, and I felt good, but the change wasn't happening fast enough. Then GLP-1s came out. I'd been waiting for something like that. I finally got on them, and then the weight started to come off, and I just started to blossom.

Once I started seeing the results, I just wanted to get hot. I wanted, at 43, to finally feel confident enough to say that out loud without having any kind of qualms about it. I think working out is a segue for people to think about improving their lives emotionally — to talk about those things — and fitness is an acceptable way for men to kind of go into that.

At work, I would get up onstage and be much more confident. Before that, it wasn't a conscious thing where I knew why I was so meek. When I look back, I would be nervous. I wouldn't smile. On GLP-1s, I started to really change and show up differently at work, and I was getting promotions. I just felt like I had more command because I lost the weight. My coworkers and managers all treated me better.

Now I'm on a lower dose of GLP-1s. I have to pay for it myself now that I'm self-employed. That's not something I'm going to stop.

People look at me differently

After my layoff, my weight was something I could control. I had to build a new routine. My body needed it, too. I had sciatica, and I had all this nerve pain. It really was like my body broke. I had never felt something like that.

I became hyper-focused on wellness, keeping fit, and eating well. Losing weight gave me the confidence to share my story. It allowed me to shed any insecurity or cringe. We say that a lot, but it was like I'm at this point now where I've only got one life to live. I know what it tastes like now.

After all the changes I made, people looked at me differently. A thing that people don't really talk about is how, on the surface, it really is about looks. I would walk into a situation with this naive sense of, "Oh, they're not looking at my weight."

As soon as I started looking more conventionally attractive, I noticed that was the first thing people would comment on. I would meet people, and they would say, "Well, you obviously go to the gym a lot," or "Oh, look at those arms!" I was like, "Wow! We live in this world where we're told, 'Aesthetics don't really matter. People look at your character.' Unfortunately, it's not true. I wish it were.

Do you have a story about how your appearance has affected your work or career? Contact this reporter at tparadis@businessinsider.com.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Jeff Kinney, the 55-year-old author of the "Diary of a Wimpy Kid" series, who lives in Plainville, Massachusetts. It has been edited for length and clarity.

When I wrote "Diary of a Wimpy Kid," I worked on it for eight or nine years without thinking I was writing a book for kids.

I thought I was writing a book for grown-ups that would feel like "The Wonder Years" or "A Christmas Story" — looking back on childhood through the lens of an adult.

The first thing that surprised me was that my publisher said I'd actually written a children's series; it caused a lot of cognitive dissonance.

But what also surprised me was that kids understood the irony in the books. They understand that Greg is an unreliable narrator; they seem to get the joke.

After writing the series, and after raising two kids of my own — ages 21 and 23 — I've learned a few things about kids. Here's my best advice about getting kids to read, screen time, and more — plus a few things I'd go back and change if I could.

1. To get kids to read, feed their interests

I recently heard author Jack Gantos say that after dinner, he and his family would get out their books and read. I think that's really cool and also very old-fashioned, in a way. I wish we'd done it when raising our kids.

With reading, I think the most important thing you can do is feed your kids' interests, whether they're interested in Pokémon cards or sharks or tornadoes. Get them books or magazines that speak to their interests, rather than trying to give them books that we read as kids or books that are too high-minded for their age level.

A lot of authors who write for kids start with some sort of a lesson, and there's a time and place for that. But kids read for the same reason that adults read: to be entertained. If we start from a position of trying to teach kids a lesson, they'll sniff that out and turn away from it.

It's really important to encourage kids down a path that gets them reaching for the next book. I want them to feel a feeling of success in having finished a book because that's an important act of completion. But mostly, I'd like them to keep reading, whatever form that might take.

2. Listen to them

In everyday parenting, sitting at dinner with our kids and hearing about their day without judgment is a really good foundation. Just about everything that kids today are going through, we've been through in some form. The most powerful thing that we can say to kids is "I understand," or "I've been there myself," and share stories, making sure that they feel seen and heard.

As parents, we should make ourselves vulnerable to our kids by telling them about the struggles that we went through.

If we do that without moralizing and without judgment, I think it draws us closer to our kids and turns us into a resource for them.

3. Envision your future relationship

I've always thought about my relationship with my kids by imagining, How do I want our relationship to look when my kids are adults? I've tried to anticipate that and treat my kids that way the whole time.

I think it's working out because my kids will call me and want to go see the Patriots or the Celtics with me. I think that's partially because I've always had this version of our relationship in mind.

4. Don't get too wrapped up in kids' sports

As parents, we live and die by our kids' successes in sports. I certainly got too caught up in it and couldn't really anticipate that there would be a life beyond sports for my kids.

If I were to go back in time, I probably would change my approach on that. We like to see our kids succeed, and of course, sports is a big stage where there's a lot wrapped up in their success, including social issues and self-esteem.

When our kids are thriving, we feel really good for them, and when they're failing, it's tough for them and us. I can understand why that happens with parents, but I can also see that it's good to take a step back.

5. Help them understand that social media manipulates

Social media bullying is something that we never had to face growing up, and it's really unfortunate and damaging.

Screen time has changed things — you see studies finding that kids are dating a lot less, and there's a loneliness epidemic.

As parents, we can help kids by educating them and helping them understand that social media companies are incentivized to make you spend more time on your screens. The more that my kids, who grew up immersed in the social media world, began to understand that, the more they wanted to move away from it.

They get out there in the world — touch grass, play sports, and pick up basketball. My son will put lockouts on his social media.

It's important for us to think for ourselves before we turn to AI

As AI becomes a part of schoolwork and daily life, my concern is that AI makes a lot of things very easy.

At times, I look for solutions through AI that I could conjure up myself, so I worry about how that rewires the brain when you feel like there's always an agent that can solve your problem for you. It could reduce your own capacity for problem-solving.

It's really important for kids to be able to think for themselves before turning to the tool.

To counteract that, getting out in the world and interacting with one another is really important. Put kids into social situations; for example, my son has been working as a bookseller this past year, where he's had to interact with lots of different types of people and solve problems.

