• A Colorado couple credits the FIRE movement with helping them grow their net worth to $800,000. 
• FIRE is an acronym for "financial independence, retire early."
• The duo shared their top strategies for increasing their savings. 

Chrissy and her husband, Ryan, didn't grow up wealthy. To get ahead financially, they've long known that a combination of "hard work and frugality" would be necessary, Chrissy told Business Insider via email.

So when the couple learned about the FIRE movement in their mid-20s, it was music to their ears.

FIRE is an acronym for "financial independence, retire early." Generally, people who've embraced the FIRE movement want to grow their savings so they can achieve financial freedom and retire before they turn 65 — though some people prefer to keep working. To accomplish their goals, some FIRE advocates save most of their income, take on side hustles, or delay costly life milestones like having kids. Many FIRE advocates trace the movement's philosophy to the 1992 best-selling book "Your Money or Your Life."

To learn more about the FIRE movement, in particular strategies for maximizing savings and reaching financial independence, the couple sought out FIRE-related YouTube videos, Facebook groups, newsletters, and podcasts. They then tried to apply some of that information to their financial strategies.

Their efforts have paid off.

Over the past several years, the couple has grown their combined net worth to more than $800,000, according to documents viewed by BI. Chrissy said their goal is to grow their investments to roughly $2.5 million over the next 10 to 15 years — which she hopes will allow them to retire before she turns 50. Both she and Ryan are in their early 30s.

"Retiring at 65-plus years old just doesn't sound appealing," said Chrissy, who works as a marketing director and is based in Colorado. "I'm sure we'll still be active and healthy at that age, but there's a lot more that we can enjoy when we're in our 40s and 50s." The couple's last names were withheld for privacy reasons.

As many Americans struggle to save for retirement — and many retirees feel they don't have enough to stop working — the FIRE movement has offered a potential blueprint for people who desire financial security. While some people have found success with FIRE, it hasn't been a good fit for everyone, in part because it can require significant savings goals that might not always be realistic. However, FIRE proponents live a wide range of lifestyles. And experts say some principles of FIRE — like the benefits of saving and investing at a young age to take advantage of compounded investment returns — are applicable to a wide audience.

Chrissy shared her and Ryan's top strategies for growing their savings — and the one change to their lifestyle that could make an early retirement a bit more difficult.

How to live a FIRE lifestyle

Chrissy summed up the couple's financial strategy as "spend less, make more, and invest more."

To spend less, she said they've reduced how much they dine out at restaurants, bought in bulk from Costco, planned their own vacations rather than using travel agents, avoided gym memberships by working out at home, and limited alcohol consumption.

They've also postponed certain expenses to save some extra cash.

"I went many years with a broken phone screen and really didn't mind," she said.

To make more money, Chrissy said they've "aggressively pushed for additional income." For her, this has taken on the form of "climbing the corporate ladder" — she said she landed a six-figure salary at age 26. She also started a side hustle working as a registered dietician, something she focuses on during evenings and weekends.

Ryan works full-time as a human resources professional. In his spare time, Chrissy said he focuses on managing the couple's three investment properties which provide them with passive income. The couple's combined taxable income was roughly $250,000 in 2023, according to a document viewed by BI.

When their strategies generate extra money, the couple invests as much as possible in their 401(k) plans and low-cost index funds.

In case of emergencies, the couple keeps about six months of funds in savings.

Chrissy said saving money was easier when she and Ryan lived in Indiana. The couple relocated to Colorado during the pandemic, a few years into their FIRE savings journey.

One of the biggest differences between the two states has been the housing costs, Chrissy said. The couple is based in Monument, Colorado, where the average home value is about $743,000, per Zillow. In Fishers, Indiana, where they used to live, the average home value is $426,000.

In the years ahead, one lifestyle change could put some additional pressure on the couple's finances: They're expecting their first child, which they know will come with many new monthly expenses.

However, Chrissy said she thinks her financial goals are still achievable, in part because she and Ryan have been planning for life with a newborn. They've even planned how to finance their child's potential college education.

"We've started to save up for his 529 plan so that they can attend college," she said, referring to the investment account that offers tax-free withdrawals when the money is used for certain education expenses.

