A millennial who moved from the South to Montreal says the quality of life is great but that he wants to return to his home state of Texas.
Dexter Linton
A millennial moved from the South to Montreal in 2015 to "get cultured" and attend graduate school.
He said food, safety, healthcare, and quality of life are the biggest perks of living in Montreal.
But he said he wants to move back to Texas for the weather, lower cost of living, and his family.
If you ask Dexter Linton, there aren't many downsides to living in Montreal. But it might not be enough to keep him there.
The 33-year-old sales professional grew up in Arlington, Texas, attended college in Kansas, and then landed a post-graduate internship in Georgia, he told Business Insider via email. In 2015, he decided to move to Montreal on a student visa to pursue a Master's degree in sports business management.
In addition to attending graduate school, Linton said one of the main reasons he moved to Montreal was to "get cultured" and experience something different. The city didn't disappoint him in this regard.
"It's extremely cultural, great food scene, safe, bilingualism is an asset," he said.
But Linton always planned to move back to Texas someday, and he said his feelings haven't changed.
In recent years, millions of Americans have moved south. Between July 2022 and 2023, South Carolina, Florida, and Texas were the three fastest-growing states by population in the nation. Business Insider has spoken with several people who've relocated to the South in recent years, both from other regions of the US and Canada. Weather, lower cost of living, and job opportunities were among the reasons they made their moves.
To Linton, both Montreal and Texas have their pros and cons.
Montreal has better healthcare and quality of life, but Texas has nicer weather and a lower cost of living
While Montreal's culture initially drew him to the city, Linton said there are several more reasons he and his wife might want to raise their family there rather than in Texas.
While lower housing costs, for example, have drawn some people to the Lone Star State, the demand uptick associated with a booming population has caused home prices to spike in recent years. Texas still has the perk of no state income tax.
Ultimately, Linton said being closer to his family — many of them still live in Texas — is a big reason he wants to move back someday. However, some of his wife's family lives in Montreal.
"You make your money in the US, and you get out before it's too late"
The timing of Linton's move back to the US is very uncertain. He said it would be difficult to relocate his family given his children are young, but that he hopes to move back sometime over the next decade.
In hindsight, Linton said he regrets moving to Montreal as early in his life as he did.
"If I knew what I knew today, I would have established myself in Texas, while making frequent trips to Montreal to visit my wife's family instead of vice versa," he said.
Linton recalled the advice of a friend, who told him, "You make your money in the US, and you get out before it's too late." Linton said the friend was alluding to strong economic opportunities in the US but insufficient support for older Americans — compared to some other countries — to help pay for healthcare costs in retirement.
"I wish we lived in Texas now and moved to Canada later in life," Linton said.
Have you recently moved to a new state or country and are willing to share your story? If so, reach out to this reporter at jzinkula@businessinsider.com.
Viewership for this year's NCAA basketball championship tournaments paints a clear picture of this evolving trend as the audience for the women's final game surpassed the men's final for the first time. There is also evidence of this shift in other areas, including merchandise sales and even the WNBA.
The 2024 women's NCAA championship game between the University of Iowa and the University of South Carolina drew 18.9 million viewers, according to the media audience measurement firm Nielsen. That was 28% more than the 14.8 million viewers for the men's matchup between Purdue University and the University of Connecticut.
The year-to-year ratings can be influenced by which teams and players are participating. However, using data from Nielsen and Sports Media Watch, we can see that the shift in popularity has been building for years — starting slowly in the late 2010s, right before COVID-19, and picking up speed this decade.
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In 2015 and 2016, the men's championship game averaged 23 million viewers, nearly eight times the size of the women's final, with an average of 3 million. Over the next three years, the TV audience for the women's final grew by 23% to an average of 3.7 million.
In the first two years following the cancellation of the 2020 NCAA basketball championships due to the COVID-19 pandemic, the women's final kept up momentum, growing by an average of 27%.
In 2023 and 2024, the women's game reached new levels, surpassing the men's championships thanks to the surging star power of some of the biggest names in the sport. That includes players likeIowa's Caitlin Clark — who appeared in both finals — and Louisiana State University's Angel Reese in 2023. Additionally, the University of South Carolina coach Dawn Staley this season.
Women's basketball popularity goes beyond championship game ratings
We have seen other evidence of women's college basketball's emerging dominance in the sports landscape.
According to data provided to Business Insider by ticket marketplace StubHub, there was more demand for the women's three Final Four games than the men's, with sales surging 20% faster for the women's games than the men's once the teams were determined.
In some cases, sale prices for the women's tickets were twice the cost of men's games.
On the eve of the Final Four matchups, tickets to the women's championship game had an average sale price of $370, compared to $180 for the men's final, according to StubHub. The cost for a ticket that admitted a fan to the Final Four and the championship was $700 for the women and $540 for the men.
Meanwhile, merchandise sales related to women's college basketball are also soaring.
And, in November, when Nike announceditwould be selling the college basketball jerseys of active players for the first time, three of the four inaugural athletes were women, including Clark, the University of Connecticut's Paige Bueckers, and freshman Juju Watkins of the University of Southern California. The only men's player was Bronny James from the University of Southern California, the son of LeBron James.
JuJu Watkins celebrates with USC fans following a win during the 2024 NCAA Women's Basketball Tournament.
Wally Skalij/Getty Images
We are also seeing evidence that the surge in the popularity of women's college basketball is also being felt at the next level, the WNBA.
The league announced record levels of popularity for the 2023 season in terms of TV viewership, attendance, and digital engagement. The growth of the TV audience was especially notable, as the WNBA's regular season saw a 21% increase compared to 2022.