A lot of kids or young people in this generation are more isolated. They spend a lot more time in their rooms on their phones, and so I think that getting them out there interacting with other human beings is going to give them a competitive advantage.

• Brian Rooney, 60, filed for Chapter 7 bankruptcy in 2024.
• During his late wife's illness, he built up medical and credit-card debt.
• After she died, the grief made it difficult for him to sustain his business.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Brian Rooney, the 60-year-old founder of Chapter7Reset.com, who lives in Conroe, Texas. He lost his wife in 2013. The essay has been edited for length and clarity, and the details verified.

When you're grieving, you're not thinking about how to move a business forward, capture new market share, or adapt to new technologies. You're not thinking straight because you're overwhelmed by a cloud of loss, pain, and sorrow. Some days, you're just trying to get through morning to night.

In 2013, I lost my wife, my partner, and my life. I still had to deal with the financial reality. I had underestimated what grief would do to my ability to run a business.

Tina was the yin to my yang

My wife, Tina, and I had 24 great years together. She was the yin to my yang. We met through a mutual friend, got to know each other, and fell in love. She was a strong, independent thinker. She was loving, kept me in check, and was an outstanding mother.

Our five kids were all born close together, and I was very involved in their lives. One of the reasons I started a business was because I wanted to be the dad who could be at home, coach my sons in basketball, and play in recitals with my daughter.

We'd tried both working early on, but Tina stopped early on in our relationship. I was the breadwinner, and she managed the kids.

I launched my email-marketing business in 2000. For a time, it did very, very well.

My wife was diagnosed with cancer

In 2011, things felt almost too good to be true. Then Tina noticed a little bump in the roof of her mouth. She went to the dentist; they did a biopsy, and we didn't think too much about it. Weeks later, I was sitting in my home office when she came over with the phone. With a very disturbed look, she said, "I have cancer."

Our lives turned upside down.

At first, because the cancer wasn't very aggressive, we tried homeopathic remedies. Then came chemotherapy, radiation, and major surgeries. The treatments were costly, and while the Affordable Care Act covered quite a bit, we still had high deductibles. Some hospitals wouldn't admit her until the deductible had been paid.

I would sit at the table with spreadsheets, trying to work out the finances. I was trying to be strong for my wife, but sometimes I'd go to the corner of the room and cry. The unspeakable thing to consider was that I might lose my wife because I couldn't afford to pay for it all.

A lot of the medical bills were paid with credit cards, and we ran up a lot of credit-card debt. I had six mouths to feed, for which I relied mostly on credit cards. I sold my music gear, like my guitars and amps. We moved from a beautiful rental house in a nice area of Texas to a much less expensive apartment. We weren't going to shows, basketball games, or on trips. None of that bothered me. The focus was on getting Mama healthy.

Friends and family stepped in here and there to help out. My kids were approaching adulthood, so they didn't need much looking after, but working from home let me adjust my schedule as needed.

I couldn't keep the business moving forward

There were days when I couldn't touch the business. It was mostly automated, but there were things I needed to step in and manage. If a server went down, I'd need to stay up all night to fix it while checking on my wife in the other room.

I wasn't resting or sleeping. I wasn't able to drive the business forward.

During that time, the industry was changing. New technology became available, and we weren't able to keep up. I was so focused on Tina's care that we missed opportunities. We had contractors and a business partner, and I wish I'd outsourced a lot faster. I didn't realize how fast I was losing.

I became a widower at 47

Tina died in November 2013. She was 49, and I was a 47-year-old widower.

Those first few weeks, I'd wake up, roll over, realize she wasn't there, and know that she never would be again. I would talk myself out of bed, one body part at a time.

The business was still there. My business partner was focused on the technical side, but I had the marketing and entrepreneurial mindset. A lot of things that needed to get done didn't get done. Honestly, at that point, I didn't care. It was a dark time for me

I wanted a clean slate

The business was declining, and meanwhile, I'd built up hundreds of thousands of dollars in credit-card and medical debt. I thought I could put everything on my credit cards, turn things around, and pay it down. Things never turned around, and as the business continued to decline, there was less money to draw from it.

I spoke with bankruptcy attorneys, but I was convinced I could fix the problem.

In 2021, I got remarried. My second wife knew about the financial mess I was in. The interest and penalties were compounding so quickly. There was constant pressure from phone calls, letters, and demands for payment. I wanted relief and a clean slate.

In early 2024, after speaking with my business partner, we decided to dissolve the business. Later that year, I filed for Chapter 7 bankruptcy.

I felt both relief and shame after filing for bankruptcy

When I filed for bankruptcy, I had no assets because I'd sold them all to pay my bills. When the debt was wiped out, I felt relief and shame, but the relief took over once I stopped getting phone calls and letters.

It was time to rebuild. I got a sales job, which I hadn't had in decades. I did AI certification training and started rebuilding my credit with credit-rebuilding cards. I launched ChapterSevenReset.com, a free guide to help people in a similar position.

One of the hardest lessons was that we didn't have a life-insurance policy on Tina. It never dawned on me because she wasn't contributing financially. I never considered how caring for her and my grief would take away from my generating income. My second wife and I both have life insurance policies for each other.

Nowadays, my friends say the "old Brian" is back. I've made peace, as best you can, with the fact that Tina is gone. I'm like an amputee. There's a part of me that's missing, and that part will always be missing. It itches. It's always there.

• Danielle Fewings, founder of Get Clear Beauty, has invested in cosmetic treatments since she was 27.
• Fewings' journey with aesthetic procedures began with a breast reduction and includes Botox and filler.
• Her $150,000 investment in herself has supported both personal confidence and professional success.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Danielle Fewings, a 40-year-old entrepreneur from New York City. The following has been edited for length and clarity.

I started my career in digital marketing and ran my own agency from 2020 until 2025, when I sold it. I'm now the founder of Get Clear Beauty, an aesthetic treatment marketplace, which I started in 2026.

I've always felt like there was something missing from my appearance, as if someone much more confident was buried beneath it all. I got my first procedure done in 2013 and have had many since.

