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Remi never intended to secretly outsource her job. It sort of just happened.

After graduating from college in 2019 with a degree in education, the Gen Zer found work at a Chicago publishing company. She did not love it. Most of her colleagues were decades older than her, and their struggles to use basic software forced her to become a one-woman IT operation. The work itself was uninspiring and relentless: On most days she juggled presentation slides, managed spreadsheets and databases, and formatted page layouts.

The pandemic provided a respite from the tedium of in-office interactions. But it didn't lessen her workload, and she quietly began asking her boyfriend, a STEM major working in a lab, for occasional help. Certain she'd be fired for it, she didn't tell her employer.

Then her mother died.

Remi was appointed executor of the estate, and settling her mother's affairs was a never-ending nightmare: wading through countless gambling debts, maintaining the crumbling family home, and distributing the few remaining assets. Though she took a leave of absence from work and continued to rely on her boyfriend when she returned, she couldn't keep up. Soon, she also turned to a childhood friend, who was unemployed and needed money. Remi proposed a plan: She'd pay her friend $100 a book to help with editing and formatting, saving her hours of work every week. The friend eagerly accepted. Her colleagues, meanwhile, remained clueless.

And just like that — although she didn't know it — Remi had become part of a hidden movement that went far beyond her Chicago publishing company.

Across the globe, a wave of workers are secretly outsourcing parts or all of their jobs. Labor has never been easier to invisibly offload, thanks to a perfect storm of factors: globalized social networks, ubiquitous software tools, and the pandemic. An inadvertent byproduct of the rapacious, profit-seeking impulse that drives our global economy, this corporate subterfuge stretches from high-powered Silicon Valley techies to legions of low-paid helpers in India and Pakistan.

Welcome to the world of shadow stand-ins.

Stories about covert outsourcing are nothing new. Essay mills and faux test-taking have become perennial problems in academia, and gig-economy workers are occasionally caught lending their accounts to friends. Walter Keane gained notoriety in the 1960s for passing off "big eyes" paintings by his wife, Margaret, as his own. In 2012, a Verizon engineer was caught farming out his work to a team in China so he could browse Reddit all day. But in most workplaces, the idea of hiring someone to do your job for you seemed so outlandish that The Onion satirized it in 2009 as the natural endpoint to globalization and American laziness.

No longer.

I talked to dozens of players in the shadow stand-in economy, including people like Remi, hired helpers, and those who have watched colleagues or friends partake. (Citing reputational or professional risks, most spoke on condition of anonymity or asked to be identified only by their first or middle name.) Given its clandestine nature, it's difficult to know just how many people the network scoops up. But providers told me they had seen a surge in popularity since 2020, a consequence of the pandemic and its attendant remote-work revolution. The past four years have transformed workplace norms, liberating millions from commutes and precipitating a wave of alienation from professional life — while providing eye-watering opportunities for the hungry or unscrupulous.

"It becomes very easy for people to take the support when working from home," said one shadow stand-in who lives in India and who has been in business since 2019. "After the pandemic," said another from Pakistan, the industry "boomed."

There's no one model for how shadow stand-ins work, and practitioners use different terms: outsourcing, delegating, proxy work, subcontracting, virtual assistants, offshoring, or the delightfully euphemistic "job support." It ranges from doling out small tasks to providing someone login credentials for full remote access. Some people want a mentor, some want a crutch after using "proxy interview" services to cheat their way through the hiring process, and some just want the productivity guru Tim Ferriss' "4-Hour Workweek" on steroids. Others use the free time to rake in cash by working multiple jobs, a twist on the concept of overemployment.

Though Remi recruited people she knew, shadow stand-ins are often sourced from a complex online web of faceless providers. Sites like Fiverr and Upwork are common conduits; a designer in the Southwestern US told me he would periodically hire two freelancers for the same job and discard the inferior work. Platforms like Facebook, Telegram, and WhatsApp are full of job support groups with thousands of members each. dedicated to matching providers and users. In one recent Facebook post, an Atlanta man struggling with his Salesforce-related job offered half his salary to anyone willing to quietly hold his hand through tasks and meetings. In another, a woman in San Jose, California, working for a major tech firm asked for help with a short programming assignment.

"Job support is nothing bad," Raj Kumar, the Bengaluru, India-based cofounder of Onlinejobsupport.net, told me. He simply sees it as an "advanced version of training." Like many professional job-support firms, his team often acts as a kind of black-market IT helpdesk, using screen-sharing software to dial in to their clients' computers for a few hours a day to give pointers as they work — or completing the work themselves if the client would rather be elsewhere.

You could hire shadow stand-ins in many workplaces, assuming your boss isn't looking too closely. But it's much more common in jobs in technology and IT. SaaS tools and tech services like Salesforce, ServiceNow, and Amazon Web Services have become the plumbing for our global economy, used by everyone from fast-fashion retailers to nonprofits, and their cookie-cutter systems make it easy for anyone with the right skills to quietly step in.

For the past few years, an American Java developer named Kevin has been living in Southeast Asia and outsourcing his jobs — all three of them. With the help of a Filipino friend acting as a recruiter, he brought on three local "virtual assistants," offloading nearly all of his technical work. He writes formal assignment sheets for each worker; "Implement a test for valid JSON in POST content," reads a typical directive.

Needless to say, none of his employers — finance and construction firms — know about one another, and his workers are similarly in the dark. Even his location is a secret: He told his bosses he was based in the United States, and he works nights to avoid detection. "It's low-cost labor or low cost of living, mostly," Kevin explained. "I'm making three American incomes, but I'm paying Filipino rates to live."

He's an extreme example of a user of shadow stand-ins. But whether they're juggling multiple jobs or outsourcing the odd task, they tend to have one thing in common: a deep skepticism of traditional corporate values.

Some believe if the work gets done, no matter how unconventionally, there's no problem. "Everybody has a different moral compass and a different thing that they say: 'This crosses the line for me,'" said Andrew, a consultant in Colorado who has outsourced work to freelancers and family members. He views "quiet quitting" — deliberately coasting at work — as far more odious. "I don't believe somebody hires me for my time. They hire me to get results for them," he said.