Are you part of the FIRE movement or living by some of its principles? Reach out to this reporter at jzinkula@businessinsider.com.

• A popular YouTuber was 'shocked and confused' that Trump's shooter wore his merch.
• Matt Carriker has 11.6 million subscribers on the gun-focused hub "Demolition Ranch."
• Carriker said he never knew Crooks and condemned political violence.

Matt Carriker, a popular firearm-focused YouTuber, said he was "shocked and confused" to learn the shooter was wearing his channel merch during the attempted assassination of former President Donald Trump.

Thomas Matthew Crooks, who shot Trump in the ear at a Pennsylvania rally Saturday, was killed wearing a t-shirt that read "Demolition Ranch" — the name of Carriker's channel, which has 11.6 million subscribers.

"To see my name next to the shooter's name — it sucks, and I wish we could keep that from happening," Carriker said in a video posted Monday.

Texas-based Carriker added he never knew Crooks.

The FBI said Monday it was working '"tirelessly" to figure out the shooter's motive; Crooks' acquaintances have also said they didn't know why the 20-year-old opened fire, killing one bystander.

Carriker said he's been creating YouTube videos for 10 years, and avoids politics across his three channels, which also chronicle his work as a veterinarian.

But he was "thrust into the conversation."

Carriker condemned hate and violence "no matter what side you're on politically." As a husband and father, he added, he didn't want anyone to be "in any more danger because of my videos."

Carriker also expressed his condolences to the family of Corey Comperatore, who died in the shooting, and wished those injured a "pain-free recovery."

He did not immediately respond to a request for comment from Business Insider.

• Robert F. Kennedy Jr.'s son posted a video of a call between Trump and the independent candidate.
• The two discussed vaccines and the assassination attempt on Trump.
• Trump told RFK Jr. that the bullet sounded like the "world's largest mosquito."

In a leaked call between Donald Trump and independent candidate Robert F. Kennedy Jr., the former president offered further description of what it was like to survive an assassination attempt.

"Something wracked me," Trump said, according to the video. "It felt like a giant — like the world's largest mosquito."

The video of the call was first posted on X by Kennedy's son, Bobby Kennedy III, who later took the original post down. Kennedy apologized for the leak, saying he was "mortified" that the video was posted.

Trump also said that President Joe Biden was "very nice actually" when he called the former president after the assassination attempt, which took place at a rally in Butler, Pennsylvania on Saturday. The motive of the shooter remains unknown.

The bulk of the clip includes Trump appearing to sympathize with Kennedy's crusade against vaccines.

"When you feed a baby, Bobby, a vaccination that is like 38 different vaccines, and it looks like it's meant for a horse, not a 10 pound or 20 pound baby, it looks like you're giving — you should be giving a horse this," Trump can be heard saying. "And then you see the baby all of a sudden starting to change radically. I've seen it too many times."

Kennedy was granted Secret Service protection on Monday amid heightened concerns about political violence.

• Donald Trump chose JD Vance as his running mate, a loyal ally who shares many of his views.
• Trump's choice indicates a shift from balancing the ticket to doubling down on populism.
• It's a move away from his selection of Mike Pence, who was seen as a traditional ticket-balancer.

Former President Donald Trump's veepstakes concluded with him choosing Sen. JD Vance of Ohio as his running mate.

The 39-year-old junior senator, who initially heavily criticized Trump before becoming a loyal ally, is an intriguing choice.

Traditionally, presidential candidates choose a running mate to "balance the ticket."

This practice involves a candidate selecting a running mate who can broaden the ticket's appeal by adding ideological, geographic, or demographic balance in areas where the top of the ticket may be perceived as lacking.

Instead, Trump has chosen a mini-me and a populist protégé, flipping the script on a common political practice he seemed to subscribe to in 2016.

Balancing the ticket

President Joe Biden's selection of Vice President Kamala Harris is a notable example of balancing the ticket.

Biden, whose age was already a concern with some voters, balanced his ticket by choosing Harris, who is over 20 years younger. Harris is also a woman of color, whereas Biden is a white man.

Though both are arguably centrist Democrats, she was largely seen as having stronger progressive credentials.

Former President Barack Obama's selection of Biden was also an example of this practice in action — a relative political newcomer choosing a foreign policy veteran.