I don't regret any of them.

I'm the most treatment‑forward person in almost every room I'm in

In my broader New York circle, routine maintenance is completely normal. People are getting Botox and lip filler, and a few have had breast augmentations. Most are dipping in rather than going all in.

I'm honestly the most treatment-forward person in almost every room I'm in. In any given conversation, I'm the one who's had the most work done, which is a little wild when I think about it.

For most of the people I know, the max is Botox. Routine maintenance is common around me, but no one I'm close to has done anywhere near as much as I have.

My first major decision was my breast reduction at 27

I wore a 32G and desperately wanted them smaller. I call this my gateway surgery because it was honestly a very easy recovery, so I had this ease as the template, which gave me the confidence to keep pursuing additional treatments.

It made me more willing to put myself out there, both in dating and especially in showing up online to create content for my business, which matters enormously when you're building something. It shifted how I approach relationships, too, both friendships and romantic ones.

When you feel confident inside and out, you see yourself as more valuable, recognize your worth, and become more selective about who you let into your life. As I've felt better about myself, I've been more intentional about the relationships I keep close, and I see a direct correlation between the two.

I've never made decisions due to outside pressure

My choices have always been personal. I've never done any of this for another person or because of outside pressure. It has always been about putting my best self forward, and if that takes some tweaks and some money, I'm willing to do it.

I'm a very confident person — I just haven't accepted every imperfection. My upper blepharoplasty is a good example: most people would say I didn't need it, and they would be right, because no one needs any of these things. I wanted it. My eyelids felt heavy, and I chose to change that.

I'm fully committed to antiaging and the maintenance it requires. I go to my quarterly Botox appointments and my annual lip filler appointments, and I'll be ready for a facelift when that time comes. The idea that aging gracefully means avoiding treatments is absurd; aging gracefully is doing whatever feels good to you as an individual.

The cost breakdown

Because my first breast surgery was a reduction, I paid $6,000 out of pocket, and my insurance covered the rest. I had a full-body makeover in the Dominican Republic, which included a tummy tuck, skin tightening, and two further breast surgeries after major weight loss, costing around $12,000. I've also had liposuction, scar revision, an upper blepharoplasty, Sculptra and filler, a Morpheus8 treatment on my legs, tattoo removal, lip blushing, microblading and shading, Invisalign, and teeth whitening. These procedures have cost about $50,000 in total.

The maintenance I keep up with regularly includes manicures and pedicures, which I have gotten every two weeks for the past 10 years; lash extensions, which I have gotten every three weeks for about 15 years; Botox; more filler; peels and lasers; tanning; and haircuts. The recurring maintenance has cost about $105,000 over time.

What struck me is that the one-time procedures come to about $50,000, but the quiet, recurring maintenance is over $100,000. The costs nobody tracks are the ones that add up the most. That is exactly why I built Get Clear Beauty.

Each procedure served a purpose

My whole philosophy has been doing high-maintenance things to stay low-maintenance. The lashes, manicures and pedicures, lip blushing, and microblading are all upkeep that let me feel put-together with minimal effort, and because of them, I barely wear makeup, so some of that cost is a trade-off.

The bigger procedures came from real changes in my body. My weight has gone up and down for years, and that has driven a lot of it. The Morpheus8 on my legs was for skin laxity, because I'm not ready for a leg lift and probably don't need one. I've had three breast surgeries total.

I'd never do CoolSculpting, and I'd never have a nose job. I don't think CoolSculpting is cost-effective, and I've grown to love my nose.

My appearance impacts confidence, and confidence impacts business

When you're on 15 Zooms a week and constantly recording content to win business, looking and feeling your best matters.

Appearance affects business outcomes, but for me, it works through confidence. When I feel good about how I'm showing up, I represent my company more powerfully and carry my knowledge into the room in a way that lands.

I love how I look. 10 years ago, I never thought looking this way was achievable, and it's the result of a GLP-1 medication, surgeries, and really taking my appearance by the horns. I'm in a genuinely happy place with it.

• Hilary Tang and her college friends bought an akiya in Hiroshima, Japan, for a little over $11,000.
• The group of friends spent months living at the property while renovating it.
• They plan to use it mostly for gatherings but are open to renting it out to cover yearly costs.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Hilary Tang, 23, a recent college graduate from Hong Kong who purchased a home in Hiroshima, Japan, with her college friends. The following has been edited for length and clarity.

I graduated from Minerva University in San Francisco last May.

I was planning to work at a startup in San Francisco, but I decided that I wanted to take a gap year. At Minerva, our cohort is pretty diverse, and I have quite a few friends from Japan. One of my friends had this concept: "There are these akiyas, but no one actually buys them."

I actually never saw any of those videos about akiyas before, but I did know about the 1 euro house in Italy thing. I didn't know there was a similar concept in Japan.

My friend was initially planning to buy a house with his high school friends, but they backed out very early on. After they backed out, he asked if we were interested in buying a house.

That was in June. We bought the house in late July, and then we got the keys on August 6.

At first, we were trying to recruit people, but no one really wanted to. We even tried to recruit outside our school. I tried asking people from Hong Kong, but no one wanted to go somewhere random and buy a house in Japan because there's quite a lot of risk.

From the initial six people who bought the house, five people are from my university.

Then two other people joined, because my friend's friends also came over after we started the renovation. They're from Japan and really liked the house, so they decided to chip in as well. So currently, we have eight people.

We always wanted to have eight people in the house — it's just easier if we have a bigger budget.

We wanted to buy and renovate the house for less than $20,000

After we assembled the people who decided to buy the house, we had an initial meeting to understand each person's motivations and expectations, because that would determine what kind of house we buy and how we want to treat it.

When we were talking about things we would want in the location, something that was common was that, firstly, we all preferred being in nature or easily accessible to nature. Within the group, most of them are Japanese and already live in Tokyo, Osaka, or another big city, so for them, they wanted to have a second house in a more rural area.

Secondly, we wanted somewhere that is easily accessible, even internationally. Another friend is planning to work in the US, and there's also a Korean member, so it's better if there's more motivation, or it's easier for us to actually go there if there's an international airport nearby.

