• Ben Tye is the CEO and managing partner of a business consultancy.
• He is also a qualified and practicing psychotherapist, who sees private clients every Monday.
• When negotiating a four-day week, he argued that stepping away from work would give him a fresh perspective.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with 55-year-old Ben Tye, the CEO of Gate One, who is based in London. The following has been edited for length and clarity.

My late 30s and early 40s were a difficult time. I had a successful career in management consulting, yet I was struggling with what I now know was depression and anxiety.

When I was 41, I started seeing a psychotherapist who recommended a book called "The Middle Passage" by James Hollis, which is about making the second part of your life, after your 40s, richer and more meaningful.

It really spoke to me and helped me to understand that, for some, midlife is a time of necessary suffering in order to prompt questions like, "who am I really?" and "what does my life want from me?" rather than, "what do I want from life?" It's really quite profound and far from any "self-help" manual.

Six years later, in 2017, I began studying and training during the evenings and on weekends to qualify as a psychotherapist. It involved a one-year foundation certificate, a four-year post-graduate diploma, and a two-year research component.

All the while, I continued having my own therapy sessions on Tuesday evenings. That was while I was also running my own consultancy business.

The psychotherapy training took six and a half years and over 700 hours of supervised client contact time.

I pitched my four-day week as a way to get a fresh perspective on the business

I joined Gate One in 2018, and in 2021, when I was a partner, I was given permission to work a four-day week and run my own therapy practice on Mondays. We have a very flexible working policy so the negotiation I had with the company owners and other leaders wasn't difficult.

I pitched that stepping out of the business a day a week would give me a fresh perspective and clearer headspace when I returned to work the next day. I recommend people who work a four-day week to have Mondays off, because it's easier to start the week doing something else than it is to finish.

I typically see five clients a week out of a room in a beautiful building in central London's Little Venice, overlooking a canal.

Little Venice is considered upmarket, but it's a very mixed area socioeconomically, and clients bring a range of issues to sessions related to bereavement, addiction, relationships, work, their sense of self, and body image. I had experienced or known close friends, family, colleagues, and acquaintances who had experienced several of these issues.

My fee is £90 ($118) an hour, but I ask my clients to pay what they can afford. Even if it's a symbolic amount, it represents an investment in themselves.

Mine and other people's boundaries are clearer now

It's been going well at work, as I make sure everyone knows what they should be doing when I'm off. The ability to delegate and trust people to do their work is a key leadership skill.

I received many in-person comments from colleagues, particularly women, who have said that they appreciated seeing a man in a senior role adopt a flexible working style. The policy has been in place for many years, but perhaps people felt it gave them "permission" to take advantage of it.

Balancing a third element of life alongside work and personal commitments brings boundaries more clearly into focus: yours and other people's. There's something really positive about having a better awareness of how one is spending one's time, what one is working on at any given moment, and making sure things aren't getting dropped or one isn't taking too much on.

Completely separating myself from my work environment each week puts me in a very different headspace, which has helped me step away from the day-to-day business of being a leader. I'll check my emails on a Monday evening after I've finished with my clients, and return to work on Tuesday with a fresh perspective.

I can't give advice as a therapist, but I have to be direct as a CEO

But I do have to make sure I'm separating my two roles of psychotherapist and CEO.

Being a psychotherapist certainly makes you a good listener, gives you patience, and the ability to be curious and appreciate where others might be coming from. Work-wise, you also develop an understanding of group dynamics and the unconscious roles that people play.

As a leader, you have to be authoritative and direct, while a therapist shouldn't tell people what to do or give direct advice. There's no way I would ever slide into therapist mode with colleagues or professional clients, because that boundary needs to be maintained really carefully.

I hope I can be a therapist for longer than I'm a business consultant

I haven't considered going full-time as a psychotherapist, as I'm quite senior in my business career and like to think I can add a lot of value.

But I am 55 and heading toward that final furlong of my work life. One of the reasons I became a therapist is to work longer than I might ordinarily be able to do as a business consultant.

Since training as a therapist, I have also done a two-year psychodynamic executive coaching program. That takes the theories and practices of psychoanalytics and psychotherapy and applies them to coaching. That's the third leg that sits between what I do as a psychotherapist, and what I do as a consultant and a business leader.

After I hand over the baton to Gate One's next leader, I anticipate I will do a mix of executive coaching, leadership development, and psychotherapy.

Therapy has given me a nice pathway for the last third of my life, allowing me to extend my career and do something really interesting and fulfilling, as I begin to dial down my other commitments in years to come.