Others, like the Southern California developer Brandon Nowak, have contemplated dipping their toe in the water. He told me that shadow stand-ins are an inevitable outcome to our system of making money. "Companies themselves are taking advantage of you, by hiring you to do work which they reap more value from you than they give to you. That is the basis of capitalism," he said. "I'm not an anti-capitalist necessarily, but I don't fault anyone — myself included — for looking to turn those tables on the companies themselves."

There is one wrinkle to this line of thinking. Some shadow stand-in connoisseurs — particularly those who ship their work to offshore helpers earning much less — are arguably replicating the same structures they're trying to rebel against.

"For-profit corporations are government-sanctioned psychopaths, existing only to predatorily and parasitically earn profit," Kevin said. "Corporations are owed no moral obligation whatsoever, any more than a hen owes a fox moral consideration. The only rational response is to extract as much as possible."

But, he conceded, "I readily admit I can't provide a consistent response to the problem of pushing predator-parasite further down the line."

Soon after hiring her friend, Remi had an awkward realization: They were bad at the job.

Sometimes, they made glaring errors. Reformatted manuscripts came back with page numbers inserted into paragraphs, or charts were missing data. Remi effectively demoted them, adjusting the arrangement to pay $10 for each individual chapter, but that created new problems: Since they took hours to complete what usually took her 30 minutes, she was effectively paying them less than minimum wage.

Their friendship suffered, too. "I'd give soft corrections on how I would like the work to be done, and they would be a little defensive about it, or wouldn't take the note," Remi said.

After two months, Remi decided to fire them, fibbing that she simply no longer needed help. She turned back to her boyfriend, who began working for her more consistently.

The dustup highlighted a key drawback to shadow stand-ins: While alluring, things can go horribly wrong.

Half a dozen workers at different companies in the US and India told me they knew of colleagues who had secretly outsourced work. Problems invariably piled up, they said: The work was inadequate; there were inconsistencies in communication; and organizational chaos abounded.

"If you can't trust your employee — if they're dishonest and they're not telling you the truth about one thing — that could mean that they're not telling you the truth about other things," said Amber Clayton, a senior director at the Society for Human Resource Management, an HR industry body. "I wouldn't want that individual within the organization, because who knows what they would do?"

Even when it goes right, managing a secret helper or two can be laborious. Your conventional workload may be lightened, but it's replaced with finding and vetting helpers, delegating tasks, reviewing the completed work, and living in constant fear of being found out. "It required a lot of micromanaging," said a backend engineer in Pennsylvania who hired shadow stand-ins to help him juggle multiple jobs. "It's like you were working — but then on top of that, it became another task of just managing them."

Occasionally, the problems can have implications far beyond the workplace.

In December, Tim Woodruff, a ServiceNow developer in Washington state, got a curious LinkedIn message from a "consulting" firm. "We will send job applications to remote jobs and schedule job interviews for you," the message read. If he got the job, the firm promised to "attend everything related to programming." All he had to do for whatever role he landed was attend meetings, and give the firm half of his salary.

Woodruff despised workplace deception, even joining job support and proxy interview-focused Telegram groups to disrupt them in his spare time. "I'm autistic, and rules help me make sense of the world, and I don't like it when they're just ignored and no one seems to care," he told me. He decided to go along with the chicanery to see where it led.

He joined the firm's Slack channel and let it apply for jobs on his behalf, even attending some job interviews. He said he noticed a disquieting trend: Many of the jobs he was interviewing for had national security implications, including tech consultancies working with the Secret Service and the Department of the Treasury. Other applications were to financial institutions. Woodruff said he reported the firm to the FBI. (A bureau spokesperson said they couldn't confirm the existence of any investigations.)

Ranjan, a software engineer from Bengaluru, is regularly approached by job-support firms trying to hire him to work for their clients. "We will keep your name, all data confidential. We do not deduct tax from your salary," one recruiter wrote to him on LinkedIn. "Your package will be Beautiful, trust me."

The pitch hints at the stark economic power disparity that underpins shadow stand-ins, he told me: Most job support comes from countries like India and Pakistan, where wages are low and "desperate" workers will provide cheap labor. Pay rates for shadow stand-ins are "definitely more than what people earn in their regular payday, that's for sure," he said.

Despite mixed feelings about the practice, Kiran, a shadow stand-in based in Bengaluru, has continued to provide help because of the money he earns. "They are faking," he said of clients. He has watched, frustrated, as clients coast through high-paying jobs, lying about skills and taking job opportunities "which are supposed to be for honest people who are actually experienced."

Still, Western pay remains an alluring prospect to many. "I think it's a win-win situation," said Rahul, an Indian developer whose friends have provided job support and who is interested in doing it himself. "We get paid peanuts anyway, so this is an extra source of income. It usually pays better, too." Andrew, the Colorado consultant, argued that both parties agree on a price they're happy with. "I feel like I pay people fairly," he told me.

Peter Steele, a Michigan developer, has an Upwork account and receives unsolicited pitches several times a year offering to apply for and complete jobs using his name in return for a slice of salary. "They talk about how getting clients is extremely difficult when you're not based out of the United States," he said.

High demand has paved the way for intermediaries who match clients and helpers — a veritable nesting doll of outsourced hustle. Many of them aren't shy about their businesses: Kumar's job support firm Onlinejobsupport.net, for example, claims on its website to have more than 500 happy clients across 25 countries — focusing on popular systems or tools like Java, AWS, Hadoop, and React. (It might be wise to be skeptical of any one provider's marketing claims, but there's clearly a bustling ecosystem.)

Many of these intermediaries aren't shy about their business, either. You can even find some marketing their services on LinkedIn.

The pandemic years were a boom time for shadow stand-ins. Now the winds are shifting.

Return-to-office has forced some delegators to give it up — it's harder to screen-share and outsource tasks if you're sitting in a cubicle — while others are reduced to huddling with helpers after returning home. Providers told me they're feeling the pinch, but there's no putting the genie back in the bottle.

The model has been proved, the global supply chain is there, and worker attitudes have shifted. "If I died at my desk tomorrow, my job would be posted online before my funeral," said one Oregon worker whose colleague tried to outsource their job.

Others question why secret delegating might be stigmatized more than other tactics. "Assuming you are not sharing proprietary data," Andrew, the Colorado consultant, asked, "what is the difference from outsourcing your work vs using an AI or software tool to automate your work?"