And thirdly, we wanted somewhere with better weather and with lower earthquake and tsunami risk.

We ended up finding a house in Hiroshima.

The house itself was 1.8 million yen (or $11,371), but the price was negotiated because the house was initially listed on the website at 3 million yen.

We also had to pay the agent fee and other fees, so we spent about 2.3 million yen in total.

The house is around 315 square meters (or 3,390 square feet), and almost 500 square meters of land.

We have nine Japanese-style rooms, which are rooms with tatami flooring, and two Western-style rooms, which are rooms without tatami flooring.

Initially, we wanted to do the whole renovation within $4,000, but since we have more people chipping in, our budget expanded. We still haven't used up our original $20,000 budget. Just for the renovation, we've used around $1,262, as of start of October.

We hang out there once a month, but we're also thinking about renting it out

We've been staying in the house the entire time we've renovated it, and luckily the house was in better condition than we expected.

The timeline was so tight that we couldn't actually go there to see the house before we bought it. But the agent did a video tour, and we looked around, and it was quite nice.

We also talked to our neighbors, because the person who lived in the house passed away about five years ago, and then afterward it was left vacant. But before he passed away, the neighbors said how the previous owner was really diligent with cleaning stuff; that they always saw him cleaning, even toward the end of his life.

When we got there, we realized it was actually a lot more well-maintained than we thought, so we didn't have to do a very big renovation. At first, we thought we'd have to change all the tatami, or rebuild certain parts, or put down certain parts. But it turns out there hasn't been a super big expense that would require us to rebuild the entire thing.

We did paint and also repaired some curtains and lights because they weren't working. We added a fire alarm and air conditioning because they only had one or two aircons, and it gets really hot in Hiroshima during the summer and really cold in the winter. Those wooden houses don't insulate very well.

When we first got there in August, there were five of us. Then maybe for the first three days, there was always someone new coming, because there are a lot of friends who wanted to come here. So there are always visitors, and they also helped out because there's a lot going on — we even had friends' parents come over as well.

That's been my favorite part.

You see sides of people that you don't know. Everyone has some sort of expertise to bring. For example, some people are really good at painting. Our friend helped us paint the bathroom wall — he wanted to paint a Fuji mountain, but none of us really knew how to paint. So I'm really glad he came and helped us paint.

There's a girl who went to a lot of auctions growing up, so she specialized in artwork and helped us go through the things the previous owner left behind.

It would be nice to do Airbnb and learn about the process and to experience what it's like to manage an Airbnb. Maybe with the house on Airbnb we can cover at least the running costs every year.

Still, we want to prioritize us hanging out.

Every month we try to gather there, and so far we've been going consistently once a month.

We wanted to create a place we could always come back to whenever life gets a little overwhelming, where any of us could take a break, have some space to ourselves, and take time to process whatever was going on in life.

We see this house not as an investment, but as a shared place among us.

• Jen Eaves' mother is 79 and lost more than $3,000 to online scams.
• Eaves now monitors her mother's finances and says that was a hard conversation.
• Digital caregiving is an important part of supporting aging parents, she says.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Jen Eaves, Digital Caregiving & Elder Fraud Advocate at Aura. It has been edited for length and clarity.

It's an odd shift in dynamic when you start caring for the people who always cared for you. My mother is 79, and lives with my brother, who handles most of her day-to-day physical care. I'm the one who handles the administrative side of care, like scheduling doctor appointments and keeping her safe online.

About six years ago, my mom had a stroke, and while she recovered fairly well, she wasn't the same cognitively as she had been before. Around that time, I began noticing her falling for scams online.

Once, she ordered a cure for diabetes, which she has. The product was supposedly being sold by a famous TV doctor. When she showed me the video ad, I could see it was badly done AI, with the supposed doctor's lips not matching his words.

There have been other scams and pitfalls, too: online orders that never arrive, or even a legitimate credit card that my mom opened without realizing what she was doing. All in all, she's lost about $3,000 to scams, though I've been able to recover most of it through her bank.

I've realized that I need to take a more proactive approach to digital caregiving to protect my mom's finances. Here's what I'm doing.

Approaching from a place of help and dignity

After my brother and I had taken my mom's keys away, her phone became her connection to the world. I wanted to respect that. While some people have to restrict their older parents' access to phones, that didn't feel right in my case.

It was critical to me that my mom kept her dignity and as much independence as possible. At the same time, I saw there was an emotional side to falling for a scam: she would feel frustrated and confused when it happened, and I wanted to spare her those negative emotions.

I never want my mom to feel like I'm parenting her. Instead, I pointed out the patterns I was seeing and emphasized I'm here to help if she's willing to let me be involved. The choice, ultimately, is hers. This would be a lot harder if she wasn't willing.

Talk about scams

My mom wasn't particularly tech savvy, even before her stroke. I've had to educate her about what scams look like. When she shared the famous doctor video, I pointed out the aspects that seemed AI-generated to me. I remind her that if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is. I emphasize that urgency is a big sign of a scam. The bank, I tell her, is never going to call you.

Once, she had a scam caller claiming to be Apple support. They asked for her Apple ID and password, which would have given them access to pretty much everything she has online.

Because of our conversations, my mom hesitated. She patched me into the call and asked the scammer to explain the situation to me. I was very proud that she recognized the scam and knew to ask me for help.

I monitor my mom's accounts

I worked in cybersecurity at Aura, which offers a lot of great products for keeping kids safe online. But my experience with my mom made me realize we were missing a whole vulnerable population: older adults.

I helped develop Trusted Family Access, which allows family members like me to see alerts from their loved ones' accounts, with permission. This gives me peace of mind that I can catch any issues quickly. It's also made other aspects of caregiving easier, like handling medical appointments, because I have access to all my mom's information in one place.

When my mom was scammed, it felt like I was a victim too. I spent hours calling her bank and credit cards to get her money back. If she were to lose her savings, it would impact the whole family. I'm grateful we've found a solution that empowers both of us to keep her finances safe.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Siobhan MacDermott, a 56-year-old tech founder based in Menlo Park, California. It's been edited for length and clarity.