• Richard Detty has driven for Uber and Lyft in Honolulu since 2017.
• Detty says it's a flexible side hustle, but Hawaii needs laws protecting drivers' pay.
• Some ride-hailing drivers have said their earnings have fallen over the past few years.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Richard Detty, a 58-year-old ride-hailing driver for Uber and Lyft in Honolulu. Business Insider verified Detty's earnings through screenshots he provided of his payments. The interview has been edited for length and clarity.

A Lyft spokesperson told Business Insider that "ensuring driver success is vital to our mission, and we're continually looking to increase driver pay in smart, deliberate ways." For example, the company has pledged that drivers will make at least 70% of the weekly rider fares after external fees, and has recently started paying drivers for the time they wait for a rider, starting after one minute.

An Uber spokesperson said, "We're committed to policies that support flexible work and sustainable earnings without reducing opportunities or raising costs for riders." Most Uber drivers drive for the app part-time, the spokesperson said.

Rideshare is my side hustle.

I grew up on Kauai, Hawaii, and spent years on the US mainland. In 2017, I moved to Honolulu. My main business is selling products from Hawaii, such as mochi crunch cookies, on Amazon. When I'm not doing that, I drive for Lyft and Uber.

Tourism is a big industry here, and there are plenty of rides to take. I often drive between the airport, Waikiki, Pearl Harbor, and other places that tourists want to go. I feel safer driving here than on the mainland, where you never know who you're going to pick up.

There are also some unique challenges. I can't tell you how many times I've picked up riders with wet bathing suits at the beach and had to dry out my seats before my next ride.

When I was in college here in 1991, I drove a cab part-time two or three times a week. I would give the guy who ran the taxi yard $35, and I could drive from six at night to six in the morning. I paid for the gas, but the taxi company covered everything else, including maintenance.

Back then, a ride from Waikiki to the Honolulu airport paid up to $25. Now, Lyft and Uber are offering me up to $12 as the base rate for the same ride. When I first started driving for the apps here, that same trip would've paid $18. Without tips, I'm dead in the water.

I wouldn't mind some of these rates if Uber and Lyft provided me a car. But I'm now responsible for all the costs. I have to handle all my maintenance, and if my car breaks down, I'm out of luck.

What makes the pay harder to shoulder is that Hawaii is an expensive place to live. Everything costs more here than on the mainland because everything has to be shipped here. I've paid more than $4 a gallon for gas at Costco, and I've seen milk here for around $8 a gallon. The base rate for rideshare drivers needs to go up here.

Driving for Uber, Lyft full-time didn't work

When I moved back to Hawaii eight years ago, Lyft and Uber advertised that drivers could make up to $35 an hour. That was very easy to do at the time.

Now, they advertise that drivers make $27 an hour, yet if anything, the fares I've seen seem to have gone up in that time. Where did the other $8 go? For me, it's been one pay cut after another.

In 2022, I worked full-time for Lyft and Uber. I did it for 10 months because I wanted to save money to invest in my Amazon business.

Around that time, I started to notice that the payments I got were falling. I found that doing this full-time wasn't livable, so I went back to doing it as a side hustle. I drove 30 and 40 hours a week and put close to 1,000 miles on my car each week.

The only thing that keeps me coming back to Uber and Lyft is the flexibility. I can go in and out when I want. I think Uber and Lyft count on that: It seems like they want people to be part-time drivers.

I'm lobbying the Honolulu city council, the mayor, and the state legislature to do something about the pay situation for ride-hailing drivers. We need laws similar to those that gig workers in Minneapolis or Seattle have, which promise a minimum wage and provide other protections. I could make a decent living getting paid like that. In Minneapolis, drivers are being paid at least $1.28 a mile and $0.31 a minute. That's close to double what I make.

We need a pay rate that's fair. So many costs that have gone up. We need to be able to make a living.

Do you have a story to share about Uber or other gig work? Contact this reporter at abitter@businessinsider.com or 808-854-4501.

• Jim Kukral, a cancer survivor, quit his sales job last month to feel alive again.
• He's launching a party boat business in Cleveland to bring people together for screen-free connection.
• This is the third installment of a four-part personal essay series, Quitting Without Regret.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Jim Kukral, who resigned from his sales job in early October to start a party boat business called Cleveland Floaters at age 54. This story has been edited for length and clarity.

I've been building my own brand by speaking and writing books for over 25 years, but I took a sales job at a coaching company in 2019 because I needed some stability, income-wise.

For four of those years, I was the top sales rep, and then for two and a half years, I was the director of sales. I actually liked the job, but I quit because I really just stopped feeling alive in it. I just said 'thanks very much,' and gave two weeks' notice. They were cool with it.

I recently beat cancer. I have everything. I'm not rich, but I've got a great family. I've had a really good life, but after COVID and the existentialism of beating cancer, I felt like I was slowly disappearing. I was tired of performing.