Even Trump, in selecting former Vice President Mike Pence, appeared to be trying to balance the 2016 ticket.

Pence's extensive government experience countered Trump's perceived inexperience, and his image as a traditional, conservative Christian alleviated concerns about Trump's conservatism and chequered past.

But this time, instead of seeking balance, Trump chose a candidate in his own image, doubling down on the MAGA brand with a loyalist.

Choosing MAGA loyalist JD Vance

In some superficial ways, Vance offers balance.

He's half Trump's age, which is significant in an election focused heavily on age. And whereas Trump avoided the draft five times, Vance served in the military, which might appeal to the veteran vote.

However, there are more similarities than differences.

To start, they're both white, male, Ivy-educated, and have business experience. And, crucially, they're both MAGA-aligned, offering little in the way of ideological diversity.

While Vance previously disparaged Trump, calling him "cultural heroin" and describing himself as a "never Trump guy," he has since been reliably conservative and staunchly loyal to the former president.

Vance has also questioned the legitimacy of Trump's 2020 election defeat, advancing false claims about voter fraud, and said he would have refused to certify the election on January 6, 2021, if he were vice president.

On many issues — there's a lot of overlap. "He's a clone of Trump on the issues, so I don't see any difference," Biden said after the Vance announcement.

Vance and Trump are aligned on issues like their opposition to immigration and the US funding of the Ukraine war, and their support for Israel, and both have called for a tougher stance on China.

Trump, who implemented protectionist "America First" tariffs on China during his administration, has opted for a protectionist counterpart who has expressed support for using tariffs to boost US manufacturing.

Trump may hope Vance appeals to working-class Midwestern voters, — he wrote a bestselling book, "Hillbilly Elegy," about the struggles of people in Appalachia.

But Vance is from Ohio, which, although traditionally a battleground state, is no longer considered one.

Trump won Ohio by eight points in 2020.

Following the assassination attempt on Trump, the former president called on Americans to unite. However, Vance quickly blamed Democratic campaign rhetoric for the shooting, highlighting yet another area of alignment between them — a shared inclination toward confrontational politics.

Trump's selection may not follow the usual ticket-balancing strategy, but it could elevate a potential torchbearer to continue Trumpism once the former president eventually exits the political stage, whenever that is.

• Marc Andreessen and Ben Horowitz are reportedly planning donations to groups supporting Donald Trump.
• The pair told employees at their VC firm, Andreessen Horowitz, about the plans, The Information reported.
• It's the latest example of big names in Silicon Valley lending support to Trump's election bid.

Two of the biggest names in Silicon Valley are reportedly planning to throw cash behind groups supporting Donald Trump's presidential campaign.

Marc Andreessen and Ben Horowitz, who founded the venture capital firm that bears both of their names, are preparing donations to political action committees, or PACs, that support Trump's latest bid for the White House, The Information reported on Tuesday.

The pair have shared their plans with employees at the firm, according to the report. It would mark the first time that both men have expressed support for Trump in public.

The exact PACs that Andreessen and Horowitz plan to support, as well as the exact amount that they plan to donate, were unclear. Andreessen Horowitz did not immediately respond to Business Insider's request for comment on the report.

In fact, supporting Trump would mark a clear change for at least one of the men from eight years ago. In 2016, Andreessen told Bloomberg that he planned to vote for Hillary Clinton instead of Trump in that year's presidential election, citing her stances on issues ranging from immigration to science.

When pressed about why, he responded: "Is that a serious question?"

Other major figures in the tech world have indicated their support of Trump this summer.

Elon Musk endorsed Trump after Saturday's assassination attempt on the former president. Musk is also reportedly planning to donate $45 million each month to a pro-Trump PAC.

• I've become used to people telling me I'm so lucky to be an only child. 
• There are some perks about being an only child, but also I'm the only one to take care of my parents.
• I spend a lot of time on the phone with my mom to keep her company.

"Wow, no siblings? You must've been so spoiled!" I've become used to hearing responses like these when people find out I'm an only child. In fact, I've even perfected my fake-polite smile.

But the truth is, deep down, it makes my blood boil when people assume these stereotypes are true. For one, being raised by a single mom on food stamps hardly shaps someone into a spoiled brat. But even if I did have two doting parents to give me their undivided resources and attention, one fact remains: being an only child may mean not sharing toys. Still, it also means not sharing the responsibility of being there for your parents.