After Clark was drafted with the first pick in the WNBA draft on April 15 by the Indiana Fever, her jersey was sold out in most sizes on Fanatics in the first hour following the announcement, according to Darren Rovell, founder of collectible media site Cllct.
The influence of NIL is being felt in women's sports
However, another factor could be the emergence of name, image, and likeness (NIL) deals, in which college athletes can be compensated for endorsements and merchandise sales.
In addition to the increased exposure of star athletes to a broader audience, many women college stars may be enticed to stay in college longer and grow their star power, saidBruce B. Siegal, a partner in the entertainment and sports practice group at the law firm Greenspoon Marder. The firm also counsels and represents the Anchor Impact Fund, a NIL collective that works with athletes at Vanderbilt University.
"I think that for a lot of athletes, it may take the pressure off to feel like you've got to go pro early," Siegal told Business Insider. "Why not continue in college knowing that you can earn revenue and help support yourself, help support your family, and most importantly, graduate and get the education."
While the men's tournament still commands significant viewership, the rise in popularity of the women's tournament signals a promising future for women's basketball at all levels. As more fans tune in to watch the women's game, it creates a platform for female athletes to shine on a national stage and inspires future generations of young women to pursue their athletic dreams.
Have you recently spent a lot of money to attend a women's sports event? Reach out to this reporter at cgaines@businessinsider.com.
A combination of wage and labor inflation pushed fast-food prices up during the pandemic.
Jonathan Knowles/Getty Images
Some diners now think fast food is a "luxury" as prices creep up, a California franchisee said.
A combination of wage and labor inflation increased fast-food prices during the pandemic.
Restaurants in California are raising their prices again to offset the state's $20 fast-food worker wage.
A California franchisee has warned that some of his customers think fast food is becoming a "luxury" as restaurants increase prices to cover the state's new $20 minimum wage for fast-food workers.
Brian Hom, who owns two branches of smoothie and Acai bowl chain Vitality Bowls in San Jose, told Business Insider that the price hikes could be scaring off diners.
"I've had some customers say: 'the cost of going out is so high now, I'm looking to buy my own ingredients and make my own food at home because going out to a fast food has become a luxury' versus 'hey, I want to go get something to eat now,'" Hom said.
"They have to think twice: 'Am I going to be able to afford it or not?'" he continued.
The new wage in California comes amid rising prices of fast food across the US more generally. A combination of wage and food inflation pushed prices up during the pandemic, and some diners say they're cutting down on how much fast food they eat because it's no longer affordable.
Hom said that his two stores had already changed their prices twice this year: He increased them by about 5% in January, when San Jose's minimum wage went up from $17 to $17.55 an hour, and then by between 5% and 10% on April 1, when California's fast-food worker wage came into force.
Other fast-food franchisees have also expressed concerns that raising prices to absorb California's new wage could push customers' willingness to pay to the limits.
"The appetite that my customers have for price increases is not unlimited," Scott Rodrick, a McDonald's franchisee with 18 restaurants in northern California, previously told BI.
Franchisees worry that some diners will turn to casual-dining chains like Chili's and Applebee's instead, some of which may offer a sit-down meal for only a few dollars more than fast-food restaurants. Some franchisees and analysts say they also expect people to buy more groceries, too.
"Fast food is generally supposed to be a less expensive alternative than going out … to a sit-down restaurant," Tony Nix, a 55-year-old cybersecurity consultant in California who says he typically eats out three times a week, told BI in March.
"But it's not becoming that at all. It's becoming as expensive, if not more," he said.
Is fast food no longer affordable? Email this reporter at gdean@insider.com.
On Wednesday, Gallup and the Lumina Foundation released a new report on the cost of college and how high education costs impact students' decisions to stay in school and make major life choices.
Based on surveys conducted from October andNovember 2023 with over 13,000 adults aged 18 to 59, the report found that cost is the "top reason" students currently enrolled in school consider dropping out. And 85% of respondentswho weren't enrolled in a programsaid the cost of a degree was the reason.
While six in 10 students currently enrolled in college said financial aid or scholarships are a "very important" factor in remaining in school, the student debt that often follows them post-graduation can significantly impact their ability to progress financially. For example, per the survey, 71% of currently and previously enrolled student-loan borrowers reported "delaying at least one significant life event because of their student debt," the report said.
Specifically, 29% of them delayed buying a home, 28% of them delayed buying a car, 15% of them delayed having children, and 13% of them delayed getting married.
And delaying life events didn't discriminate by student-loan balance, as the report found: 98% of overall respondents with balances of $75,000 or more reported pushing off those events, with 63% of respondents with balances less than $10,000 reporting the same.
"Especially given how many people have loans and how much [in] loans they have, it's really scary to me … that it will be hanging over a lot of people's heads for maybe their entire lives. I think it's cool that people are getting a college education, but I do worry about the financial repercussions," a currently enrolled student said in the report.
Business Insider has previously spoken to a range of borrowers who have struggled to pay off their student loans, having to make sacrifices in other parts of their lives. For example, one borrower told BI that he was unable to afford rent on top of his monthly student-loan payments, so he moved into a school bus to save money.
"While college was a great way for me to figure some things out, it was a really expensive way for me to do that," he said. "I wouldn't do that again. I would have gone into the trades. The student-loan debt is by far my biggest regret — it's too much money to let somebody borrow at 18 years old."
Many borrowers are also struggling to adjust to an additional monthly student-loan bill after the over three-year pause on payments during the pandemic ended in the fall. However, President Joe Biden's Education Department has implemented a range of targeted relief measures to ease the burden on borrowers, including a new income-driven repayment plan with a shortened timeline to loan forgiveness.
The Education Department is also in the process of crafting its broader version of student-loan forgiveness after the Supreme Court struck down Biden's first plan. The draft text of the rules was released on Tuesday, and the department expects to implement some of the relief as early as this fall.