I'm guessing most people quit their jobs out of frustration, but for me, it was quitting out of hope. I'm hoping the joy isn't gone with humans. Maybe it's all just hiding under social media and phones and all that stuff.

I grew up in the '70s and '80s. Somewhere along the way, the last couple of years, we've started to do things like trade experiences for content. I feel like we've optimized ourselves into oblivion.

The thing that I'm building, and the reason that I want to build it, is to get real humans together, sweating on a boat, singing, dancing. We've got to reclaim what the screens stole from us.

The idea for my business, Cleveland Floaters, is to get people together to connect authentically and to exist fully in the moment. You have to have them put their phones in their pockets and put them in a room together — or in this case, on a boat — and entertain them. I think that's where things are moving.

I'm betting really heavily that over the next 20 to 30 years, we're going to see a real big push back to live experiences and human connection. I just really feel strongly about that, and that's what I want to champion.

We will start selling tickets for our first cruises in the spring. We're working really closely with Destination Cleveland, the Ohio Tourism powerhouse. It's very, very real. It's so real, it's kind of scary at this point. I haven't drained my 401(k) yet, but I'm about to start writing some checks.

This is all me. It is a private venture. It is really about creating something that makes people feel human again, and that's the journey I'm on, too. After 25 years of internet marketing and staring at a computer screen, I'd much rather bring together people on a boat.

It is going to be controlled chaos, so dancing deckhands, DJs, comedy, and improv. It will have a very Cleveland tone to it. We want to put Cleveland on the map. It's one of those flyover places. They fly over us and look down on us, but we're pretty awesome here. I want to build something that someone from Japan will get on a plane for and say I'm going to Cleveland, not New York.

Starting this business is extremely frightening. It's a ton of imposter syndrome because it is such a big swing out of my comfort zone. I have a lot of ups and downs. One minute, this is the greatest idea I've ever had, and then the next morning, this isn't going to work. I'm an idiot.

I think what stops most people from taking the leap is that they're scared of losing their income and insurance. But if I don't do it, I feel like I can't break free from this matrix of a world that we've created for ourselves.

My kids are grown. They're used to me being an entrepreneur, so they're like, "Great job, Dad, can't wait to see you pull it off!" My wife has a little more trepidation. It's our retirement at stake.

It's a tough time out there. Inflation's bad, people are scared, and not spending as much money. But I believe that people will spend money on experiences that bring humans together, and I'm going all in on that.

• Severe burnout led Audrey Wang to experience chronic hives and health issues.
• The high-pressure demands of her luxury estate management career were a trigger.
• Wang recovered by prioritizing health, shifting to coaching, and embracing intentional living.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Audrey Wang, a 42-year-old business and executive coach in LA. Business Insider has verified Wang's employment history with documentation. The following has been edited for length and clarity.

I burned out so severely in my last job that I broke out in hives that lasted six years. The baseline was all over my body, from head to toe. On my face, it started as a small hive on both cheeks and gradually grew to the point where my entire face was swollen.

They would peak for one whole week. Then it would take three weeks to return to normal and start up again in the fourth week. The hives on the rest of my body moved around aggressively.

I worked in high-end estate management, overseeing multiple luxury properties, managing household staff, and handling a wide range of requests.

I had to quit, and now I'm a business and executive coach. Once I got my stress levels under control, my hives went away.

My first job in 2010 was incredible

I managed a 20,000-square-foot estate in Santa Monica and continued to take on additional clients. Everything grew through word of mouth. It's a high-turnover space, and private professionals are always in demand, especially those who can step in quickly and handle high-pressure environments with discretion.

As I moved on to larger and wealthier clients, the demands got more extreme. One client was a die-hard U2 fan and wanted to charter a helicopter from Santa Monica to the Inglewood stadium. He insisted I find a way for his helicopter to fly directly over LAX, which is a no-fly zone. It was absurd and obviously impossible.

I worked for two families, including one from the UAE

I would spend two to three months a year living in the UAE to work for them. They were essentially government officials and highly discerning, and their escalating requests were so constant that there was barely time to sleep or eat.

The remainder of my year was spent working full-time with another family, based mainly in LA, from about 2013 to 2016. In 2015, the work environment became very difficult to manage. I was also getting married soon, and I was so stressed that the hives started.

That's when I hit my breaking point

My face was so swollen and disfigured that I couldn't be seen in public. I was in tears daily. Thankfully, I'd saved enough to take a year or two off to recover.

In 2016, I moved back to Playa Vista, but my hair started falling out. Doctors told me I probably had severe adrenal fatigue or even possibly cancer. It forced me to ask myself: Do I really want to keep doing this for the rest of my life?

The money was amazing, but was I willing to die for an early retirement?