I am the only one acting as a caregiver for my aging and ailing parents. Growing up as an only child made me innately independent. I like to work alone, and I have a hard time reaching out for support. As I get older and my parents' health declines, I've had to get better at asking for help.

I feel jealous of people with siblings — especially during health emergencies.

While many people have expressed jealousy at my only child status, I often felt my life would have been easier if I had siblings to lean on. When my husband's parents are recovering from an illness, injury, or surgery, for example, he has three sisters who can share the burden of helping them.

Meanwhile, when my mom returned home recently from a physical rehabilitation program following a bone infection, I had to figure it out all on my own. During especially busy weeks, I yearned for a sibling I could call and ask to step in.

It's not just physical health problems that I have to help my parents navigate solo, either. My mom lives alone and has struggled with depression, so I often worry about her mental health. Since I don't have any siblings who can spend time with her, I tend to stay on the phone with her much longer than I want to or go out of my way to schedule visits even when it's not convenient.

It can feel like a lot of pressure to be the sole person making these decisions. I often question whether I'm doing the "right" thing and fantasize about what it would be like to have a brother or sister I could call for input.

Sometimes it makes me question if I could handle kids of my own

I got married and turned 35 last summer — and ever since then, friends and family members have been asking whether we plan to start a family. The truth is, I don't know.

While the idea of experiencing motherhood is exciting to me, I also know that raising a child is a massive responsibility. And I'm not sure if I can manage that responsibility when I'm already caring for my parents — even with my husband sharing half the work.

As it is, I already have days when I can barely get all my work done, get enough sleep, and maintain basic self-care. I can't imagine what might happen if I added in an infant who's completely dependent on me for survival.

Last week, when a family member inquired about whether or not I'm having kids, my irritation bubbled over, and I quipped — "What do you mean? I already have one:my mom." They laughed awkwardly and never brought it up again.

But I'm also learning an important lesson about asking for help.

I believe the reason I'm so self-reliant and independent today is that I didn't grow up with any siblings to play with, teach me how to do things or help me with tasks. I learned to entertain myself by reading books, letting my imagination run wild while playing with dolls, writing songs on my keyboard, or just daydreaming outside. My mom often says that when she tried to step in and show me how to do something during my childhood, I declined her assistance in favor of figuring it out myself. I actually dreaded group projects and often asked my teachers if I could just complete the assignment on my own.

While I'm proud of this independence, I know that there are times in life when I can — and should — accept support. These days, I don't really have a choice. When an aunt or uncle used to propose making a phone call to my mom's doctor so I didn't have to, or my mother-in-law asked if my mom needed a ride to a family gathering, I used to refuse their kind offers. Then, one day, my therapist asked: "If you're so overwhelmed, why aren't you accepting their help?"

It felt uncomfortable at first to say "yes" — I had to keep reminding myself that if someone didn't want to do something, they wouldn't have offered. Over time, though, it's become easier and easier to let people share the burden with me. I've even managed to reach out and ask someone to help me — something that used to feel so awkward and uncomfortable for me before.

I'm also realizing my sibling fantasies are just that — fantasies

A while back, I was lamenting how alone I feel in caring for my parents as they age when a friend said something that shifted my perspective.

"Trust me, just because I have a brother and sister doesn't mean it's any easier," she told me.

My friend went on to explain that she couldn't count how many times she'd reached out for help from her siblings, who claimed they were too busy to pitch in. She shared stories of how her siblings fought with her over decisions she made about her parents' care — despite the fact that they lived all the way across the country and weren't nearly as aware of what they needed.

It made me realize two things. Just as having kids isn't a guarantee that they'll take care of you when you get old, having siblings doesn't guarantee you'll have any less caretaking responsibility for your aging parents. Also, not only do siblings not always offer support when you need it most, but in some cases, they can actually complicate things.

Are there times when I still yearn for a brother or sister to swoop in and take some of the weight off me in meeting my parents' needs? Sure. But as they say — "the grass is always greener." And what's to say having siblings would translate to less of a burden on me? As with most of life's challenges, I'm choosing to focus on the lesson — and it's a valuable one: Asking for help may be hard, but bearing the burden alone is so much harder.