And while shadow stand-ins feel like a uniquely modern, internet-enabled phenomenon, its roots run much deeper. "Historically, at least in certain trades, both in the US and other countries, the household unit was the unit employed to do the work," said Michel Anteby, a professor of management and sociology at Boston University. He offered up the New England spinning industry as an example. "No one really cared or tracked if it was the husband, the wife, the kids who are doing the job."

Remi fits neatly within that framework.

Her boyfriend, it turned out, was a great worker. He could swiftly complete technical tasks that usually took her all day, and she didn't pay him; they had already merged finances when her mother died. They continued the arrangement until she quit a year later. But even after she left, Remi received intermittent texts from old coworkers asking for help. She never replied. She had no interest in letting the company exploit her labor.

Today, the Chicagoan has no regrets. "I personally come from a background where I am very anti-corporation," she told me. "I don't personally see the harm in it — especially because if my company isn't going to do its best to keep me happy and healthy, and have my best interests in mind, then that falls upon me to ensure that that's happening for myself."

Remi now works in an education-related field. Her boyfriend is employed as a remedial tutor at a school, and she sometimes lends him a hand, formatting his presentation slides and doing other miscellaneous work.

His employer doesn't know, and the couple have no plans to stop.

Rob Price is a senior correspondent for Business Insider and writes features and investigations about the technology industry. If you have experience with shadow stand-ins, you can contact him via Signal/WhatsApp at +1 650-636-6268 or email at rprice@businessinsider.com.

• Kettlebell sport champ Jennifer Hintenberger shared the smoothie recipe she uses to start the day.
• Ingredients like spinach, cherries, ginger, and turmeric can help speed recovery and prevent illness.
• Hintenberger has been vegan for over a decade and said it helped her manage serious health issues. 

An elite athlete said she starts every day with a smoothie full of greens, fruit, and other anti-inflammatory plants to help her feel and perform her best.

Jennifer Hintenberger, who holds multiple world records in kettlebell sport, told Business Insider that switching to a vegan diet helped her manage chronic health issues like irritable bowel syndrome (IBS) and polycystic ovary syndrome (PCOS).

The 43-year-old Canadian athlete is part of the Vegan Strong PlantBuilt roster, which includes plant-based bodybuilders and powerlifters.

She said that her typical day of eating includes as many as 20 servings of fruit, starting with a nutrient-packed morning smoothie.

Her recipe includes:

• Spinach — rich in iron, calcium, and vitamin C for a healthy brain and heart.
• Banana — full of potassium, magnesium, fiber for healthy digestion, and carbohydrates for energy.
• Frozen fruit — adds flavor and texture. Hintenberger's go-to, cherries, are also linked to reduced muscle soreness and better recovery.
• Ginger — has been studied for a range of health benefits ranging from reducing inflammation to improving digestion.
• Turmeric — contains a compound called curcumin with science-backed anti-inflammatory and antioxidant benefits.
• Black pepper — can work in tandem with turmeric to boost its benefits, but also adds beneficial compounds of its own which may help regulate blood sugar and prevent illnesses.
• Maca root — a plant native to the Andes, it's often used in powdered form to provide amino acids and promote healthy hormones, although research is still ongoing.
• Plant-based protein powder — helps to make the smoothie more filling and supports muscle-building and maintenance. Hintenberger opts for vanilla flavor.

The blend is not only full of nutrients and disease-fighting polyphenols, it also tastes delicious, according to Hintenberger.

"I bounce out of bed, I'm so excited to have it," she said.

• My partner and I were monogamous for the first six years of our relationship.
• Now, we are nonmonogamous, and neither of us wears our wedding rings.
• It's a never-ending journey, and we've learned a lot about ourselves and each other.

My partner Sean and I started dating in 2013 and married in 2019. We were monogamous for six years and began our journey with polyamory around the same time we decided to get married. After a disastrous attempt, we reverted back to monogamy one year later, only to open the door to polyamory again in 2021.

Our reasons for exploring the relationship style again were vastly different. Sean is an easy-going and open-minded person. He's never been the jealous type, and polyamory naturally appealed to him.

I decided to try polyamory again because of some feelings I was having after I stopped wearing my wedding ring. Maybe it sounds a little ridiculous that I made a big decision over a piece of jewelry, and at the time, I didn't quite put together how the two things were related. Years later, after much introspection, I found my answer.

Wedding rings are supposed to symbolize to the world we are committed to one person forever. Polyamory, for us, is a lifestyle where we can explore ourselves more deeply and with other people. For me, wearing a wedding ring felt at odds with my desire to be nonmonogamous.

Initially, I couldn't wait to wear my ring

I was excited about wearing my wedding ring, but Sean was indifferent about wearing his. That bothered me, but I realized it was too minuscule to get worked up over. Sean and I were already a non-traditional couple, having explored nonmonogamy in the past.

Regardless of our unconventional ways, Sean bought me the perfect wedding ring — two silver cats surrounding a white gold diamond. He couldn't find a ring he wanted, so he asked me to make one with epoxy resin. I did, but it didn't fit him and he didn't press me to make another one. I took his nonchalant attitude personally when, in reality, he just had less attachment to the idea of wearing a ring. Eventually, I also stopped wearing mine.

I worried what my family and friends would say when I took my ring off

Even after becoming less attached to my ring, I worried what others would think. I wondered whether my family and friends would notice and, if they did, how they would perceive us as a couple. I felt the love I shared with my partner might come into question.

A fear of judgment was impacting my choice to wear a ring. It was also affecting my ability to act on my desire to be polyamorous. But since I had worked through the shame that came with going against the societal expectation to wear a wedding ring, I thought we might be ready to try nonmonogamy again.

For me, being in a nonmonogamous dynamic is an act of radical love

As an abolitionist, I work to decolonize my mind and my relationships. I'm not the type of person to claim ownership over another. To me, that is exactly what wearing a wedding ring symbolized: Sean as my property. I didn't want that for us, and he didn't either. Once the ring came off and my research brain turned on, I read more about polyamory, starting with books like "The Ethical Slut: A Practical Guide to Polyamory, Open Relationships & Other Adventures'' and "Polysecure: Attachment, Trauma and Consensual Nonmonogamy."

One difficult aspect of polyamory is working through the insecurities you have to just get started. There are no rigid rules or structures, just rough guidelines. You figure it out as you go and will likely hit some bumps and potholes along the way.