During that break, I leaned into things I actually loved, like organizing

I discovered Marie Kondo's KonMari method. I wondered if my health issues were caused by allergies, so I started giving away everything and stopped buying anything new. It felt meditative. I helped friends declutter, and sometimes they paid me for my help.

The hives continued at first. Doctors put me on steroids because they believed it was stress-induced, but nothing helped. I didn't work for three years because my skin was so unpredictable. One month it'd clear up, and the next I'd have a lupus-like rash.

I was eventually diagnosed with chronic idiopathic urticaria and angioedema. Sometimes when I bit into something, my lips or eyes would swell, so I carried an EpiPen everywhere.

I concluded that the root cause must be internal

I'd tried everything in Western and Eastern medicine, so I enrolled with the Nutritional Therapy Association. Their clinical partners tested my deficiencies and confirmed I had adrenal fatigue and sky-high cortisol.

They gave me hormone-balancing supplements. I thought, Really? Vitamins? But I had no other choice, so I stuck with it.

A few weeks later, my hives improved. Three months in, they were completely gone. My blood pressure dropped. I felt like a different person.

I knew I could never go back to estate management

Instead, I grew my home-organizing work into a full-time business. Word spread, and I found myself back in some of the same mansions organizing people's lives, again. That evolved into motivational coaching and eventually high-performance coaching.

I teach that less is more. My work at Invitation to Succeed bridges the KonMari method with high-performance habits. But high performance isn't what people think it is. It's not about hustling so hard you sacrifice your health and relationships. It's about doing what truly matters and brings you a life worth living.

If you think being productive means working nonstop, you've got it twisted

Real high performance is intentional. It means analyzing what really matters — your health, relationships, and joy — and aligning your life around them.

If I could do things differently, I would've quit the minute a client disrespected me. I'd tell my former self: Your integrity is your compass. When you start betraying it to keep the peace, you've already lost yourself.

Self-respect is the quiet decision to choose yourself, even when it means sacrificing comfort or approval. The moment I got hives, my body was speaking the truth my mind was trying to rationalize. That was my wake-up call, a physical boundary screaming, "Enough."

Today, I protect my peace like a non-negotiable. Integrity, self-worth, and self-respect are the foundations of every decision I make now.

• Michael Permana was placed on a performance improvement plan by Amazon.
• He worried his software engineering job was at risk, so he took paternity leave.
• He said he did it to protect his finances and buy himself time to find a new role.

When Michael Permana learned that his time as a software engineer at Amazon might be running out, he made an interesting decision: he took paternity leave.

In late February 2023, Permana was placed on a PIP.

"I was desperate because from what I'd heard, once you are in a performance improvement plan, you are on your way out at Amazon," said the 47-year-old, who lives in Fremont, California.

He began applying for jobs right away, but knew it could take a while to land something new. He had a mortgage to pay, so he decided to buy himself roughly two months of breathing room by using the remainder of his paternity leave from when his daughter was born.

By temporarily stepping away from work — and the scrutiny that came with being on a PIP — he figured he could prolong his employment at Amazon while he searched for a new role.

"I took the opportunity while I could to delay time," he said.

Permana is among the Americans who have taken steps to prepare for unemployment in a corporate landscape where, for some, job security feels less dependable than it once did.

Business Insider has spoken with dozens of workers laid off by large corporations that are implementing strategic changes — including eliminating management layers, shifting investments toward AI, letting go of underperforming employees, and cutting costs across the board. While some workers had a sense their roles might be eliminated, others said they were caught off guard — pointing to their tenure, clean performance records, and the financial strength of their employers.

Permana shared how he landed a new role after a challenging search — and offered advice for others facing performance pressure.

When reached for comment, Amazon said that it regularly reviews its performance evaluation process to ensure it best supports the growth and development of its employees.

Job searching during paternity leave and getting a 'collection' of rejection emails

Rather than simply working hard and hoping for the best, some workers have prepared for the worst — deploying strategies such as applying for jobs before trouble strikes, launching side businesses, or secretly juggling multiple jobs.

In Permana's case, at least he had some warning, and paternity leave bought him some time to look for his next gig. That doesn't mean his job search was easy.

His two main search strategies were applying to software engineering roles on LinkedIn and exploring opportunities through recruiters he connected with on the platform. Permana landed a few interviews at Meta, Instawork, and HubSpot, but was ultimately rejected from all of them. He said he tried applying to the software company SnapLogic, where he'd worked more than a decade previously, but was denied there as well.

"It was very hard," he said, adding that he still has a "collection" of rejection emails he's compiled for tracking purposes.

By the time Permana returned from paternity leave in May, he still hadn't landed a new job, and he continued to feel that his performance was under scrutiny. However, he soon advanced in the interview process for a software engineering role at the mobile game developer MobilityWare. A friend who worked there referred him for the position, which he believes helped him get an interview.