• Journalist Steve Fishman was interning at a newspaper when he was picked up as a hitchhiker. 
• Six months later, he found out that the driver was a serial killer and he could have been a victim.
• The case drove his career as a true crime writer, and he's recorded a podcast about what he learned.

When journalist Steve Fishman did an exclusive jailhouse interview with a serial killer and rapist, he had one particularly important question to ask.

"Why didn't you kill me?" the rookie reporter asked Robert Frederick Carr III as they sat in a cell in 1976.

"I thought you were too big," the felon said, referring to the moment he eyed Fishman as his next victim after giving him a ride as a hitchhiker the previous fall.

Nearly 50 years later, Fishman has reflected on his narrow escape in the true-crime podcast, "Smoke Screen: My Friend, The Serial Killer."

Fishman told Business Insider he realized he was naive when he first covered the story. "I guess I tried to understand and humanize him," he said, noting that his coverage focused heavily on the lack of psychological treatment for sex offenders at the time.

But, with the wisdom he has gained in his career and as a father of three, he described Carr as a "monster" who showed no remorse.

Fishman thought the driver who picked him up would be an interesting subject of a story

Fishman first met Carr at the age of 19 while hitchhiking. He was a poorly paid intern at a local newspaper and needed a ride to his workplace in Norwich, CT.

Carr drew up in his sedan, beckoned Fishman inside, and introduced himself as "Red." Balding with wisps of ginger hair, he was about a decade older than the hitchhiker.

"I run up excitedly," Fishman said. "But I'm also anxious because you never know what will be on the other side of that car door. I'm not a big guy and didn't shave then, so I looked younger than I was."

But Carr put his mind at ease, telling him he also lived in Norwich and knew a shortcut to their destination. "He seemed amiable, personable, and completely unthreatening," Fishman told BI.

His journalist radar went off when Carr disclosed that he'd recently been released from prison. "Instead of it setting off an alarm bell, I thought, 'maybe this could be a story, and I could interview him about his challenges getting back into the community.'"

Carr said he would interested in appearing in the paper and gave Fishman his phone number. The plan was for the intern to speak to Carr's probation team first.

Still, Fishman got scared after telling the driver where to pull over. "I said goodbye, but the handle on the door didn't work," he said. "It was anomalous — enough to cause a moment of anxiety and almost panic."

To his relief, Carr said, "Sorry, I've got to get that door fixed." He told him to wind down the window and release the handle from the outside. Fishman left safely after wishing him a great day and promising to follow up on the story.

But the idea didn't come off. Carr's probation supervisor nixed it.

Disappointed, Fishman tossed Carr's number into the back of a file and got on with his job at The Norwich Bulletin. He mostly covered high school sports games and other family events such as Easter egg hunts.

Six months after he met Carr, he saw the man's photograph on a breaking news alert.

The report from the Associated Press described Carr's arrest for the attempted rape of a hitchhiker in Florida. He had shocked police by confessing to kidnapping and raping more than a dozen people and murdering four of them.

"I can still feel the shudder when I read it," Fishman said.

The journalist's biggest scoop was a jailhouse interview

He dug out Carr's number. His wife answered and agreed to be interviewed.

The reporter covered every aspect of the story, including Carr's sentencing deal. The murderer agreed to lead detectives to the places where four of his victims were buried. A judge gave him three life terms plus 360 years instead of the death penalty.

One of Fishman's biggest scoops was securing the face-to-face interview with Carr behind bars. "I was captivated by the excitement, the dead bodies, the deadlines, and the sense of purpose."

The journalist, who was then 20, said Carr's agenda dictated the conversation.

"He held forth for a couple of days, sitting at the head of the table in this little room," he said. "He intended to convince me and make me listen."

Carr, who died of prostate cancer in 2007 at the age of 63, discussed why he'd spared Fishman's life. He recalled every detail of the encounter and told his near victim that his size had warned him off.

The journalist said the killer painted himself as the victim as the state had not provided him with therapy. "I took it very seriously — as I would do now," Fishman, who won national and regional press awards for reporting on the case, said.

The two men developed a friendship and frequently bantered on the phone. "He'd call collect to the newsroom from jail and joke around with me and the editors," Fishman said.