Have you delayed a major life milestone because of your student debt? How has the burden impacted you? Share your story with this reporter at asheffey@insider.com.
Americans are discovering that their income can stretch much further in other countries, allowing them to save, pay down debts, and get ahead.
Juanjo Gasull for BI
Amelia Basista and JP Stonestreet call 2015 their "year from hell" — the final straw that sent them packing to South America. Stonestreet was 43 and working as a self-employed web developer when he began experiencing strange nerve pain in his hands, feet, and legs. After a frightening afternoon when he found himself struggling to walk, he got diagnoses of congenital spinal stenosis and degenerative disc disease, conditions that required two major spinal surgeries to correct.
During the nearly yearlong recovery that followed, Stonestreet was unable to work. Basista left her job as a regional sales manager to take a new sales role that allowed her more time at home while her partner recovered, but it came with a significant pay cut. As the couple's income plummeted, Stonestreet's insurance premiums soared to $1,200 a month.
"We realized we couldn't afford the mortgage and the car payments and everything," Stonestreet told me. "The conventional American lifestyle just wasn't in our reach anymore." The couple sold their house in Denver, but that wasn't enough to break even. Over the next year and a half, they hatched an escape plan. In 2017, the pair relocated to Cuenca, Ecuador, and continued working their old jobs remotely. Their monthly expenses dropped by 70%.
Basista and Stonestreet are part of an emerging cohort of Americans who, fed up with the cost of living at home, are seeking a better quality of life elsewhere. They swap advice on Reddit boards like AmerExit (57,000 members) and I Want Out (2 million members), consult with concierge relocation-service providers that cost a few hundred to several thousand dollars a pop, and teach others how to follow in their footsteps. They toss around terms like "geoarbitrage" (the notion of saving money by moving somewhere cheaper) and acronyms like FIRE (short for "financial independence, retire early," which is equal parts target and mantra).
Some, like Basista and Stonestreet, envision the move as the first step in a long-term plan that ends in a leisurely retirement abroad. Others are drawn to a digital-nomad lifestyle that allows them the flexibility and extra income to travel the world indefinitely on a remote paycheck. Either way, they're moving to save money for the future, to pay off debts, or to afford more of what life has to offer — all while propping up a cottage industry of companies catering to their every need.
It's tricky to know exactly how many Americans have relocated to other countries, let alone the details of when or why. But as of 2023, there were almost 161 million US passports in circulation, one for nearly half of all Americans. (A generation ago, only 10% of Americans had a passport.) The State Department estimated in 2020 that a total of 9 million US citizens lived abroad, up from an estimated 5 million in 2010 — though those numbers include dual citizens born and raised abroad. The nonprofit advocacy group American Citizens Abroad puts the figure closer to 4 million.
Americans work more, vacation less, spend more on healthcare, and die sooner than people in other high-income economies.
We do know, however, that the yearning is there. In a recent poll from Monmouth University, one-third of Americans said they'd like to settle in another country, compared with just 12% who said the same in a 1995 Gallup poll. In InterNation's 2023 survey of 12,000 expats from 172 countries, the US was the country of origin for the largest share of the expats.
The longing to move abroad will likely be unsurprising to anyone who has recently gasped over their weekly grocery bill or chipped in on an acquaintance's medical GoFundMe with a six-figure goal. The Bureau of Labor Statistics reported that the average US household's monthly expenses jumped from $5,111 in 2020 to $6,081 in 2022. In a new Financial Technology Association survey, 61% of American workers indicated they were living paycheck to paycheck.
And for what? Though there's no question that Americans enjoy a higher material standard of living than most of the world, the nation measures poorly against its wealthy Western peers on several quality-of-life indexes: Americans work more, vacation less, spend more on healthcare, and die sooner than people in other high-income economies.
These factors likely explain why some Americans are moving to countries that aren't generally considered low-cost-of-living locales. Data from the global recruitment firm Deel suggests the UK, Germany, Canada, and France are among the top seven international destinations for American job seekers. In places with universal healthcare, government-subsidized childcare, and cultures that encourage a better work-life balance, your dollar can stretch further.
Maliya Fale, a 22-year-old digital nomad and content creator from Minneapolis, had been traveling through Latin America off and on for nearly three years when, in February, she left the US for good. "I'm genuinely going crazy having to live in a toxic American capitalist society," she announced in a TikTok video titled "Moving out of America."
When we spoke in March, Fale was staying in the coastal town of Puerto Morelos, Mexico, and scoping out her next move. She said that living abroad afforded her a degree of flexibility and spontaneity that would be out of reach back home. She supports herself with remote content gigs and follows whichever adventures come her way. "The cost of America is not going to allow me to do that," she told me.
Others who have followed similar paths say they've never looked back. In November 2015, the writer Cristina Johnson packed three suitcases and boarded a one-way flight from Pennsylvania to Belize. Johnson, now 53, has a disability that makes it difficult to hold down enough work to make ends meet in the States. In Belize, where her monthly expenses are a mere $250, Johnson has been able to build a home and save thousands while earning about $1,200 a month as a content-marketing copywriter. "I could not even venture a guess on how much I've saved over the years," she told Business Insider last year, "but even if I saved a million dollars, it would not be as valuable as the mental, emotional, physical, and psychological things I have gained."
It has never been easier for Americans to test international waters — particularly in countries where greenbacks can stretch much further than they would in a typical US city. More than 50 countries offer digital-nomad visas to remote workers able to prove they have enough funds to support themselves. Combine a strong US dollar with the relative ease of obtaining remote and gig-based work through freelancing platforms such as Fiverr and Upwork, and it's no wonder that Americans of all ages are open to weighing their options abroad.