For Sean and me, being in a nonmonogamous relationship means we can be intimately connected with others, both sexually and emotionally. Every new relationship encourages introspection and growth. Sure, you can get that in monogamy, but we're bound to learn more from multiple relationships.

Nonmonogamy is a way for us to celebrate our love. Although insecurities come up — including some I never thought I had — there are good feelings, like compersion, which is when a person feels joy from seeing their partner happy, whether or not that happiness involves them directly. Working through the guilt I felt for not conforming to societal norms was liberating, and I continue to learn more about myself every day.

• Tuscan officials created a $3,000,000 fund to incentivize people to move to the rural countryside.
• The fund will pay people grants of up to $32,000 to move to Tuscany and fix up a home there.
• The grants will pay 50% of the costs of renovations. Applicants must make the property their primary home.

Imagine waking up each morning to a view of the Tuscan countryside, making your home in the romantic Italian region known for its dry red wine, medieval architecture, and groves of olive trees.

Now imagine getting paid to do it.

Tuscan officials launched a new "Residency in the Mountains" program in June. The program created a €2,800,000, or about $3,001,740, fund to encourage people to move to the rural countryside.

The fund, part of an effort to stabilize the country's dwindling population, will pay people grants ranging from €10,000 to €30,000 (about $10,720 to about $32,161) to move to Tuscany and fix up a home there.

"The purpose of the intervention is to favor and encourage the repopulation and socio-economic revitalization of mountain areas, acting in contrast to the marginalization of these areas," the program's website states.

The grants will pay 50% of the costs of renovations of a home in one of 76 Tuscan cities with fewer than 5,000 residents — including San Casciano dei Bagni, known for its thermal pools; Caprese Michelangelo, the birthplace of the renaissance artist of the same name; and the island of Capraia Isola.

The program is open to Italians, EU residents, and non-EU citizens — so long as they have established long-term residency lasting no less than 10 years. Eligible applicants must commit to making the Tuscan property their primary home.

Applications for the program close on July 27.

Representatives for the Public Relations Office of Tuscany did not immediately respond to a request for comment from Business Insider.

Italy has for years experimented with various schemes to attract new residents to its rural regions. The country, which has Europe's smallest share of children under the age of 15, faces a population crisis so significant that nearly 2,500 towns are on the verge of collapse and will not survive more than 25 years, according to a 2016 study released by Italy's Ministry of Environment.

CNN reported last year that there are more than 6,000 ghost villages around the country, left deserted due to migration and natural disasters.

In response, in 2018, new residents in Molise were offered $27,500 to move to the abandoned towns of the mountainous region on the country's eastern coast. The following year, officials in the town of Ollolai put 200 homes on the market for €1 ($1.25) each to avoid the same fate.

Sicily likewise went viral for offering $1 homes for sale, which, despite their desperate need for repair, attracted swarms of expats who flocked to the country to snap up one of the abandoned properties.

Business Insider previously reported that in Sicily, there were time limits for repairs to be completed, officials required buyers to work with specific contractors to finish the work, and renovations cost upwards of $30,000 to complete — but some buyers found it was worth every penny.

I'm not sure whether I should feel guilty for not telling Jessica about the ulterior motives for my palm-reading visit. On the one hand, I probably should have said I was testing it out for a story. On the other hand, she's a psychic, so she should have intuited it.

She didn't, which meant that on a warm June afternoon I found myself seated across from her in a sweaty little basement space in lower Manhattan. For $25, which wound up being $30 because she didn't have change, Jessica told me my fortune. She said that I'm a kind person (true, I hope), that I'm standoffish (also true, unfortunately), and that I'm about to change jobs and move (no and no). She also said I'm afraid to express my creative side through activities like writing, which … well. Toward the end of the reading, Jessica saw something darker, a negative energy holding me back. She suggested I consider a cleansing. The cost: $500.

Many of you are likely rolling your eyes, but plenty of people are open to the idea of the paranormal. In a 2017 survey of American adults by the Pew Research Center, 41% of respondents said they believed in psychics, 42% said they thought spiritual energy could be located in physical things, and 29% said they believed in astrology. In a 2019 IPSOS survey, nearly half of respondents said they believed in ghosts. There's a line between believing in psychics and paying for them, but plenty of people do indeed pay, and even some big businesses are willing to shell out for a consultation. According to IBISWorld, the psychic-services industry in the US is worth $2.3 billion.

I took Jessica's card and told her I'd think about her proposition. I'm inclined to give her the benefit of the doubt that she trusts in her abilities, but even people I know who are into the psychic thing said this didn't sound legitimate, not like the "real" psychics they go to.

In her defense, Jessica (whose name I changed here because I didn't want to screw up her business) had her prices listed outside her shop, and upselling isn't a new phenomenon. It's a little mind-bending to think about how psychics go about setting prices — how they gauge fair costs for their services, decipher what customers will agree to, and use the opacity of the market to their advantage. It's not like there's some tarot price index or many materials that go into the work besides their supposed magical abilities. But for the most part, psychics rely on good old supply and demand, sprinkling in some extra tactics — mystical and not — to bring in profits. The $500 Jessica was asking for might seem worth it to a true believer. Had she gone lower, I might have said yes and paid $50 to get the devil off my back, just in case.

Psychic prices are all over the place. On Sanctuary, an app where you can find astrologists and mediums, many readings start at $5 for five minutes, but then some people charge $3 (or even $13 or $20) per additional minute. The shops you see in major cities may advertise a price of $10 or $25, but that's often just to get people in the door. Psychics and mediums haven't been immune to inflation either. Data provided to me by the online ticketing service Eventbrite indicates the average ticket price for psychic-related events in the US rose to $44 in 2023 from $39 in 2019.

I reached out to a couple of psychics to get a sense of how they approached pricing, and you may not be surprised to learn that the answer wasn't straightforward. Some of it is basic business principles, but a lot of it is pretty woo-woo.

This is a luxury service at the end of the day.

"Many of us live eccentric lifestyles to be permitted to exist the way that we do safely with one foot on either side of the veil," said Blue June, a tarot reader based in New York, adding that they had to keep "regimented and sometimes unusual routines" to be accurate.

June said some of the parameters that determine price are quite mundane: experience and expertise, what nearby competitors charge, customer reviews, and overhead. But there are also some more mystic pieces to her pricing. She charges $55.55 to $155.55 for her services — a dream interpretation is her cheapest offer, while spellwork is the most expensive. (In numerology, 555 is an "angel number" that symbolizes change and transformation.)