Meanwhile, his career flourished. He told BI that his experience with Carr helped "define" his journalism. "It gave me a deep hunger for being inside the story and wanting to understand it."

Fishman went on to interview the so-called "Son of Sam" serial killer David Berkowitz, in the 2000s. The murderer is serving a life sentence for crimes committed in the mid-70s. He also interviewed the notorious Ponzi schemer Bernie Madoff, sentenced to 150 years, before he died in 2021.

Now a father, he said that if he could have advised his younger self, he would have told the rookie to consider the human cost of the case more closely.

"At that point, I was extremely ambitious and driven," Fishman, whose children are 21, 15, and 2, said. "There was this seduction of having extreme access to this guy, so I told his story as he wanted. What I missed — but what I've learned a second time around — was that this guy was irredeemable."

• Former President Donald Trump named Sen. JD Vance of Ohio as his running mate on Monday. 
• But Trump isn't the first person to have spotted Vance's potential.
• Celebrity professor Amy Chua took Vance under her wing while he was studying at Yale Law School. 

Sen. JD Vance of Ohio has come a long way since graduating from Yale Law School in 2013.

The former venture capitalist-turned-politician's career trajectory got a big boost on Monday when former President Donald Trump named him running mate.

"As Vice President, JD will continue to fight for our Constitution, stand with our troops, and will do everything he can to help me make America great again," Trump said in a Truth Social post.

Vance does have benefactors, like tech billionaire Peter Thiel. But before Thiel, Vance caught a big break when he was still in law school.

The Marine veteran enrolled at Yale Law School in 2010 after graduating from Ohio State University.

In his 2016 memoir "Hillbilly Elegy," Vance likened his year at the Ivy League institution to attending a kind of "nerd Hollywood." Besides earning his law degree, Yale would also be where the seeds of his political career would be sown.

It was at Yale where Vance gained a mentor in the form of his contract law professor, Amy Chua, 61.

Chua, who earned her bachelor's and law degree from Harvard, pursued a career in corporate law before leaving for academia. She first taught at Duke Law School before joining Yale in 2001.

Chua, who gained notoriety for her 2011 memoir "Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother," encouraged Vance to write "Hillbilly Elegy."

"I always thought JD was destined for great things, and that going the conventional route would actually slow him down," Chua said of Vance in a 2017 interview with The Atlantic.

Representatives for Vance and Chua did not respond to requests for comment from Business Insider.

Vance's bestselling memoir "Hillbilly Elegy" wouldn't have existed without Chua's help

Besides reading Vance's drafts, Chua introduced him to her own literary agent, Tina Bennett. In the "Acknowledgments" section of "Hillbilly Elegy," Vance thanked both Bennett and Chua for their support.

"Besides Tina, the person who deserves the most credit for this book's existence is Amy Chua, my Yale contracts professor, who convinced me that both my life and the conclusions I drew from it were worth putting down on paper," Vance wrote.

"She has the wisdom of a respected academic and the confident delivery of a Tiger Mother, and there were many times that I needed (and benefited) from both," he continued.

Chua was also a huge cheerleader for Vance's book, which she helped to promote.

"When the book first came out, she probably emailed every single television producer and personality in the United States of America," Vance told The Atlantic in 2017.

"It's true, I emailed everybody. There were these creepy emails to people like Tom Brokaw, with lots of smiley faces and exclamation points," Chua said in the same interview.

The efforts ended up paying off, with "Hillbilly Elegy" becoming a bestseller in 2016. The book has sold at least 1.6 million copies to date, according to market research company Circana, the AP reports.

Vance's public profile was boosted even further after Trump's victory in 2016's presidential election.

Some news outlets even started calling Vance the "Trump whisperer" because of the book's focus on the poverty and social decay that was afflicting America's Rust Belt states.

Vance also got some relationship advice from Chua

In his memoir, Vance said he'd asked Chua to recommend him for a federal judge clerkship. Chua agreed, though she ultimately tried to dissuade him from proceeding with his application.

"I think you're doing this for the credential, which is fine, but the credential doesn't actually serve your career goals," Chua told Vance, who was already in a relationship with his law school classmate Usha Chilukuri, per Vance's memoir.