Retirement wasn't even on our radar when we were still in the US.
Among the numerous companies that have cropped up to meet the burgeoning demand is Mexico Relocation Guide, based in Austin. Founded in 2019 by the husband-and-wife duo of Mariana and Dustin Lange, the company sells relocation guidebooks geared toward Americans who are interested in retiring early or reducing their cost of living without compromising on lifestyle.
"We are very careful not to give the false idea that people are going to live like kings on pennies, because that's not the case," Mariana Lange told me. "But people do see that they can increase their quality of life for the same amount, or even a lower amount, of money." She said that while some farther-flung destinations offer greater bang per buck than Mexico, her clientele of mostly 40-plus Americans see the country's relative proximity to their family and friends back home as a fair trade-off. Some are even able to keep seeing their primary-care providers in the US after they move. Since the pandemic lockdowns have subsided, Lange's business has boomed.
Business owners in other arenas have similarly taken note of the expanding global expat population. Mark Zoril, the North Carolina-based founder of the financial-planning firm PlanVision, began working with expat clients eight or nine years ago, helping them manage cross-border assets and save for the future while living abroad. Today, thanks in part to a high-profile endorsement from Andrew Hallam, the author of "Millionaire Expat," these clients account for a significant proportion of his company's business.
Zoril said most of his clients planned to remain abroad indefinitely, largely because of the high cost of returning. "They just haven't accumulated a lot of assets during their working years," he told me. "And so for them to come back to the States would be a challenge." He identified Central America, Portugal, and Spain as particularly popular destinations because of their relatively low costs of living and mild climates.
Though he hasn't noticed a change in the demographic makeup of his expat clientele — people in their 30s and 40s who don't have large savings and are working to support themselves — Zoril said that in recent years these customers have generally become savvier about researching and weighing their options, learning online about "where they can live inexpensively, how they can access cash, and how they can invest." He added: "They can join social communities with other people that are also living this way. They have a better support network of people they can reach out to and learn from before they go."
Expat life does come with its share of potential downsides. A lower cost of living often means significantly reduced earnings, which can impede someone's financial ability to return home. Cultural differences and language barriers add a layer of complexity and a risk of alienation.
For the people whose towns and neighborhoods have recently transformed into expat hot spots, the dynamic is especially fraught. On a visit to Lisbon this February, I was shocked by the relatively few locals I saw in the city's center, where swaths of housing have been gobbled up by foreign investors and absorbed into a short-term-rental market catering to international tourists, expat settlers, and waves of digital nomads. With residential-property costs up by nearly 30% over the past five years, both old and new residents of the Portuguese capital are feeling the squeeze.
Other expat destinations pose challenges of their own. Amid political unrest in Ecuador, Stonestreet and Basista swapped their adopted home for a semi-nomadic "slow travel" lifestyle in Europe. They don't regret leaving America, though. From their temporary perch in Tirana, Albania, the couple told me via WhatsApp that their only regret about moving abroad was not doing it sooner. Within three years of leaving the US, they said, they were able to pay off $60,000 in consumer debt and double down on saving for retirement.
"Retirement wasn't even on our radar when we were still in the US," Stonestreet told me. "We just assumed we'd work till we dropped. But life is short. Tomorrow's not guaranteed."
Kelli María Korducki is a journalist whose work focuses on work, tech, and culture. She's based in New York City.
Basant Shenouda said her toxic job taught her what to look for in a career and company.
Courtesy of Basant Shenouda
Basant Shenouda, 27, is one of LinkedIn's biggest career content creators.
She once quit a toxic job after less than a year in a tough market and with nothing else lined up.
The experience taught her to continuously look for better job opportunities and work-life balance.
This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Basant Shenouda, a 27-year-old implementation consultant at LinkedIn from Dublin. It's been edited for length and clarity.
I'm a Gen-Zer and one of LinkedIn's biggest career content creators. I create content on topics like job hunting, promotions, and skill development, and I onboard LinkedIn's biggest clients as a technical project manager.
But before I got this role, I had to maneuver my career and leave some toxic jobs and work environments. One particular job made me incredibly depressed — I realized it wasn't a good fit for me in the first two to three weeks, and I quit in less than a year.
At the beginning of my career journey, I tried many different things. I was trying to learn about the different industries but also find what I was good at and what I liked. I especially liked working at technology and lifestyle companies, as I found their marketing and sales strategies really interesting.
One job was particularly hard because of the management style. I was expected to work constantly from 9 to 5 in the office without breaks, with management overworking me and still thinking I wasn't productive enough. I didn't feel like management cared about my career development or well-being.
I wanted to be able to work on impactful projects, and I especially sought mentorship and support toward my career aspirations. I was still figuring out what that meant, but I had a lot of ambition to prove myself. It was important to me not only to have a workload that I felt supported through but also the space to be able to voice my concerns, ideas, and workload issues.
Unfortunately, it felt like the only thing that was important to the company was completing our deliverables as quickly and mechanically as possible without making any mistakes. Because of the immense workload, I was prone to making mistakes, which my managers never took well at all.
I decided to quit less than a year into the role to protect my mental and physical health and well-being
My work schedule meant constantly working with a short lunch break and being expected to work late to complete all my tasks. I didn't have time for a social life and was even too tired to try.
Ultimately, I quit after less than a year without any job lined up. I wanted to take care of myself. The toxic work environment had really impacted my self-esteem toward my career capabilities.
I was an international graduate on a short-term visa who needed a job to stay in-country, so deciding to leave added a lot of stress in a different way. But I knew I was still better off leaving and focusing on myself.
After I quit, I took a period of self-care
After I left the job, I spent time ensuring I was returning to my health basics, like eating well and spending time with my loved ones. I took a six-month break to focus on myself and some personal projects.