I've never been underqualified for any job that I've applied to.

I was vice chair at Bank of America and principal at EY. I held senior roles in cybersecurity at AVG and McAfee. I've sat in boardrooms with Fortune 500 CEOs, advised governments, and built practices from scratch.

Then, in early 2024, when I was 54, I had to relocate from New York City to California for family reasons, leaving the management consulting job I'd held as a partner at The Consello Group. I didn't anticipate what could happen when someone tries to re-enter the institutional world in their 50s — particularly as a woman in a career space that doesn't fit neatly into a job description.

The most surprising barrier has been the gap between what I've actually done and what the market knows how to categorize. I'm worried because I'm not sure where the economy is heading, but I'm an absolute eternal optimist.

I'm not going to accept anything other than staying hopeful.

I felt like my job application was going into the ether

It's been frustrating to watch organizations that desperately need exactly what I've built not hire me.

When I started my job search, I reached out to my network to try to figure out what I could do, who'd vouch for me, and where open positions were. A lot of senior roles were being downsized, but I had a lot of people who initially wanted to help me find something.

The strategies that were a complete waste of time were LinkedIn Easy Apply, recruiter calls that went nowhere, and any process that involved a 45-minute competency-based interview with someone who'd never heard of the big companies I've worked for.

I spent the better portion of every day for over a year applying and looking for jobs. I obsessively searched on LinkedIn for new positions, applying over and over again on the site, company websites, emails, and more, but getting nowhere.

I sent out countless résumés and barely got any responses. These are jobs that I know I'm qualified or overqualified to do, but sometimes I didn't even get the courtesy of the automated "thank you for applying" response.

It was like my application went into the ether. I'd try to find the head of HR for these companies on LinkedIn and reach out to them because I wanted the feedback.

I started trying to think of interesting ways to get attention

The strategy that worked the best during my job search was bypassing HR entirely and using direct outreach to CEOs and board members.

I'd send them letters not even related to a job, but more of an observation of their company to get their attention. I tried to be crafty, saying, "Based on my external assessment of your company, here are some things that I think you should be doing as you think through your next quarter."

Reaching out to CEOs got me in the door, but then they'd send me down to somebody who was pretty junior who'd say, "You're overqualified for this job." They'd courtesy interview me because they'd been told to, but it didn't go beyond that.

Sometimes a CEO would send me to HR, and HR would look at my skill set and say, "It doesn't quite match."

That happened quite a few times.

I adjusted my LinkedIn profile to get a better response, and that helped

I changed my gender to male and back to female a bunch of times to see if it made a difference — I didn't change my pronouns, just my actual gender. I felt like I had more responses on LinkedIn being thought to be male than female.

I also think being in Silicon Valley, you age out a lot faster than you do in other parts of the US, and it's definitely a highly male- dominated space. I had those two things working against me from the get-go.

So I removed the first six years of my career from my work experience on LinkedIn, and I took the dates off of my degrees so that people couldn't tell my age. This made me seem seven to 10 years younger, potentially. Once I took those dates off, I felt like I got more engagement on the site.

My job search in Silicon Valley went nowhere, so I decided to pivot and launch my own venture

I started my company out of necessity, and also out of intellectual boredom. I felt like my brain was starting to rot.

It happened about a year into job searching, when I started feeling financial pressure and frustration. I didn't want my full-time job to be looking for a job. My search wasn't looking like it was going anywhere in the foreseeable future, especially out in Silicon Valley. If you're a computer scientist or an engineer, there are jobs available, but I couldn't find a lot out here not in that space.

I started thinking, what am I good at? What do I know? What are all the pieces that I could put together? What problem can I identify that needs to be solved? That came together pretty quickly, and I launched two companies — Khaos Holdings, a strategic risk-intelligence company, and TeenAegis, a child-safety intelligence business, in January.

We're raising capital, and if the capital comes in, that will be the end of my job search. If the capital doesn't come in, then I'll keep searching — but I've decided that whatever I do will be adjacent to the problem I'm trying to solve now.

One good thing came out of the 2 years since my last job

Being out of work for two years shifted my retirement timeline eight to 10 years from digging into savings. However, since my job search started, I've really homed in on what I want to do with the rest of my career.

The journey I went on was a little bit of a midlife crisis. I asked myself, "What's my purpose in life?" as opposed to "What job do I want to have?" and then identified what skill set could bring me to that.

What led me to where I am was really thinking through questions like: What are all the issues that matter to me? What legacy do I want to leave? How do I want to think about my future for the next 10 or 15 years? How do I want to show up every day?

In the beginning, I was going to apply to anything that I could qualify for that would get me some money. Now I'm not going to do that because I don't think that's going to actually be fulfilling or make me happy. My sense of stability has required a deliberate reframe — from "security comes from a salary" to "security comes from what I've built and what I know."

I'm determined to make this work, but I also realize it may not

The hardest thing is maintaining a positive attitude day after day. If my company doesn't work out, then it's not like I can stop trying.

Taking mental health breaks is important because it's overwhelming, lonely, and hard. You lose your sense of self-worth when you're in this position; people look at you like, "Oh, you're the person who's still looking for a job." So it's hard to continue to put yourself out there.

Still, I do believe there's light at the end of the tunnel. It's just the question of how long the tunnel is.

Do you have a story to share about navigating your career in your 50s? If so, please reach out to the editor, Manseen Logan, at mlogan@businessinsider.com.

• Mihirkant Upadhyaya has a Ph.D. and more than 10 years of experience at Intel.
• But at age 41, he embarked on gaining another degree to level up in his career.
• Upadhyaya says that doing an MBA equips him with skills that AI lacks.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Mihirkant Upadhyaya, 42, who works at Intel and lives in Oregon. The following has been edited for length and clarity. Business Insider has verified his employment and education.

After studying computer engineering for my bachelor's, I pivoted into physics.

Two master's degrees and a Ph.D. in nanoscale science and engineering later, I got my dream job in the semiconductor industry at Intel in 2015.