In late May, Permana received an offer. In June, his tenure at Amazon came to an end, and he began the new role — a remote position that offered the flexibility he was looking for.

Permana said he enjoyed the job but recently left for a software engineering role at the mobile messaging platform Attentive, citing higher pay as a key reason for the switch.

How to navigate a PIP and land a software engineering role

When it comes to navigating a performance improvement plan, Permana said his best advice is to communicate openly with your manager and focus on doing exactly what they're asking of you. However, he also believes it's wise to assume things might not work out — and to start applying for jobs elsewhere.

As for advice on landing a software engineering role, Permana said his two biggest tips are to seek out referrals whenever possible and to dedicate significant time to interview preparation.

He recalled that Meta's interview process, for example, included coding questions that required extensive prep. One question, he said, touched on a concept he hadn't thought about in the last two decades of his career. Permana believes the questions were so demanding that it would be difficult for any working professional to find enough time to prepare properly.

"You'd have to study for a few months to be able to do those questions," he said.

Reviewing questions on LeetCode, a coding interview prep website, helped him prepare for interviews at Meta and elsewhere — but he said it still required a significant time investment.

Permana's advice: Find ways to carve out enough time for your job search — even if it doesn't involve taking paternity leave.

• Peak TV was great, and Kevin Reilly had a great seat during the Peak TV era.
• Reilly steered programming at networks including NBC, Fox, and FX during the boom, which was fueled first by cable, and then by competition from streaming.
• That era is over, and it's not coming back, Reilly says. Which helps explain why he's in AI now.

TV is an endangered species. People aren't watching it, and don't want to pay for it. And the companies that own TV networks are trying to find someone — anyone — to buy them.

But not that long ago, lots of us were reveling in the "Peak TV" era — a time when inventive TV programming was plentiful and, crucially, popular. A time when you could watch "The Sopranos" on HBO, "Friday Night Lights" on NBC, and "The Shield" on FX.

This was also a time when Kevin Reilly had great jobs in TV, where he steered programming at networks including NBC, FX, Fox, and Turner — and had his hands on all the shows I just mentioned. That run ended in 2000, when Reilly was re-orged out of what was then called WarnerMedia.

Today, Reilly is in AI, of course: He recently became CEO of Kartel, a startup that's supposed to help big brands use the tech.

But in a recent episode of my Channels podcast, I talked to him about life during TV's latest (and possibly last) golden age — and whether he thinks it will ever come back. (Spoiler: There's a reason he's in AI now.)

You can read an edited excerpt from our conversation below, and listen to the whole thing here.

Peter Kafka: You got to be a TV executive in what we now call the Peak TV era. What was that like?

Kevin Reilly: When I got to network television, there were still these rules, like "the good guy always wins" and "people don't want to watch depressing things on television."

And then cable, when I went to FX, that was really one of the most fun chapters of my career because it was the very early days of basic cable. All of a sudden, we started doing "The Shield" and "Nip/Tuck" and doing these things that the press had labeled "HBO for basic cable."

Prior to this, basic cable was mostly infomercials and reruns.

Kevin Reilly: I was sitting there talking to great creators, and I was telling them we were HBO for basic cable. And on the monitor above my head was "Cops" running 24 hours a day, keeping the lights on.

I was like, "Don't look at the monitor."

But all of a sudden, we were able to do stuff that really wasn't fit for broadcast by being very particular and being a little bit more forward.

Around the same time, streaming popped up, and Netflix debuted "House of Cards" in 2013 as an explicitly HBO-style show. There was a lot of fascination with streaming but also dismissiveness: Jeff Bewkes, who was running Time Warner at the time, famously dissed Netflix as "the Albanian army." Did you believe that back then?

I think Jeff is an extraordinary leader, and I loved working for him. At the time, though, I think he had to do what he needed to do.

You don't think he was really dismissive of Netflix? It was just something he had to say?

I think at that point, throughout the entire business, everyone was dismissive of Netflix. "We're picking these guys' pockets. They're gonna go out of business. We're selling them all the stuff that we can't sell. They're idiots."

But at the same time, Netflix was all anybody was talking about, all day long. I remember flying to Detroit to talk to a big [advertising] client for one of our series. It was going to be a $50 million, $60 million transaction. And all they were talking about was Netflix.

They were buying advertising, and then telling me how all their kids are only watching things on their phones all day long. And I was like, "Isn't this ironic that you, an advertiser, are talking about a non-advertising-based service and how your kids don't watch TV anymore?"

What did you think?