During this period of self-care, I started my venture to coach other Gen-Zers. My career consulting focuses on my experience as an international student and woman of color and how I've navigated work visa processes and gotten into Big Tech.
Working for myself toward my career ambitions really helped boost my mental health and confidence again.
Here's what I recommend to others who are stuck in jobs with poor work-life balance
Timing is incredibly important. I left my problematic job during a bad job market, which greatly stressed me. Mental health is beyond important, but it's also important to have a sense of financial security during these tough times. I recommend always assessing the risks of leaving a position — especially if you don't have a backup plan.
I also recommend that workers continuously look toward future job opportunities and look at their careers as a staircase. You'll never get from point A to point B in a straight line.
Sometimes you just have to take things step by step and take on projects for your next role that'll bring you a better work-life balance.
Jeff Karp suffered from undiagnosed ADHD as a child and taught himself tricks for focused work.
lijing/Getty Images
Dr. Jeffery Karp grew up with undiagnosed ADHD, struggling to focus and answer questions in class.
Using two tactics to retrain his brain, Karp gained confidence and pursued a career in academia.
The MIT and Harvard professor shares the benefits of working in a flow state in his new book.
As a professor at Harvard Medical School and MIT, I am very lucky; I get to learn from and collaborate with some of the most innovative minds in the world of medicine, science, and technology. But I was not "supposed" to be here. No one would have predicted this for me.
Growing up with undiagnosed ADHD
When I was a kid in elementary school in rural Canada, I had the attention span of a fruit fly, and I struggled to keep up. Reading, writing, classroom discussion, and teachers' instruction — I couldn't make sense of any of it.
It wasn't just that I was distractible and my brain didn't process things in a conventional way; my mind felt completely open to just existing in the world, in a constant mind meld with the universe. It took a ton of effort for me to narrow my focus so stuff could enter, stick, and stay.
And I was an anxious kid. I couldn't relax and just be myself, feel okay as "the quirky kid" because I felt like something worse than that: an alien, a human anomaly. I realized early on that there were many things I was "supposed" to do, but none of them came naturally or seemed logical.
More troubling still was that much of it didn't feel like the right thing to do; it felt actively wrong. When a teacher asked me a question, whether on a test or in class, I typically found the question confusing and often unanswerable. The "right" answer seemed like just one of many possibilities. So, most of my school years were an exercise in trying to figure out, interpret, and fit others' expectations.
I was a puzzle for my teachers, a misfit in the conventional academic sense, and a total outcast socially. Today, with society's much greater understanding of ADHD, part of my eventual diagnosis, there are evidence-based approaches for building self-regulation skills designed for kids (and adults). But at that time and in that place, the only option was to wing it.
Sea slugs were essential in helping me retrain my brain
Over the years, I slowly gained motivation and became more persistent. I didn't know it at the time but my evolution as a learner mirrored the two fundamental concepts of how neurons change and grow — how they learn — that the neuroscientist Eric Kandel would someday identify as the basis that sea slugs and humans have in common for learning and memory: habituation and sensitization in response to repeated exposure to stimuli.
Habituation means that we become less reactive to stimuli, as you might to traffic noise outside your window. Sensitization means that our reaction is stronger, as happens when, for instance, a sound or a smell or even the thought of something becomes a trigger.
Living my own experiment, I learned to make use of both.
I discovered some basic ways to work with my brain to habituate to some stimuli (ordinary things that distracted me) and sensitize (sharpen my attention) to others to be able to reel in my wandering mind and redirect the synaptic messaging with intention. At one point, in the room where I studied there was a pinball machine next to me and a TV behind me. I learned to ignore both and used playing the pinball machine as a reward for finishing my homework.
Over time I became hyperaware of how to intentionally hijack processes in my brain this way to be less reactive or more sharply focused as needed.
The result: I was able to focus on what seemed most purposeful, then follow through and maximize impact as opportunities opened up. I tinkered and fine-tuned until I learned how to use these powerful tools to tap into the heightened state of awareness and deep engagement that I call "lit."
What is 'lit' focus
I call it "lit" for two reasons. First, "lit" aptly describes how the flash of inspiration feels—as if a bright light flipped on in the dark. Or a spark has set your thinking ablaze. When you've had an epiphany, been awestruck, or simply been super excited, you've felt that spark. Second, "lit" is how these moments appear to the scientists who study them. Inside the brain (and in the gut as well), engaged states activate neurons. In the brain, this triggers an increase in cerebral blood flow that neuroscientists can see when they use functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI).
On a monitor, this oxygenated blood lights up an otherwise gray image of the brain with yellow-orange hot spots of activity. Emerging science shows that this neural activation is associated not only with particular cognitive activity or emotions such as fear and anger but also with love, awe, happiness, fun, and "peak states," or flow.
In "lit" mode, we engage at the highest level of our abilities. We not only develop the mental muscles to stay focused, but we also build the confidence and the dexterity to riff off of new information on the fly.
We're more likely to use our critical thinking skills, which can keep us from blindly accepting what we're told, or told to believe, especially when our intuition says otherwise. We find it easier to connect with people, are more alive to the possibilities all around us, and are better able to capitalize upon them. In a stream of ever-replenishing energy, we're constantly learning, growing, creating, and iterating. We're building our capacity while doing our best work.
As I honed strategies that enabled me to activate my brain this way at will, I identified a dozen that were simple to use and never failed to open my thinking in just the way that was needed, whatever that was.
Whether it was to direct my attention or disrupt it, sharpen my focus or broaden it, do something stimulating or quiet my mind, these Life Ignition Tools (LIT) worked for me, and then for others as I shared them.