"This clerkship is the type of thing that destroys relationships. If you want my advice, I think you should prioritize Usha and figure out a career move that actually suits you," Chua said.

Vance ended up following Chua's advice. He married Chilukuri in 2014, a year after graduating from Yale.

"Amy's advice stopped me from making a life-altering decision. It prevented me from moving a thousand miles away from the person I eventually married," Vance wrote in his memoir.

"Most important, it allowed me to accept my place at this unfamiliar institution — it was okay to chart my own path and okay to put a girl above some shortsighted ambition. My professor gave me permission to be me," he added.

That said, a lot has happened after Vance left Yale to start his career.

Vance, who told a former Yale classmate in 2016 that he thought Trump could become "America's Hitler," has since metamorphosed into a devout supporter of the former president.

In 2022, Vance was elected as Ohio's junior senator after securing Trump's endorsement.

It is not clear how Chua feels about Vance's abrupt turn toward Trump and the politics now he represents. The celebrity professor came under fire in 2018 after she endorsed Brett Kavanaugh when Trump nominated him to the Supreme Court.

Chua, who continues to teach at Yale, declined to comment on her one-time protégé's embrace of Trumpism in an interview with the Financial Times' Edward Luce in 2021.

"I never turn on my students," she said.

• Bad experiences with talent acquisition can lead job seekers to ghost employers, a FlexJobs report finds.
• Other reasons they may ghost include unpaid work in the interview and a bait-and-switch on remote work policies.
• Ghosting on either side can have repercussions; sending even a simple email can help avoid trouble.

While it's generally more common for job seekers to never hear back from potential employers, ghosting can go both ways. Some job applicants may withdraw their candidacy without saying so, disappearing in the middle of the hiring process.

Knowing why they do so can help companies address issues in the hiring process to better attract, hire, and retain talent.

The biggest reasons job candidates said they ghost prospective employers have to do with bad experiences with talent acquisition, according to a report published Monday by FlexJobs and MyPerfectResume.

"The key touch points with HR and hiring managers during the hiring process all give job seekers information," said Toni Frana, lead career expert at FlexJobs. "Do they receive emails in a timely manner? Is the interview done shortly after the application happens? What is the tone of the messages that a job seeker receives in those touchpoints? All of those things help a job seeker determine if the culture would be a good fit for them and if this would be someplace that they would want to work."

The survey polled more than 2,000 professionals based in the United States in June. One question asked, "What factors would make you ghost an employer or pull out of the interview process?" Here's the breakdown of how they responded:

• Disorganized or unprofessional hiring manager (67%)
• Lack of communication (61%)
• Told the job is remote, but is actually hybrid or in-office (60%)
• Negative company culture (53%)
• Job doesn't align with personal values (45%)
• Unfavorable company reviews or reputation (43%)
• Poor employee benefits or compensation (43%)
• Unpaid work during interview (30%)
• Recent layoffs by the company (25%)

And while it may be tempting to ghost, remember that doing so could have repercussions — on both sides.

If you're a job candidate, consider "sending a simple email to your point of contact, explaining that you would like to move in a different direction and you wanted to let them know you appreciate all the time they have spent with you up until that point, can really go a long way," Frana said.

Employers should also let candidates know they're moving in a different direction and thank them for their time and effort in applying.

With any application, "the outcome might not be getting the job or offering the job," Frana added. But letting a candidate or prospective employer know before you go is "at least is a more positive end than just dropping communication altogether."

Have you ghosted a prospective employer before, or have another job search story to share? We'd like to hear from you. Contact this reporter at sjackson@businessinsider.com.

• Many experts have attempted to recreate ancient beer using recipes that are thousands of years old.
• Max Miller of 'Tasting History' brewed a 3,800-year-old Sumerian beer based on a hymn.
• Much is unknown about what the beers were like, but you can make your own version in a few days.

A Utah man recently spent months collecting ingredients and brewing beer with an ancient strain of yeast to recreate a 3,000-year-old beer. But if you don't have the time to source Yemeni sidr honey, frankincense, and Egyptian balsam fruit, you can still get an idea of what ancient beer tasted like with a little help from Max Miller, the creator of the "Tasting History" series on YouTube.