I thought they would experiment and do stuff, but maybe not at scale. I mean, they don't have the system for that, and it's really hard. Well, first of all, they did what we did (at FX) — they took a page out of the HBO handbook: Fire the money cannon and say, "Hey, we'll just dream. Bring us in your dreams. Do what you wanna do."

Your last job in TV was at what was then called WarnerMedia, which had been purchased by AT&T, and there were a bunch of different justifications for that deal, but the real one turned out to be "maybe Wall Street will give us a Netflix stock multiple," which never happened. Did you think that combination was going to work?

I mean, the product itself works and has been a success. But to take the entirety of Time Warner, and then it was going to be a one-product system that we would single-handedly launch and build an ad play around it, and all of a sudden compete with Google and Netflix …

I don't know that even Wall Street ever bought that narrative, no matter how hard we sold it.

Two of your former employers — Comcast and WBD — are bidding for Paramount. Netflix is bidding too. There's going to be some kind of consolidation no matter what. Do you think that when all of this gets done that there's a future for traditional television, or do you think it becomes, in the end, a subset of a bigger tech platform?

I'd love to be able to just give you the knee-jerk answer, "Of course, there'll always be traditional television." I think unfortunately, everybody waited too long to figure out how we were going to prop it up.

So will it have a very long tail on it, like radio? The heyday of radio went away and we still have radio. I believe it will be around in some fashion. And as some of these assets get shed or reinvented — yeah, they might end up having a little bit more life in some ways than we thought they did.

And radio became podcasts…

Exactly. So there's always new expressions of it.

But retooling traditional businesses, especially while you've got to pull the profit out from underneath, is really difficult.

• Corporate bankruptcies are rising in 2025, nearing a 15-year high, S&P reports.
• This year, we've seen numerous notable bankruptcies, including Spirit Airlines and Claire's.
• How bad is it? We break down the trends in 3 charts.

If you watch the news, you have undoubtedly seen the stories of well-known companies closing stores or raising doubts about their ability to continue operating.

Earlier this month, S&P's data tracking company seemed to confirm our worst fears, reporting that 2025 bankruptcies were nearing levels not seen since in 15 years, or since 2010, when the economy was still recovering from the Great Recession.

Scary, right?

Not so fast. While the trend is definitely pointed upward, it's not all doom and gloom. Here is what's happening in 3 charts:

2025 bankruptcies are rising

S&P Global Market Intelligence reported some 68 bankruptcies in October, bringing the 2025 total to 655 for the first 10 months of the year. Assuming the trend continues through November and December, 2025 will end the year with 792 bankruptcies. That's more companies having filed for bankruptcy protection than any year since 2010, when S&P tracked 828 corporate bankruptcies.

S&P, which only tracks companies of a certain size, said it's seeing the most bankruptcies in the industrials sector (think manufacturing), followed by consumer discretionary (think fashion).

This year's high-profile bankruptcy filings have included electric truck maker Nikola, Spirit Airlines, and fashion accessory retailer Claire's.

We're still well below Great Recession levels

While 2025 bankruptcies are now on track to reach their highest levels since 2010, they are still expected to be significantly lower than the levels reached at the height of the Great Depression.

In 2008, the year Lehman Brothers failed, leading to massive bank bailouts, S&P tracked 5,335 bankruptcies. The next year, it tracked 5,026.

By contrast, bankruptcies were relatively low leading up to the Fed's recent spate of rate hikes — hitting a nadir of just 372 in 2022, according to S&P's data.

Bankruptcies have been rising since 2023, as the cost of borrowing has increased. (The Federal Reserve began slowly raising interest rates in 2022 in an effort to tamp down inflation.) Even so, 2025's bankruptcies could still come in below 2010.

More companies are looking to emerge from bankruptcy

There are two common types of bankruptcy filings: Chapter 7 liquidation and Chapter 11 reorganization.

The first usually signals that the filing company plans to shutter its doors and go out of business.

A company that turns to Chapter 11 bankruptcy, by contrast, does so to hammer out plans to repay its creditors under court supervision. Under this scenario, a company may look to cut costs, including by closing doors; however, the goal is to emerge from bankruptcy as a healthier and stronger company.

There have been periods when liquidations have been on par with or even exceeded reorganizations, including between 2021 to 2023, when S&P tracked 744 liquidations to 667 reorganizations.

That trend appears to have reversed in the last two years, however. This year, the S&P has tallied 412 reorganizations versus 269 liquidations, suggesting more companies are turning to bankruptcy court as a way to reduce debt rather than close their doors.

• Tatiana Birgisson and Jake Stauch are the COO and CEO of Serval, an AI startup that recently raised $47 million.
• They're also married and live together in Oakland with their 2-year-old daughter.
• "There's no 'off limits' time," Birgisson told Business Insider. Stauch said the couple has always talked about work 'non-stop.'