Practicing habits that let me access deep work has been integral to my success
Once I learned how to work with my neuroatypical, voraciously curious, but chaotic brain, I discovered infinite opportunity to question, create, and innovate as a bioengineer and entrepreneur on a global scale and help others do the same. These LIT tools took me from being a confused and frustrated kid, sidelined in a special ed classroom in rural Canada, to becoming a bioengineer and medical innovator elected a fellow of the National Academy of Inventors, the Royal Society of Chemistry, the American Institute for Medical and Biological Engineering's College of Fellows, the Biomedical Engineering Society, and the Canadian Academy of Engineering.
As a professor, I've trained more than 200 people, many of whom are now professors at institutions around the world and innovators in industry; published 130 peer-reviewed papers with more than 30,000 citations; and obtained more than a hundred issued or pending national and international patents. The tools also helped me cofound 12 companies with products on the market or in development.
And finally, they've been instrumental in creating a productive, supportive, and dynamic high-energy environment in my lab, which recently morphed from Karp Lab to the Center for Accelerated Medical Innovation.
Having specific tools helped a struggling kid like me
LIT worked for this kid who appeared to show no promise and the young man who remained frustrated and discouraged for many years. Though I still struggle every day in various ways, I'm grateful to be able to say that these LIT tools enabled me to meet and far exceed those dismal early expectations.
If we want breakthroughs in science and medicine, if we want successful, disruptive innovations on all fronts to support healthier communities, and if we want to cut through the noise and focus on what is most important, we must learn how to use all of the tools in nature's playbook, our evolutionary arsenal. We must shake up our thinking — not just now and then but on a daily basis.
In practice, LIT tools make it possible for us to take anything we're hardwired for — including undesirable or unhelpful behaviors and habits — and with intention, channel the energy in them to create a positive outcome. It's easier than you might think because the more you do it, the greater the rewards, the momentum, and your impact for good.
You're never too old to charge your brain this way, and most definitely no one is ever too young. In fact, LIT tools can be lifesavers for kids, as they were for me.
A Vitality Bowls franchisee in San Jose told BI how he's trying to absorb California's $20 minimum wage for fast-food workers.
Alexander Spatari/Getty Images
A franchisee told BI how he's trying to absorb California's $20 minimum wage for fast-food workers.
The Vitality Bowls franchisee in San Jose said he's put up prices and is reducing staffing.
"Right now I'm trying to size what the true impact will be," he said.
Fast-food franchisees in California are desperately trying to boost their revenues and cut their costs to absorb the impact of the state's new $20 minimum wage.
The wage, which came into effect on April 1, applies to limited-service restaurant chains with at least 60 restaurants nationwide and covers both corporate-owned locations and franchise restaurants.
As well as companies selling typical fast food like burgers, chicken, sandwiches, and pizza, the wage applies to those serving coffee, bubble tea, and pretzels.
Brian Hom, who owns two branches of smoothie and acai bowl chain Vitality Bowls in San Jose, talked to Business Insider about the measures he's taking to offset his higher payroll and ensure he remains profitable.
"Right now I'm trying to size what the true impact will be," he said. "I'm just trying to see if I'm going to be able to cover my payroll and still make a profit."
Hom said that he had put his prices up by about 5% in January — when San Jose's minimum wage went up from $17 to $17.55 an hour — and by between 5% and 10% on April 1, when the state's fast-food worker wage came into force.
"All our increases in January and April were due to wage increases," he said. "We're waiting to see if the customers will start coming in or not."
Some customers had told him that they planned to cook more at home instead as limited-service restaurant prices rose, Hom said.
Restaurants are concerned that too many price increases will deter diners — so they're also looking at other ways to cut costs, including labor.
Hom's stores have cut the number of workers on each shift down from three or four to just two, he said.
He also told BI that he has around 30 workers across his two stores and wouldn't add any more.
"We stopped hiring," he said. "We are not hiring anymore right now."
But the higher minimum wage has meant that Hom's more experienced workers have also got a boost.
"Now everybody's making 20 bucks, the assistant managers had to go up as well as the leads and the manager," he said. He declined to say how much he paid them, but noted that it was "significantly higher than the minimum wage."
Hom said that though he isn't a fan of digital order kiosks, he's considering getting some for his stores to cut labor costs. Some other Vitality Bowls locations already have them, he said.
"We've taken significant measures to optimize profitability as increased costs have arisen," Roy Gilad, CEO of Vitality Bowls, told BI in late March. He said the chain had introduced some "menu innovations" to cope with a range of rising costs, including the new minimum wage.
Hom said that the company had streamlined its menu by adding more pre-made bottled juices and cutting some items like the Detox Bowl, Energy Bowl, and Graviola Bowl to reduce how many unique ingredients each store needed to stock.
5. Closing stores
Hom warned that he may even have to consider closing his stores.
"I can't work and not make any money," he said.
Other franchisees have said the new wage made them reconsider plans to open new restaurants in California.
Are you a fast-food worker excited about the new minimum wage? Or a franchisee or restaurant manager worried about how it will affect your business? Email this reporter at gdean@insider.com.
A former McKinsey & Company associate (not pictured) shares their experience working at the consulting giant and why they left.
Abrice Cofrini/AFP via Getty Images; iStock; Rebecca Zisser/BI
This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with a former McKinsey & Company associate who worked at the company for one and a half years. They spoke on condition of anonymity due to privacy concerns. Business Insider has verified their identity and employment at McKinsey. The following has been edited for length and clarity.
I joined McKinsey as an associate in 2021. Going in, I always knew, "I'm here for a bad time, not a long time."
I knew that the work would be challenging, and I also hoped that if I stuck it out, I'd be able to build up my analytical toolkit and learn how to problem-solve really well.