Last year, Miller made a video showing how he brewed a 3,800-year-old Sumerian beer from a region of Mesopotamia. While he often follows historical recipes, for the ancient beverage he had to rely on a hymn about a brewer. In the video, he compared it to trying to bake a dessert based on the "Patty Cake" nursery rhyme.

While that meant there was a lot of guessing involved, there was less chance of getting it wrong.

"If you just follow the basic steps, you'll end up with something that might be correct," Miller told Business Insider.

The basic ingredients for an ancient beer

People have been making beer in various forms for thousands of years, all over the world. Archaeologists think they may have even found a 13,000-year-old brewery in Israel.

Since Miller isn't an expert in ancient beer, he relied on archaeologist Tate Paulette's research to figure out how to create a recipe from the "Hymn to Ninkasi," which dates to around 1,800 BCE, making it 3,800 years old.

Paulette found that most of the written descriptions and brewers' receipts included the same basic ingredients: malted barley, bappir, a mix of raw and roasted grains, date syrup, and aromatics. No one knows for sure what bappir is, but Paulette thinks it refers to a dried cake of something similar to a sourdough starter.

To make his version, Miller used water, barley, barley flour, a sourdough starter, coriander, cardamom, date syrup, and brewer's yeast.

Here are his instructions:

• Day 1: Cover a cup of barley in water and leave it to soak.
• Day 2: For the bappir, mix 1.5 cups of barley flour with 1.5 cups of sourdough starter and 0.5 cups of water. Knead the dough on a clean surface for five minutes. Put the dough in a clean bowl then cover it it with a towel for a day so it can rise.
• Strain the barley from day one, and put it in cheesecloth. Let the cheesecloth hang suspended for two to three days to allow it to sprout. (Miller used the handle from a kitchen cabinet.) Spray the cheesecloth a few times a day so it doesn't dry out.
• Day 3: Use the dough from day two to make a flat, round loaf. Leave it uncovered to dry for a day.
• Day 4: Bake the dried loaf at 300°F for no more than 10 minutes on a baking sheet with parchment paper.
• Set the oven to 200°F, and arrange the sprouted barley on an unlined baking sheet. Bake for two to three hours, then leave them uncovered to dry out.
• Day 5: Turn the barley into powder with a mortar and pestle or a food processor. Cover the crushed barley with water and soak it for two hours.
• Crumble the dried loaf into pieces. It needs to dry for longer than two hours.
• Put the crumbled loaf in a large jar with the soaked barley and its liquid. Add in aromatics and 0.5 cups of date syrup.
• Pour in a gallon of water and stir. Cover the jug with cheesecloth and let it sit in a dark place for two to three days.
• Day 7 or 8: Strain the beer through a sieve. The beer is ready to serve but will start to go bad after two days.

Exactly what Mesopotamian brewers used for aromatics is another mystery, but coriander, cardamom, fennel, and cumin are all possibilities, as are juniper berries, honey, figs, plums, and other fruits, herbs, and spices.

Mixing and matching those options will result in different outcomes. "Just the smallest change in what you're adding into it can really affect the flavor quite a bit," Miller said.

When you add the ingredients can impact its strength, too. Putting date syrup in early in the process will up the alcohol content, while adding it later will just make the end result sweeter. Some experts aren't sure if ancient beer was even alcoholic at all.

However strong they were, ancient brews came in several varieties. Texts from around 2,500 BCE describe golden, dark, sweet, dark red, and strained beers.

Ancient beer is different from today's ales

Don't expect your hymn-inspired homebrew to resemble anything you can buy at the store. Beers based on ancient recipes generally end up cloudy and chunky. That's pretty authentic to how it would have been thousands of years ago.

"It is so different from what we think of as beer today," Miller said. "It's drunk through a straw, for goodness sake." That was likely to help avoid some of the clumps of grain or cake.

Developments in microbiology and technology like thermometers changed brewing techniques over the last few centuries. Some ingredients have changed, too, like the types of yeast used. There's also no evidence that ancient beer makers used hops, which is a ubiquitous ingredient today.

Miller's main tip is to just try brewing your own version if you're curious because there's really no wrong way to do it. "Just be patient," he said, "because these older dishes, they do take more time. But they're fun, and it's a fun summer project."