As my career evolved, I realized I also wanted to do an MBA to step up my game.

My Ph.D. gave me relevant skills to take on the workforce

During my Ph.D., I focused on a semiconductor manufacturing technology called EUV lithography. I was excited to work at Intel because it does both chip design and manufacturing, so I knew I'd get a good overview of the chip-making process.

You don't need a Ph.D. to work in semiconductors, as there are so many areas outside the lab you can work in, like finance and legal.

On a personal level, though, having a Ph.D. helped me feel prepared to step into the workforce. It gave me discipline and the ability to be comfortable with ambiguity. My research mindset and technical background gave me the confidence to take ownership of outcomes and tasks.

There were definitely moments where I had self-doubt doing a Ph.D. You watch your peers go on to earn big bucks after their bachelor's and master's while you live on a modest stipend. However, the experience shaped me into who I am. I'd say I'm more patient, sharper, and more resilient.

I reached a stage where I felt I needed more education to thrive in my job

After about five years in research and development at Intel, I moved into supply chain roles, which have involved managing relationships and negotiating contracts. At this point, I realized I was missing certain skills.

My current role has a greater emphasis on executive communication and financial analysis. When I presented to an executive team, my manager had to step in on a number of occasions to get the room to respond, making what I was saying more high-level using business-driven terms. I also didn't quite understand certain things when I worked with the finance teams on contract negotiations.

To step up my game, I started a two-year hybrid MBA course in September 2025, alongside my full-time job. It was energizing to get back to the classroom at age 41.

I take one week off a quarter to do in-person sessions, and the rest of the time I'm doing online learning three days a week. My company is partly funding this, which is useful since MBAs can carry a $100,000 price tag.

By the time I've finished my MBA, I'll have done nine years of postgraduate study, investing an estimated $100,000 into that education, aside from scholarships and tuition waivers. Without question, it's been worth it. I haven't pursued the degrees to accumulate credentials, but to serve my career at various stages of my life. The MBA is addressing a concrete skills gap I identified after years in my industry.

I believe higher education is helping me become more irreplaceable in the age of AI

The AI boom made me take a hard look at what I bring to the table. I saw that some of what I did could eventually be automated. That realization was humbling.

Instead of trying to compete with what AI is already good at, I wanted to strengthen the areas where I knew it fell short. AI is great at processing and analyzing information. It has scale and speed, but it lacks the truly insightful judgment that a person can gain from years of learning a skill.

In my previous role at Intel, I found that AI couldn't tell me how to troubleshoot issues involving new or custom-made equipment because the context was so unique to my situation.

Meanwhile, in my current role, while AI could probably help me generate financial models, it can't read the room, build relationships, or have synergy with another person. My MBA course benefits me in this regard because we do lots of group activities, even online through Zoom, where we can interact with each other.

I think that in the age of AI, finding a field you really care about, becoming an expert in it, and staying curious to keep learning can help you become irreplaceable.

Intel declined to comment in response to a request from Business Insider.

• PHP, the open-source computer programming language, had two major vulnerabilities exposed.
• Yonaton Keller woke on Wednesday to panicked messages about the two PHP vulnerabilities.
• He shares three steps you can take to protect your website.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Yonaton Keller, a 46-year-old product manager at Zafran Security, based in Tel Aviv. His words have been edited for length and clarity.

When I woke up at 6:30 a.m. on Wednesday, I had multiple messages from around 4:45 a.m. alerting me that two vulnerabilities in the PHP programming language had been disclosed.

I immediately understood that this was a very serious situation.

Websites run different versions of PHP, and it's estimated that around 70% of websites worldwide use it. This isn't the first time PHP vulnerabilities have been found, but these ones require essentially no authentication on the attacker's part.

It's a very tricky situation. If it were a year and a half ago, nobody would have really responded to this so urgently. But this might be one of the first major incidents of its kind in this AI era, and the cycle of how attackers operate and how we typically respond is broken.

AI enhances detection and response times, but it also means that any limited-technical person could exploit these vulnerabilities within minutes.

My team was very concerned and had to act fast

I'm based in Israel, so when it was 6:30 a.m., my time, it was the middle of the night in the US. This time gap worked in our team's favor, as we had time to figure out what was going on before our customers woke up.

PHP is an open-source computer programming language used to create websites and web applications. It's such a widely used programming language that we immediately understood that every one of our customers, which includes major corporations and businesses, would likely be affected by this.

With bugs or critical flaws in the infrastructure, like the two that were found in PHP, exploitation is actually quite easy, especially if you use AI agents. That was the first thing we understood: even completely unskilled attackers can use these vulnerabilities to take down sites.

The PHP Foundation said it would disclose the details of the vulnerabilities and release a fix for newer versions of the language around 5 p.m. Israel time. But some details had already been informally disclosed on an online forum. The post was deleted minutes afterward, but screenshots spread around the internet quite quickly in unofficial forums.

So, my team and I dropped everything else and spent all day on Wednesday gathering informal information to see whether we could mitigate the risk of exploitation before an official fix was released.

How to tell if you're at risk

The first step people can take to figure out if they're impacted is to look at their websites and web applications, and try to understand where PHP is involved. You can also assume that most, if not all, of them will use PHP in some way, unless you have very basic HTML-based pages.

The second step would be to look at what vulnerability scanners online are telling you. Tenable, Qualys, and Rapid7 are usually the big three for releasing detection rules and actually detecting the vulnerability. In this case, these vulnerabilities have caused such widespread panic worldwide that they were quick to respond. This is also a way to understand the exact vulnerabilities in your internet-facing assets.

After taking these steps, immediately look online to upgrade your website to the current PHP version. It's quite easy to upgrade that, and it's free. There are some technical steps to do after the fix, so you might need a tech guy to implement them. If you don't update your PHP version, the impact on your business and website can be very, very serious.

Some people are also fully taking their sites offline, and I think that can be the right call if you have evidence that you are being targeted. However, 70% of the internet can't and shouldn't be taken offline just because those sites have some vulnerabilities. It's an emergency step to take if you have evidence of potential exploitation, but it can't be a step taken by everyone.