But looking back, I regret the way I approached my time at McKinsey.
There was little apprenticeship
One of the things I struggled with was the lack of apprenticeship. It's supposed to be a really apprenticeship-heavy culture, but that wasn't my experience.
You're expected to start working from day one. I was there to learn, but it was a frustrating experience because no one was there to teach me. I wanted somebody to sit down with me and teach me the basic skills required for the job, like how to problem-solve for a meeting, how to wordsmith a deck, and how to fix my mistakes.
I was alone on an island while my manager drowned in her other work. I felt like I wasn't learning anything.
As a result, I heard senior-level employees commenting about how the new analysts and associates weren't good because they weren't receiving any apprenticeship.
I typically worked from 7:30 a.m. until 11:30 p.m.
As consultants, we didn't have to do any hardcore research because we had teams that did our research for us. We also had a team we could call on if we needed help with Excel, a team to make our PowerPoints pretty, and a team to set up calls with experts.
It's funny because people ask me, "You had all those researchers, so what did you do?"
My days mainly consisted of problem-solving meetings in which we'd show the partners or senior partners our decks and get their feedback, take notes, and then revise accordingly before the next meeting, which might be later that same day or the following day. Sometimes I'd have three of these meetings a day, all on different decks.
I also had to spend time doing analyses for new pages in the deck, as well as in client meetings and on calls with experts.
On a typical day, I worked from 7:30 a.m. or 8 a.m. until 11:30 p.m. And it was pedal to the metal — I didn't leave my desk, forgot to eat, and dropped tons of weight. I barely remembered to go to the bathroom. I only remembered to get up when I noticed my dog looking at me all sad.
And although we had a budget for fun work events, some people didn't like attending them because they'd still have a ton of work waiting for them when they got home.
For example, I had many team dinners where some people would call their Uber secretly underneath the table so they could get home and keep working. It kind of took the fun away.
The bar at McKinsey was much higher than at my previous consulting firm
I feel like people love to hate consultants. They say that consultants just take companies' money and don't add value. But many consulting firms get projects based on results and outcomes, and McKinsey couldn't be McKinsey without results.
I've read comments on social media that assume there are a lot of overpaid idiots at McKinsey. But there really aren't — there's an attitude of "move up or out," so people there are really good.
I got the chance to solve a lot of ambiguous problems with some really good problem-solvers. The company really goes out of its way to give clients a bespoke experience, as opposed to Big Four work which is more of a plug-and-chug into the same slide situation.
I had previously worked at another consulting firm, and my experience there compared to McKinsey was like night and day. The work at McKinsey was so much harder, and the bar was so much higher. Everything at McKinsey is just a lot more customized.
Some associate partners and partners were mean
The people at McKinsey were both the best and worst parts of my experience.
My McKinsey friends always said I got really unlucky in terms of the associate partners I had to work closely with.
Although it wasn't an everyday thing, they made some analysts and associates cry. One associate partner looked at a slide I made, began laughing hysterically, and said it was the worst slide they had ever seen. Another associate partner yelled at and made fun of people while talking about them behind their backs — and also to their faces.
But one of my favorite memories also involves the people at McKinsey. One time, an associate partner screamed at me in front of our whole team because they wrongfully thought I was going to miss a deadline — but I knew I could meet it and didn't end up missing it.
I ended up crying.
My team felt so bad for me that they rallied behind me and we all stopped working for the night. One of my coworkers went and got bottles of wine, and we all drank in the team room; it just felt like a lot of camaraderie.
I took a mental health break because I couldn't do it anymore
After about a year of working at McKinsey, I took a three-month mental health leave. It was literally driving me to the edge. I just couldn't do it anymore.
I was crying more and taking anxiety medication at a higher dosage than I had ever needed before joining. The week before I decided to leave, I was oscillating between being way too OK, and then crying, and then being way too stoic.
I shared with my development group leader (DGL), a mentor assigned by McKinsey, that I was thinking about taking short-term mental health disability leave. I wasn't even nervous about bringing this up because of how normal it seemed — I know other McKinsey employees who have also taken health breaks due to the mental toll.
Before McKinsey, I didn't even know mental health disability benefits were a thing. Now I know more than a few people who have gotten them. The mental toll, plus the workload, was crazy.
I've heard multiple people, myself included, say, "I do not get paid enough for this shit," and I genuinely believe that. I don't think that the pay was enough for what we were doing, despite the fact that I was making over $200,000 when I left.
During my break, I tried to pick up new hobbies and realized that I hated every hobby. I tried to get out of the house more but wasn't really successful because of how down I was. Sometimes, I'd have to hire a dog walker even though I was home because I just felt like I couldn't handle it. At some point, I couldn't even care for myself, so my mom came to town to care for me and my dog.
I decided to officially leave because I realized if working here caused my mental health to deteriorate, why would I stay? Why would I want to be someplace that causes me to be in such a dark place?
I regret not being more assertive when I was there
The problem with McKinsey wasn't the work — I'm used to working hard, working long hours, and being frustrated at work. I think it was really the people beating down on me and making me feel like I was never enough that really cracked me.
It's been over a year since I officially left, and I feel much better now. I'm hopping back into the job market and doing interviews. They always say that once you go to McKinsey, you can go anywhere, but the market is bad right now, and that hasn't been my experience. It's hard for me to quantify the value of having worked at McKinsey.
Overall, my time at McKinsey was a good learning experience — not so much in terms of hard analytical skills, as I didn't pick up as many of those as I had wanted, but I did learn a lot about myself and working with different kinds of people.
I wish I had been a bit more assertive while I was there. You know the saying, "Play the game, or the game plays you?" I think the game played me, and if I had been a little more willing to stand up for what I needed, like being apprenticed and standing up to the mean associate partners, it would've been much better.