"Clients should not approach the inquiry of service prices with a gifted psychic in the same way they approach their grocery bill," June said. "This is a luxury service at the end of the day, and it cannot be defined in the same way as any other shopping can."

Lisa Stardust, a New York-based astrologer, said she sometimes gives free readings to people if they're in pain or have a quick question — but like anyone, she has her limits. "The thing about being so empathetic and having all of this sensitivity to the world is a lot of people can take advantage of that," she said.

She charges $50 for one tarot question answered via email and $200 for a full astrological reading, though she says there's some wiggle room if people can't pay the full amount. She wants people to feel that they got their money's worth, she abides by a code of ethics, and this isn't her only stream of income. "I'm not pushing services on people that they don't deserve or need," she said.

There wouldn't be a supply of psychics out there charging money if there wasn't demand. Value ultimately comes down to how much someone is willing to pay. So why are people willing to pay for what's essentially a guess by a stranger?

If people have got a bereavement and they go to a psychic, having some sort of contact, whether it's genuine or not, with somebody who's passed over actually is reassuring to people.

Neil Dagnall and Ken Drinkwater, a pair of cognitive and parapsychological researchers at Manchester Metropolitan University, have spent years researching people's paranormal beliefs. They said one reason people engage with the paranormal is that they're searching for meaning. They want to resolve life's uncertainties, reaffirm their own beliefs, or gain a sense of closure.

"If people have got a bereavement and they go to a psychic, having some sort of contact, whether it's genuine or not, with somebody who's passed over actually is reassuring to people," Dagnall said.

"Maybe I'm skeptical, but I'm not a debunker, by the way," Drinkwater said. "I end up being compassionate about people's experiences and think that they're real to them."

Some psychics are able to charge what may seem like exorbitant prices because people make inferences about quality based on price. Whatever our motivations for going for a psychic — we think they'll get us in touch with the dead, or we're just doing it for kicks — we don't want the low-budget version. There are limits here, because once you get to $300, chances are you think it's real. But given a choice between a $1 reading or a $20 reading, a lot of people will spring for the $20 one because they figure it's better.

"If it's too cheap, people might assume that it's not good, that it actually isn't effective," said Jane Risen, a professor of behavioral science at the University of Chicago's Booth School of Business who has studied why people might want magical products even if they don't entirely think they work. "In some ways, putting the price on it, making people pay for it, can be part of why people think that it could work."

If you really believe what the psychic will tell you, of course you're going to pay for it. But not everyone who goes to a psychic buys into it. For those in the latter camp, it may come down to emotional management, Risen said. You're pretty sure the psychic won't predict the future or solve your problems, but she might make you feel less worried. Risen's research suggests that while getting a psychic's services doesn't make the bad thing less likely (obviously), it does make us less afraid of it.

"You could imagine purchasing partially for the emotional management of it and partially because you feel like, 'Well, I might as well be better safe than sorry,'" she said. It isn't that different from knocking on wood or drinking that shot of apple cider vinegar in the morning, even though you can't remember what sort of ailment it's supposed to be alleviating.

It should go without saying here that going to a psychic is often fun. Many people derive joy from having their fortunes told and toying with the possibility that what's said might be right. There's often a social element, too — people get their palms read with a group of friends. It's like when the lottery jackpot gets really high and everyone's buying tickets and fantasizing about what they'll do with their riches, even though they know they're not going to win.

There are countless stories about psychic hoaxes. In the early 2000s, the Federal Trade Commission dinged the TV psychic Miss Cleo, accusing her of engaging in deceptive advertising and billing practices. The faith healer Peter Popoff would send his wife and staffers to chat with audience members before his sessions and then pass the intel on to him. But something doesn't have to be a scam to be harmful or predatory.

Psychics have a lot of tools at their disposal to get more money out of people. They may inject a sense of urgency or scarcity, use a bait and switch, or hook you with a cheap service before upselling you. It's not that different from how a lot of businesses work, from car dealerships to e-commerce websites. On the one hand, if something feels good to someone, who is anyone to say it's bad? On the other hand, these practices can become detrimental when people allow them to dictate their important life decisions. "My psychic said" isn't a good reason to buy a stock or to end your marriage.

"If a person's buying into everything that person's telling them," Drinkwater said, "that's problematic."

He and Dagnall told me that most of the psychics they'd interviewed really believed they had abilities and only a handful admitted they didn't. Many are skeptical of other psychics; they don't want the fakes out there giving them a bad name.

Openness is generally a positive quality, but some people are a little too open, to the point they get taken advantage of, said Ralph Lewis, an associate professor in the psychiatry department at the University of Toronto who has an extracurricular interest in "weird" beliefs. "Some people are very open, and some people are not very open, but too much openness equals gullibility, credulity, suggestibility, and so on," he said. "You go too far, then as the skeptics like to say, don't be so open-minded that your brain falls out."

There are all sorts of biases that make people believe in psychics when they shouldn't. There's hindsight bias, where we see past events as more predictable than they were. There's also our tendency to conflate correlation and causation: I give Jessica $500 for the cleansing, I get a promotion at work, and there I am a month later handing over another $500 even though the cleansing had nothing to do with it.

"People are free to spend their money any way they choose, and we're never going to stop them from wasting money on implausible products," Lewis said. "But I do, on the other hand, think that it's not just benign to let people have their magical beliefs and lead them unchallenged."

Dagnall told me — while telling his coresearcher not to laugh — that at one point he started seeing a series of ones all over the place. He looked it up online, and supposedly it was his guardian angel telling him things were going to be fortuitous.

"Now, I know it's not true, but it's just interesting that I was noticing that number, and I wanted to sort of then say, OK, well, if I was into the paranormal, what significance would it have?" he said. "The paranormal is quite seductive in that way, in that it can offer explanations for odd, anomalous things."

His coresearcher did, indeed, laugh.

If it's not obvious by now, I am a psychic skeptic. I've spent a few hundred dollars on mystical stuff over the years at the behest of friends — a psychic fair here, a crystal there — and have almost always felt disappointed. So while reporting for this story, I talked to a friend of a friend named Katy who's really into all of this to try to understand her motivations.