This was not just about attackers disrupting your website or web application; it was about them taking control of your server, stealing sensitive documents, moving inside your network, and then carrying out malicious operations, such as deploying ransomware or other actions they intended.

The situation has calmed down, but my cybersecurity team is still very concerned

Things have calmed down a bit since Wednesday, but we're still very, very concerned. Patching 70% of worldwide websites doesn't take a minute or two.

Hours after the fix was disclosed by the PHP Foundation, there were already tons of exploitation attempts popping up online. Attackers are getting quicker. I think that in this AI era, when in a matter of minutes, many attackers can attack, you don't have the time you used to.

The whole traditional process of scoping the attack surface, establishing a remediation plan, then calling a guy who's going to be responsible for this remediation plan, et cetera, is broken.

For a long period of time, organizations were investing a lot in what we call post-compromise scenarios. I think the AI era of cybersecurity will involve a lot more security investments in the pre-compromise realm, so defenses can be pre-built and ready for attacks in situations like this.

• George Brett Olson is one of a set of comedians who've called out AI accounts for ripping off their work.
• Olson said he was upset with Meta for allowing the situation to persist on its platforms.
• Instagram's top exec said the platform is invested in promoting original content and would look into the issue.

This as-told-to essay is based on an interview with George Brett Olson, one of several comedians who have lately called out AI accounts for ripping off their jokes. It's been edited for length and clarity. Instagram head Adam Mosseri said he would look into what could be done about the issue and that the platform was invested in driving traffic to original content.

I started doing stand-up in 2021 after getting burned out from being a winemaker. I'd been doing live shows, and this joke I made about, ironically, AI stealing jobs went viral. The whole joke was about AI stealing jobs and people still blaming immigrants, which is very silly when the most powerful people were saying, "We're literally coming to take all your jobs."

Then a friend sent me the video of this lady doing the joke. He's like, "AI is for real, for real, stealing your jokes." It was basically me, in my clothes, but it's a 42-inch butt. It's just the pornification of women online. It was very strange.

I'd been doing that joke for a year. I thought of it after working out with my buddy, and we were talking, walking. It takes a lot of work to get a joke stage-ready. It's a lot of repetition, tweaking, driving from place to place to perform. Comedy's not easy. So it's pretty sad to see it happen, especially when the AI comedians who are stealing jokes have more followers than the people they're stealing from.

I asked the account behind the joke if she was real. She said yes. Then I asked, "Did someone help you do this?" And she just left me on read. She also left a comment saying, "Sorry, won't happen again," and removed a bunch of videos.

I've had a bunch of followers try to report it. Adam Mosseri, the head of Instagram, replied and basically said, "Not all AI's bad. We don't know how we're going to stop it, but people shouldn't be able to steal. Seems like we should do something about that."

[This was Mosseri's exact comment: "I don't think it's practical for us to try and ban AI content from the platform. It's gonna be harder and harder to identify, and it's not all bad content (though yes, there is plenty of slop). But we are very invested in trying to drive more traffic to original content creators, and if an AI creator is ripping off content wholesale, it would be good for us to work out what we can do about that. I'm not sure what it would be, but I'll make sure to talk to the team and look into it."]

I blame Meta, not the AI

I don't blame someone for stealing. That's just someone trying to make a buck with the tools they have available. We want to hold people responsible that do not have the mechanisms of power because we can't hold an institution accountable.

I feel demoralized more by Meta's response. The language that's coming from all of them is that we're powerless, and this is inevitable, and there's nothing we can do. 
And it's just not true. And you just have to sit, be powerless, which is demoralizing.

As a comedian, you just want to sell tickets to your shows, engage with live people. That's why most of us post on social media — so people see that you're funny so they come to your live shows. I do live shows every week.

If we flood the internet with agents, and we don't know the difference anymore between what's real and what's not, this could be the death of the internet. Hopefully more people come to live shows. Because the one thing about AI comedians is: You can't see them live.

• Nick Woodhead said he went 48 hours without sleep while helping patch a major website vulnerability.
• The CTO said that with security problems piling up, October feels like "the month of hell" for tech.
• Because AI makes it easier to find and exploit security gaps, Woodhead expects more disruption.

This is an as-told-to essay based on a conversation with Nick Woodhead, founder of the AI company GPTree and chief technology officer at Rothco and Compubox. He spoke with Business Insider on Thursday to share how he's responded to vulnerabilities in the PHP programming language that could affect the majority of the world's websites. The following has been edited for brevity and clarity.

It's always a nightmare when these things happen. Since Tuesday evening, I haven't slept. It's coming close to 48 hours working on this. I'm a CTO, but I also run an agency for multiple clients and have my own company with my own product. So, balancing my time to get everything updated — it's just been exhausting.

About 70% of the internet runs on a programming language called PHP. I'm actively involved within the PHP community itself, so I did get a warning on Tuesday evening regarding the vulnerability and the fact that it was already being addressed by the PHP team. That gave me a head start.

I have some teams offshore, so I was able to jump on that with them.

It's not just applying the patches. It's making sure that nothing was already exposed. We already had infrastructure in place to easily deploy patches, but it still requires a good amount of manual involvement.

I knew that as soon as I walked into the office on Wednesday, I'd have to have my teams jump on this. They were already waiting for the patches to be released.

People are willing to help

One of the biggest headaches, especially on the client side, is that we have a lot of legacy systems, which are running on older versions of PHP that are no longer supported, and official patches are not going to be produced. For those, we ultimately had to come up with other plans. For example, taking sites temporarily offline or moving them behind VPNs.

Eventually, because it's an open-source community, those patches have already been backported, or implemented, by the community. So now we're shuffling back to some of those older systems to get them patched.

That's one of the nice things about PHP. There's such a vast community of people all willing to roll up their sleeves and jump in and help.

Even though I've been in leadership for the last 10 years, I've never taken my hand off the pulse in terms of being connected with the code and the infrastructure. So, I've been hands-on with the development and infrastructure teams to help make sure these issues are resolved. We've been reviewing logs and looking for any potential signatures of a breach that this vulnerability exposed.