Maybe if I had stood up for myself more or received more guidance, I wouldn't have gotten yelled at as much. But I also think it was going on mental health leave was inevitable, given the kind of people I ran into. I don't think there was anything I could have really done.
As I look for a new job, I'm absolutely looking for companies that care about their employees, value inclusivity, and treat everyone with respect. I'm looking for companies that value apprenticeship, and I always ask in coffee chats, "What is the apprenticeship model at your company? What is the hierarchy model at your company? What is the upward feedback model at your company?" Those are things I will always ask now.
McKinsey & Company declined a request for comment from Business Insider.
If you worked at a top consulting firm and want to share your story, email Jane Zhang at janezhang@businessinsider.com.
The Cartier Cheich is one of the most elusive timepieces in the world.
Arnold Jerocki/Getty Images
Wealth can't buy everything — even some things that have a price tag.
Some brands require luck, loyalty, and resolve before you can secure one of their status symbols.
Unless you're a notable billionaire, even money can't grant you a membership at Augusta National.
Wealth grants access to a lot, but even the wealthy can't just buy anything.
Certain privileges require more than money. Sometimes, that means being in the right place at the right time — and there are instances when your family connections matter more than your bank account.
Exclusivity isn't only reserved for the wealthy, of course, but the entries on this list can cost up to seven figures if you're lucky — or connected — enough to purchase them.
Limited memberships, strict voting panels, and scarcity make them extremely difficult to get for anyone who isn't a billionaire.
Here are five things that are hard to do even if you're considered rich.
Getting a membership at Augusta National Golf Club
The annual Masters tournament is held at the Augusta National Golf Club.
Kevin C. Cox/Getty Images
The Augusta National Golf Club is home to the sport's most anticipated tournament — the Masters. The tournament is a favorite of the rich, and wealthy golf fanatics flock to Georgia during the first full week of April to attend.
The club has a secret membership list of around 300 members. You can't just apply and pay for a membership. It's by invitation only, and you can only join when an existing member leaves or dies.
Bloomberg reported in 2015 that billionaires like Warren Buffett, Bill Gates, Stanley Druckenmiller, and others are said to be members.
Securing an apartment in this New York City co-op building
The River House sits along the East River of New York City.
Atlantide Phototravel/Getty Images
In a cul-de-sac facing New York's East River, there's a nearly 100-year-old building where residents' privacy is a top priority, and a strict board presides over applications.
The 26-floor Art Deco River House is considered one of the most exclusive places to live in New York City.
"The River House, with its old world charm, is one of the most famously discreet buildings in the city," its description on StreetEasy reads. "It is a tradition among staff and apartment owners to be protective of the building's privacy."
Residents collectively own the building and share responsibilities as a cooperative building or co-op. One of those tasks is approving or denying those hoping to score an apartment.
Getting into the building isn't as simple as being able to afford it. Richard Nixon, Joan Crawford, and Diane Keaton have all been rejected, The Real Deal reported.
Meanwhile, some of its famous residents have included Uma Thurman and Henry Kissinger.
Buying a new Hermès Birkin bag
The Birkin bag might be one of the cheaper entries on the list, but it's still hard to obtain.
iStock; Carl Juste/Miami Herald/Tribune News Service via Getty Images; Rebecca Zisser/BI
The Hermès Birkin bag is a status symbol among the wealthy and fashionable. Depending on the bag's size, color, and material, a brand-new one can cost between five and six figures.
But don't expect to walk into a department store and leave with one. Experts say that a prospective buyer must shop the rest of the Hermès catalog for a while before they might be offered a Birkin for sale.
The experts said there's no set amount you have to spend before you get the call that a Birkin bag is available for you to purchase. It's mostly a waiting game that depends on when a bag that matches your preferences becomes available and how in-demand that bag is. (The brand didn't respond to a request for comment from BI earlier this year.)
Reserving a table at Rao's in New York City
The family-owned Italian restaurant Rao's in New York is rarely offering up reservations to the public.
Google Maps
The name Rao's is probably most recognizable for its jars of pasta sauce on grocery store shelves.
The family-run business is also responsible for a handful of restaurants scattered through major cities in the US. Its original location in New York City is one of the toughest reservations to secure.
A phone call to the restaurant will prompt a message explaining that Rao's is completely booked for the rest of 2024. It's not because it's some star-studded hot spot.
There are only 10 tables, and they belong to people who Rao's co-owner Frank Pellegrino Jr. considers family. They're assigned "table rights" on specific nights, and their standing reservations are passed from generation to generation, according to Delish.
"There's weeklies, biweeklies, monthlies, and quarterlies, so in every three-month period, I see all my clients. And now I'm dealing with their children and grandchildren," Pellegrino told Town and Country in 2020.
Those with table rights are allowed to lend their tables to friends for a night or donate them to charity auctions. Some wannabe diners are willing to bid hundreds of dollars on third-party reservation apps to secure them, The New York Times reported in 2023.
Buying this Cartier watch
The only time the Cartier Cheich went up for auction was in 2022, when it fetched a $1.1 million bid.
Arnold Jerocki/Getty Images
Cartier only created four unique models of the Cheich watch, and the one that sold at auction for $1.1 million in 2022 set a record for the jewelry maker, according to Forbes.
It was first created in the 1980s as a prize for whoever completed the Cartier challenge by winning two back-to-back 6,200-mile Paris-Dakar races. In 1984 and 1985, motorcycle racer Gaston Rahier became the first and only person to complete the task.
Since then, the timepiece has remained "shrouded in mystery" for 40 years, according to the Sotheby's listing from 2022. One of the four models made is considered lost, and the other two remain in Cartier's collection. Production of the watch ended in 1986.