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Tatiana Birgisson and Jake Stauch, the COO and CEO of Serval, which integrates AI agents in IT service management. Before joining Serval, Birgisson was VP of Growth at Rippling. Birgisson and Stauch are married and live in Oakland. It's been edited for length and clarity.

Jake Stauch: There was this entrepreneurship living group at Duke that was not able to get funding because there were no women in the group.

Tatiana Birgisson: 18 guys. Not a good look.

JS: Certainly, you could find somebody, and so they did find Tatiana. We were dating different people. Then we ended up not dating other people.

TB: Our relationships fell apart within a few weeks of each other. We were sad together in college.

JS: Very lonely, drunk college students. We got into this summer program together, so we were basically living in the same group, but instead of 18 of us, now there were three. That's how it happened.

In the early days of our relationship, we were working very closely on each other's companies. Tatiana was on the board of NeuroPlus, my company. I was on the board at Mati, her company. Even though we were solo founders, we kind of acted as each other's cofounders. We always worked really well together.

We had a baby right around the time I was starting my company, and it was not going to make sense for us to be unemployed while we're new parents. But Tatiana still wanted to start a company, and here I am running Serval, and things are starting to work, and we're about to raise our Series A. It was like: You could do your own company, or I need you here.

This is a best-case scenario, because Tatiana wanted to be a founder, but also didn't have a team or an idea…

TB: Or the technical chops. It's not a great recipe for success for a great VC to invest in you.

JS: It was missing some ingredients, and we had a company that was really taking off.

TB: It needed a lot of sales and marketing. Everybody around us was like, "This is the most obvious thing in the world." To me, it was the most non-obvious thing. I was very sure I would never work for my husband. I would start a company with him, never for. It took a lot to be ready for that.

It can be done. We've seen it with a couple of friends. An entrepreneur hired his wife as an EA/office manager. In that case, it worked really beautifully for them because she loved being in service of an organization and liked helping her husband with his dream.

JS: Melissa and Doug were at our wedding. The toy company founders. Great couple. They're a big inspiration for us, and we saw it work for them as equal counterparts.

TB: With six or seven kids, too. We're not doing that.

JS: We were always people that talked about work non-stop. It was 95% of our conversation.

TB: Even when we were rock climbing or out skiing together on vacation, we'd still be brainstorming ideas. It's just intellectual stimulation that you don't want to turn off or compartmentalize. That just feels wrong for us.

JS: But we were working at different places. I'd talk about my startup, and that whole cast of characters. Maybe it's mildly interesting to Tatiana, but it's not the most exciting thing because she's not living it. Then she tells me about what's going on at Rippling, and it's mildly interesting. I don't know who these people are. I don't really care about HR software. It's like watching a TV show that you don't care that much about.

TB: It's like Jake watching a rom-com. He'll put up with it to watch it with me.

JS: But now, it's very engaging. We're on the same team, and everything is super relevant. We don't work together over the course of the day, and so when we talk about work at home, it's like catching up on things that are super relevant and meaningful.

TB: By the time we hit the pillow, we're pretty done with the day. Any kind of talking has ceased by that point. But there's no "off limits" time.

I do try to spend some time in the evenings with our daughter, who's a 2-year-old. We try to carve out family time with her and focusing on her development, reading her books, and helping her learn how to climb on the wall (?) she has in her room.

Then we get back online after bedtime.

JS: We try to carve out Saturdays as family days, but I think that we're mildly successful at that. Sunday's just a regular workday for us.

TB: We've started bringing our daughter with us to trips that we're both going on. When we were in Orlando for a conference, she got to go to Disney World and meet Rapunzel.

JS: Getting back from a long day at a conference and she's just…

TB: …So happy to see us. It's so beautiful and so much fun.

• Trump's student-loan repayment overhaul includes new borrowing caps for graduate and professional students.
• It also reclassifies which programs are considered "professional" and eligible for a higher loan cap.
• Advocates expressed concerns that the changes could strain those in healthcare professions.

This year, there's a new topic to argue about at the Thanksgiving table: What is a professional degree?

It's a question that President Donald Trump's Department of Education recently addressed in its overhaul of student-loan repayment. That's led to criticism from groups that are not included in the department's narrower degree definition.

The crux of the issue is new borrowing limits. Trump's "big beautiful" spending legislation that he signed into law in July included new borrowing caps on professional and graduate student loans, aiming to curb excessive borrowing: $20,500 a year for graduate students or $100,000 over a lifetime, and $50,000 a year for professional students or $200,000 over a lifetime.

In addition to the caps, the department also reclassified what constitutes a professional degree, narrowing it down to 10 programs, including dentistry, medicine, and law.