Katy sees her shaman every month for $80. "I literally run my life through her," she told me. She does monthly therapy through a psychic for $105 a session. That psychic is also a pet psychic, which is not Katy's jam. For her horoscope, Katy has a favorite YouTuber who works on tips. She sometimes stops for tarot readings at her local farmer's market. She sees it all as self-care.

"For me, it's a part of my wellness routine," Katy said. "It just happens to be on my checklist."

In a consumerist society, of course some people are willing to pay to commune with the afterlife.

Once, after an accident on her block in Chicago, Katy used a psychic to ensure the person had crossed over. Another time, she bought a bunch of bath oils in New York after a psychic told her she was cursed. She felt that only the latter episode was sketchy; I thought both were.

What's worth it, financially, for Katy would not be worth it for a lot of people. Once you get past necessities, that's true of a lot of things, whether it be a Birkin bag or Taylor Swift tickets or someone who says they can help you talk to your dead dad. We spend money on silly stuff all the time — just ask the NFT people. In a consumerist society, of course some people are willing to pay to commune with the afterlife. And in a capitalist society, of course some people are willing to take their money.

Despite my qualms, the day after I met with Jessica, I texted her to ask what the cleansing entailed. She told me it was "research meditation" to look into my past, present, and future in order to heal my mind, body, and soul. I asked if there were options if I didn't have the $500 she wanted, and she didn't budge. Apparently, Jessica drives a hard bargain.

Emily Stewart is a senior correspondent at Business Insider, writing about business and the economy.

• Rhaenyra Targaryen is one of two candidates fighting for the throne in "House of the Dragon" season two.
• "Game of Thrones" season three made a small nod to Rhaenyra's fate after her bid for the throne.
• Here's how Rhaenyra dies in "Fire and Blood," the show's source material, and potentially the series.

Warning: Major spoilers for the book "Fire and Blood," the first two episodes of "House of the Dragon" season two, and potential spoilers for future episodes of the show.

Rhaenyra Targaryen seems like the better choice to rule Westeros in "House of the Dragon" season two to most viewers, but her story may be going down a dark path if the series strictly follows its source material.

Rhaenyra (Emma D'Arcy) was the named heir to the Iron Throne in "House of the Dragon" season one, but the Hightower family usurped the throne to prop up the former king's eldest son, Aegon II (Tom Glynn-Carney).

In season two, the Hightowers in King's Landing, and Rhaenyra and her allies in Dragonstone, gather resources and support to prepare for civil war as neither party is willing to give up their claim to the throne.

Rhaenyra seems to be the more emotionally mature and competent leader of the two possible rulers and is the better candidate for the throne.

But "Game of Thrones" fans are likely well aware of Rhaenyra's cruel fate already.

In season three, episode four, Joffrey Lannister gives his bride-to-be Margaery Tyrell a tour of King's Landing's Red Keep when he mentions Rhaenyra's death.

"Rhaenyra Targaryen was murdered by her brother, or rather, his dragon," Joffrey recalls. "It ate her while her son watched. What's left of her is buried in the crypts right down there."

"House of the Dragon" is the second time HBO has turned one of George R. R. Martin's fantasy novels into a TV show juggernaut. The prequel series is based on Martin's "Fire and Blood" novel, a history book for the original "A Song of Ice and Fire" series that "Game of Thrones" is based on.

Here's how Rhaenyra Targaryen dies in "Fire and Blood."

In the book, Rhaenyra takes over King's Landing, but both the throne and the people reject her

At one point during the civil war recounted in "Fire and Blood," Rhaenyra and her army take over the capital, King's Landing, and Aegon II and his allies flee.

Rhaenyra finally gets to sit on the Iron Throne and rules for six months, but things quickly take a turn for the worse.

Firstly, Rhaenyra gets wounded by the throne on multiple occasions, which is an omen that means that the throne has rejected her. Rhaenyra then angers the people by raising taxes and executing people she thought helped Aegon II escape the capital.

After Helaena Targaryen, Aegon II's sister-wife and the people's favorite, dies by suicide, the people riot, ousting Rhaenyra and killing one of her sons, Joffrey Valeryon.

Rhaenyra uses the last of her resources to escape with her family and head to Dragonstone, her former base.

When Rhaenyra reaches Dragonstone, Aegon II is already there and has slain all her followers.

Sealing his victory, Aegon II feeds Rhaenyra to his dragon Sunfyre in front of her last remaining child, Aegon III.

Since "House of the Dragon" is a prequel to "Game of Thrones," it is likely that Rhaenyra will face the same ultimate fate as she does in the book. But the path to this death may be changed.

"House of the Dragon" season two airs Sundays at 9 p.m. ET on HBO and is streaming on Max.

• Starbucks' biggest store is its 35,000-square-foot Reserve Roastery on Chicago's Magnificent Mile.
• There are four floors, each with a coffee bar with slightly different offerings, as well as a roof terrace.
• You can get exclusive drinks and merchandise only available at its Reserve Roasteries.

The world's biggest Starbucks store is spread over four floors, has a roof terrace, roasts its own coffee, serves luxury coffees and cocktails, and sells a range of exclusive merchandise that you can't find elsewhere.

Starbucks' biggest store isn't in Seattle, where the coffee giant is based. Nor is it in New York City, where bleary-eyed office workers and enthusiastic tourists alike sip on its cold brews.

Instead, it's in Chicago, nestled partway down the Windy City's Magnificent Mile, a busy hub of shops, bars, and restaurants.

Source: Starbucks

It's not just a massive regular Starbucks store, though. The Chicago location is actually a Starbucks Reserve Roastery, one of just six in the world. They sell upscale coffees and cocktails as well as an extensive selection of Starbucks merchandise.

The store is spread over four main floors, each with a café or coffee bar, plus a roof terrace. It totals 35,000 square feet.

Source: Starbucks

The ground floor is stocked with merchandise specific to the store, including mugs, water bottles, and candles. You could also get a Chicago crewneck sweater for $80. Many of the items are exclusive to the Chicago Reserve Roastery and can't be bought online.

Some of the items were beautifully decorated, like these $35 bottles and packs of coffee beans.

There was even a Starbucks Reserve Roastery jigsaw puzzle and coloring book.

Of course, there's also a coffee bar on the ground floor, where you can get a range of coffees, teas, pastries, and desserts. Like the other coffee bars in the building, you can choose the type of coffee beans in your drink and also get exclusive Starbucks Reserve beverages not available elsewhere.