The month of hell

It's also meant keeping up to speed with the latest news that's coming out and what other people are finding. We're in a position now where we feel comfortable and safe, but there are new vulnerabilities in the coding tool Node.js. We have some Node services, so now we're looking at how that potentially affects us. October just seems like the month of hell from a technology perspective.

I don't think there is an end in sight with the advancements in AI. For all the positives we get from it, there are a whole bunch of negatives, and this is a perfect example.

OpenAI has already stated that they found many more of these types of vulnerabilities that, thankfully, haven't been leaked. Over the coming months, they are either going to be patches or this information is going to get leaked in the same way and cause the same kind of panic.

I don't think we're at the end of the road yet. There's going to be a lot more to come.

• Tiffany Tang founded DrinkFolks after a transformative journey across Asia in 2023 and 2024.
• Tang's layoff in 2023 led her to Bali, where she decided to extend her 30-day trip to over a year.
• DrinkFolks, inspired by Tang's travels, supports women-led farms and brings jamu to the US market.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Tiffany Tang, the 30-year-old founder of DrinkFolks. It has been edited for length and clarity.

I'm the founder and CEO of DrinkFolks, which brings jamu, a 1,300-year-old Indonesian herbal remedy, to the US as a prebiotic root tonic.

For the first two years of my career, I was an assistant director at a gallery owned by the first female fine arts dealer in America. From 2017 to 2021, I worked at Christie's International Real Estate in marketing and communications roles.

For the next year, I was a senior communications manager at CSM Sport & Entertainment before taking on a similar role at a fintech company that helped millions of Americans sustainably build their credit scores through rewards.

I felt positively about that job, but I was laid off in May 2023

I was grateful to work there. We were doing big things, and I really learned what it was like to be at a mission-driven company.

The most interesting thing about my layoff was how incredibly calm I felt upon hearing the news. Our CMO told me first, and she was a friend, my college professor, and an executive I admire and respect.

When she told me, I said I didn't blame her, and this was a time for a reset. Turns out, the layoff was the best thing that could've ever happened to me.

A few weeks after my layoff, I booked a one-way ticket to Bali

For a long time, my self-worth was my net worth — my title, my salary, my career trajectory. When the layoff hit, I lost my sense of self. Reflecting afterward, all I could think was: who am I without the high-paying job?

A few weeks earlier, I had watched the movie "Eat, Pray, Love." When the layoff came, something in me said that this was my moment. I opened Kayak, found a one-way ticket to Bali for around $1,000, and booked it. Bali felt approachable and warm.

What was supposed to be a 30-day reset changed the course of my life

I originally planned to travel in Southeast Asia for a month but ended up staying from June 2023 through August 2024.

My awakening happened on day three. One of the first things I did in Bali was a Panchakarma, a full-body Ayurvedic detox at a retreat in Ubud. There was an optional silent day; one of the first times in my life I rooted and looked inward.

Sitting with my journal, I knew I had to stay. I was still negotiating my severance, so I did the math: my savings, my investments, what each month would cost. When my severance came through a few weeks later, it jump-started the journey.

The deeper turning point was Hong Kong

Everyone I met understood me on an indescribable level. It was the only time in my life I was speaking Cantonese to people outside my family, reconnecting with my heritage. By the time I came home for the holidays, I had decided: I was moving to Asia.

The spark for the company was the women I met. Across Indonesia and Southeast Asia, I sat with women quietly building something of their own. I wanted to help these women build generational wealth for their families. I built DrinkFolks as a way to sustainably invest in them — 3% of every sale goes to women-led farms and nonprofits across Southeast Asia through our FolksFund — while supporting health stateside by bringing ancient wisdom into people's homes.

I started the company in January 2024, took every jamu class I could find in Bali, visited the source of jamu in Yogyakarta, and reformulated recipes in my Hong Kong kitchen.

By October 2024, I was back in the US, working with California food scientists to scale up my home-tested recipe. We launched in NYC in October 2025. Today, we're in 70+ stores across the US.

Living in Southeast Asia made the math work

My salary before the layoff was $160,000 a year, plus equity. When I set off, I had roughly $14,000 between savings and severance — my spreadsheet calculated 4.6 months of runway — and I felt comfortable investing that in myself.

I budgeted like it was my job. I tracked my actual spending obsessively for the first four and a half months and came in at roughly $7,700 total.

All-in, I averaged about $1,300 to $2,300 a month, including flights, lodging, food, everything. My money stretched furthest in Cambodia and least in Hong Kong, which was financially similar to New York City. For comparison: my overhead, including my mortgage, maintenance, electricity, and WiFi in New York today is about $2,500 a month.

In terms of cost of living comparisons, here's my breakdown

Healthcare was the biggest surprise, in the best way. I got into a motorcycle accident on the Pakse Loop in Laos, and seven stitches cost me around seven dollars, including painkillers and a week of antibiotics.

Cambodia was the best value. It's the most adventurous, outdoorsy country I visited, and I didn't want to explore alone, so I stayed in hostels for as little as $6 a night — partly a budget move, mostly a way to meet people. It's also where I met my first fellow Americans of the entire trip.

Hong Kong was the opposite — groceries and eating out gave me real sticker shock. I softened it with a genuine energy exchange: I moved in with a college friend and threw dinner parties several times a week, cooking meals for them in exchange for a place to stay. It was worth every dollar — I met some of my truest friends and future business partners there.

The layoff was honestly the best thing that ever happened to me

It gave me the confidence to build DrinkFolks, a better sense of my heritage, and a version of myself I'm proud of. I've learned to never say never, but right now, I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.

My advice is to use your layoff as your launchpad. Things happen for you, not in spite of you. If you have even the slightest chance to live in that moment for yourself — for me, that was travel — take it as a gift and a blessing, not a crisis to survive.

Treat budgeting as freedom, not constraint. My money stretched so much further than I imagined. Clear parameters gave me the space to figure out who I am outside my job.