Some advocates said the department's professional degree definition could strain student-loan borrowing access to those in the healthcare profession seeking post-graduate training, like nurses, although the changes won't affect undergraduate borrowing.

"At a time when healthcare in our country faces a historic nurse shortage and rising demands, limiting nurses' access to funding for graduate education threatens the very foundation of patient care," Jennifer Mensik Kennedy, president of the American Nurses Association, said in a statement.

The Department of Education said that the new definitions only reflect which programs qualify for higher loan limits and are "not a value judgement about the importance of programs. It has no bearing on whether a program is professional in nature or not."

Student-loan changes to professional degree programs

The Department of Education said 10 post-graduate programs will be counted as professional degrees and will be eligible for the higher student-loan cap: pharmacy, dentistry, veterinary medicine, chiropractic, law, medicine, optometry, osteopathic medicine, podiatry, and theology.

Preston Cooper, a senior fellow at the conservative think-tank the American Enterprise Institute, wrote in a Monday blog post that Congress "legislated only broad guidelines as to how graduate programs should be classified," and the distinction between professional and non-professional programs was left to the discretion of the Education Department.

When it comes to nursing programs, Cooper said that the "new caps will affect only a small number of programs charging exorbitant prices."

The Department of Education said that, based on its data, 95% of nursing students borrow below the new student-loan cap. The average cost of a master's degree in nursing in 2020 ranged from $15,030 to nearly $43,000, per the National Center for Education Statistics.

The borrowing caps could strain other professions and cause some students to either forgo their advanced degrees or turn to the riskier, private lending market. For example, the Association of American Medical Colleges found that the median cost for four years of public medical school was $286,454 for the class of 2024. For law school, the average total cost was just over $217,000. The $200,000 lifetime cap would be insufficient to cover those tuition amounts.

While negotiations on the changes have concluded, the public will have an opportunity to comment on the proposals early next year before the department moves toward final implementation. The department said that it "may make changes in response to public comments."

• A VC investor said AI will create a handful of winners while overhyped startups may fail.
• Early-stage AI companies are commanding soaring valuations despite lacking clear product-market fit.
• VC in AI is overheated, he said, setting the stage for a harsh market correction.

The AI boom is only just beginning — and it may prove the most lucrative cycle in venture-capital history, even as it also leaves behind a wave of startups.

That's according to Mel Williams, cofounder and partner at TrueBridge Capital Partners, a fund-of-funds manager with $8 billion under management that has backed firms such as Founders Fund, Thrive, and Sequoia.

While VCs pick startups, Williams' job is to pick the VCs — giving him a rare, ecosystem-wide view of what's coming.

His outlook: AI will create enormous value over the next decade, but a number of startups won't make it out alive.

"We think we're at the leading stages of an AI wave," Williams said during an interview on Jack Altman's "Uncapped" podcast released on Tuesday.

"We're going to see a lot of carnage over the next 10 years. And we will see more value created over the next 10 years than we've seen in the venture industry," he said.

A 'frothy' market — especially at the earliest stages

Williams described the early-stage AI environment as overheated.

Founders with the right résumés — often with experience at OpenAI or top labs — can raise massive rounds at lofty valuations with little proof their product works.

"At the earlier stages of the formation stages, where there's less evidence of a product market fit, you do see founders with credibility, founders who could check a couple boxes raising large pools of capital at very high valuations," he said.

Growth-stage deals, he added, look more reasonable, with valuations closer to public-market levels as investors focus more on real revenue.

AI will amplify the venture's power-law dynamics

Williams believes AI is accelerating the power-law pattern that already defines venture capital: a tiny handful of companies drive nearly all the returns.

"The magnitude of the winners is even greater today than it has been in prior cycles," he said. It "is going to be outsized in this market."

He pointed to three forces intensifying that trend:

• AI software scales instantly, with near-zero marginal cost.
• Enterprises are aggressively adopting AI tools, with explicit budgets allocated for them.
• Consumers jump in immediately, as seen with ChatGPT's explosive growth.

The result: companies that get product-market fit could become market leaders quickly, while those that miss may stumble.

Outside AI, the venture market looks surprisingly healthy — but the fallout will still be brutal

Williams said the frenzy is largely confined to the field of AI. Outside of this, valuations remain reasonable, and capital still moves around milestones and revenue, he said.

The broader venture market, in his view, looks attractive compared to the overheated AI landscape.

But AI now accounts for 50% to 60% of all venture activity, he said — and that imbalance is setting the stage for a harsh correction.

Even if non-AI categories stay rational, Williams believes the sheer amount of capital flooding into AI will create a long trail of "carnage" as companies miss product-market fit or fail to justify their sky-high valuations.

"We're in the early stages of that. There's evidence that it's working," he said, but he added, "at the same time, it feels like a very frothy investment environment."