Starbucks uses the same color scheme — copper with teal ceilings — throughout the store. The result was a very sleek and upscale appearance.

Heading to the second floor, you'll find the Princi café and bakery. This is the main place to get food in the Reserve Roastery.

There's a selection of pizza flavors, including some seasonal ones, like zucchini and burrata and sausage and grilled pepper. They cost $9.50 per slice.

You can also get focaccia sandwiches, avocado on toast with a range of toppings, and croissants with prosciutto and fontina cheese.

They're all priced at around $9, but for $2 extra, you can drizzle hot honey on top.

Hot honey is EVERYWHERE right now.

There's a huge selection of desserts, too, with most selling for around $10.

The desserts vary seasonally, too. A member of staff told me that the most popular dessert is the tiramisu, followed by the cheesecake.

When I visited, there was a small menu by the counter listing the seasonal food and beverages, but other than that there was no full menu available without scanning the QR code.

On the third floor is the "Experiential Coffee Bar" where Starbucks says you can "immerse yourself in the art, science and theater of coffee." Options include a malted milkshake made with cold brew aged in a whiskey barrel and a range of coffee flights.

There are some hot honey cocktails on the menu, too. The affogato costs $10.50 and the espresso martini costs $18.

And on the fourth floor, Starbucks has its Arriviamo Bar. As well as wine, beer, and traditional cocktails, you can also choose from an extensive range of coffee cocktails, plus some featuring green, rooibos, and matcha tea.

There's also more Reserve-branded merchandise on this floor, like these Chemex coffeemakers.

The building is dominated by a 56-foot steel cask — the building's tallest — that spans all four floors. It's where coffee beans rest and de-gas after being roasted.

Source: Starbucks

Throughout the building you can spot artwork inspired by coffee or by the brand …

… as well as informational displays, like this sign explaining how coffee cards are designed.

As well as large windows looking down onto Michigan Avenue, the building has skylights which make the spirit bottles at the top-floor bar twinkle.

Finally, on the top floor of the building is the pièce de résistance — the rooftop terrace with views of part of the Magnificent Mile. You have to buy your food and drinks on another floor and take them up via the stairs or elevator.

This was the view when I visited on a sunny day with a clear sky. The black building in the background is the Hancock Tower, one of the city's tallest buildings.

If you want to learn more about coffee making and tasting, or you'd like to recreate the Reserve Roastery's coffees and cocktails at home, you can sign up for one of its four sessions, which range from $45 to $95 per person.

Chicago has some fantastic restaurants, and I wouldn't advise anyone to miss out on sampling some of its iconic dishes like deep-dish pizza, Polish hot dogs, and jibaritos just to try Starbucks pizza. There are lots of great bars and coffee shops throughout the city, too.

But with its menu of coffee, cocktails, and pastries exclusive to Starbucks Reserve locations, as well as its extensive array of merchandise, I can see why true aficionados of the Siren would have the world's biggest Starbucks on their bucket lists.

• BI spoke to three late starters in the financial independence movement.
• They started to save and invest in their 40s and 50s and set themselves up for early retirement.
• Their strategies range from safe investments to living minimally to tight budgeting.

Gina Murillo was about to turn 50 and had almost $40,000 in consumer debt, with only $69,000 in her retirement savings. Now almost 57, Murillo, who lives in the Chicago area, has a net worth of over $1.1 million and is on pace to reach financial independence within three years.

Murillo had her kids in her early 20s, working various jobs to support her family. For much of her adult life, she was a single parent receiving no child support. She graduated from law school in her early 40s after working as a paralegal, but she didn't love being an attorney for a large firm. At 49, she got a job that nearly doubled her income.

She got interested in the financial independence movement after reading blogs like Mr. Money Mustache. She took a $35,000 pay cut to join a boutique law firm, but it ignited her journey toward financial stability.

"I realized that if these people could achieve FI in less than 10 years during their 20s and 30s, there was no reason I couldn't do the same in my 50s," Murillo said. "What I lost in pay, I gained in work-life balance."

She developed a plan to pay off her debt, saving roughly 40-50% of her net income of between $120,000 and $140,000. She tracked every dollar she spent, cut unnecessary spending, and put a portion of her earnings into investments. She paid off her debt within 18 months, then improved her investment strategies to get higher returns. After a few years, she loosened restrictions on her spending habits to include things she valued, though she kept spending low.

"When I started this journey, I thought I'd never be able to retire," Murillo said. "Now, I'm just a few years away from that."

Murillo is one of many Americans who started their financial independence journeys later in life but are on pace to meet their early retirement goals. While much attention in the community is devoted to those retiring well before 65 or starting their journeys young, Gen Xers told Business Insider they're working to draw attention to "late bloomers" who dug themselves out of years of debt or only started budgeting midcareer.

Late starters told BI they could still achieve many of their financial goals despite years of financial instability. All said it took years of hard work to get back on track, though they agreed their strategies aren't out of reach for many Americans.

Embarking on financial independence

Bill Yount, 57, grew up middle class and enrolled in a state medical school, becoming an emergency physician by his early 30s. When he came out of his residency, he was $30,000 in credit card debt with "a smattering" of student loans.

Because of his employment success, he said he experienced lifestyle creep. He got married, bought a big house in a nice neighborhood, had two kids, and purchased a new car — which sent him into debt.

"We got caught up in what I call the 20-year funnel of life: raising kids, dual income family, relatively higher income because of being physicians, but living a paycheck-to-paycheck lifestyle, inflating our lifestyle as our pay went up," Yount said.

During the Great Recession, he and his wife sold much of their equities fearing an even greater downturn, which cost them long-term. All this time, they hadn't prioritized retirement savings.

By the time he turned 50, he and his wife had a net worth of almost a million. Still, he realized he needed to change things up, aiming to have a couple million saved up by retirement.

Yount read dozens of books and listened to hundreds of podcasts relating to personal finance. He began tracking his expenses, especially after his wife went back to work full-time. He adopted a more simplistic investment approach, such as Vanguard total market funds and intermediate and short-term treasuries. He also got into real estate investing, though it wasn't as fruitful as he anticipated.

His savings increased to about 40% of gross income, and he lowered his cost of living by moving to Tennessee and downsizing his home by half. He exercised what he called "backwards budgeting," or saving a high percentage of income and then basing spending around what's left.

In under a decade, he and his wife grew their net worth to over $5 million. He's used his success to help other late-starts on his podcast and website Catching up to FI.

"As a late starter, you feel isolated, you feel ashamed, you don't want to tell anybody you're not good at talking about money," Yount said, adding: "Late Starters don't feel spoken to in the financial independence movement, and that's when they discover us. They all universally say, I found my tribe."

Strategies for late starters

Jackie Cummings Koski, 54, grew up "very poor" in South Carolina, raised as one of six kids by a single dad. To fund her college education, she worked 50 hours a week to cover her expenses while attending classes.

Her first job was at Walmart in corporate communications before becoming a store manager in Ohio. She got married a year after college, had a kid shortly after, and put a downpayment on a new home after selling Walmart stock.

She faced a divorce in the mid-2000s, and she realized her ex-husband saved much more than her. She had just $20,000 in her 401(k), while her ex-husband had $120,000 and more successful investments.

As a single mother, she took time to regroup in her late 30s and started learning more about finances while an account manager at data analytics company LexisNexis. Through the organization Better Investing, she took part in a model investment club, learning the ins and outs of investment strategies. She began maxing out her 401(k) and health savings account, then made it her goal to achieve FIRE.

She started investing in 2008, which meant high returns on many of her investments as she was able to buy at relatively low prices in the wake of the financial crisis. She invested in growth index funds through Vanguard, which was less risky than individual stocks.

She said much of her financial growth in her 40s stemmed from people explaining financial topics simply. She previously feared never having enough for retirement, but she mapped out what it would take to get to savings 25 times her expenses after listening to advice from podcasts. She didn't want to lock up her money until she turned 65, so she learned ways to get money out of her retirement accounts earlier.

She acknowledged her journey wasn't perfect — she said she could've put more in a brokerage account, sold her backup vehicle, or cut back on certain things. But she said she got to a point where she didn't need to budget every penny and could still spend on vacations.

By 47, she reached a million in net worth, which was about 25 times her expenses. She was still not mentally ready to retire, as she never made six figures in any role, so she worked for two more years and retired at $1.3 million.

From there, she got a master's degree in financial therapy and personal finance planning, then got her Certified Financial Planner and Accredited Financial Counselor certifications. Over the last few years, she became an advisor board member for various financial institutions, provided consulting services to organizations, became a financial educator for startups, and is a co-host on Catching up to FI. She also wrote the book "F.I.R.E. For Dummies."

"Anybody could google something, anybody could read a book, but you don't know what you don't know," she said. "I'm a firm believer that the messenger matters."

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

• Hailey Myers is a 40-year-old mum to four who lives in Tulsa, Oklahoma.
• For her 40th birthday, she asked her sisters and mom to dress up in wedding dresses for dinner.
• They all enjoyed doing it, and are planning to repeat it sometime soon. 

When it's your 40th birthday, people can't say no to what you want to do. They just have to go along with whatever you want to do to celebrate. At least, that's what I think.

For my 40th, I wanted my sisters and mom — who only live a short distance from me — to dress up as the same thing and go out to dinner. I'd seen people go out as a group of grandmas, for instance, but I wanted something unique and different.

Leading up to my birthday, I asked my mom if she still had all our wedding dresses in the house.

"Yep, you want to take yours?" she asked. "They're all still hanging up there."

I told her no, but I would like us all to wear them to celebrate my birthday.

There was no shame about not fitting in them

Most of my sisters were excited about the idea. A couple of us knew we wouldn't fit into our dresses, but we planned to use safety pins on either side of the zip, with ribbon crisscrossing, as a makeshift corset — there was no shame about the fact we couldn't fit into our dresses. I told my mom she could just wear her favorite mother-of-the-bride dress.

On the night we had scheduled, all but one of my sisters and mom drove their minivans to my house with their wedding dresses stuffed into the driver's seat.

One of my sisters had stopped off at Trader Joe's to grab a ton of flowers to make bouquets, and we sat at the dining room table, assembling them before dinner. We had love songs blaring on Alexa while laughing about our impending stunt.

Before it got dark, we started the 10-minute walk from my house in Midtown Tulsa, a historic neighborhood, into the bustling center of town. The thought of walking alongside the road was mortifying, but it was really fun.

People stopped to take our photos

Every car that drove past us slowed down to honk or wave. Several people offered to take pictures of us. I had expected at least some negative responses from people thinking we looked stupid, but there was nothing like that. It made everyone smile.

While we walked, our trains dropped and zips loosened, so it took a bit longer than usual to get into town. We loved looking at how unintentionally similar our dresses were.

Stepping into the newly opened, full-to-the-brim restaurant, everyone dining stopped and turned to watch as we paraded in. The place went silent.

Once we arrived at the dinner table, we talked about all our wedding memories. It was such a reminiscent time — recalling what we remembered from each wedding. We laughed and cried, thinking back to how precious each one was.

Although our weddings and this "wedding dress dinner" were particularly memorable days together, my mom, sisters, and I make memories every week.

I'm close to my family

Every Tuesday, we have a weekly hangout. It's a non-negotiable for all of us. We might float in a pool together or just sit around a table, talking about how we're all doing. We talk about all the hard things we're going through. Sometimes, we don't agree with each other, but because we value each other, we listen to and respect one another. We don't leave things under the rug because those things will fester and turn into more if not talked about.

We work on our relationships with each other, and it has paid off repeatedly over the years.

This tight-knit bond started when we were kids. My mom always told us that friends would come and go, but sisters last forever. She instilled a commitment to family in her girls, and it has lasted into adulthood.

Dressing up in our wedding dresses, remembering the best days of our lives, was especially sweet for my mom. She had paid for the most expensive pieces of clothing we'd ever wear, and now she could see them again while reflecting with us about the days we'd worn them.

The whole evening was one we'd love to do again.

• Business Insider spoke to Gen Z workers and millennial managers about how they approach work.
• The Gen Z workers challenged the 9-to-5 work hours, hustle culture, and strict dress codes.
• Two millennial managers are learning from Gen Z's focus on work-life balance and self-expression.

Gen Z, a generation born between 1997 and 2012, continues to challenge the workplace status quo and rewrite the narrative of professionalism.

"Hustle culture" is being replaced with work-life balance, emotions are edging their way into corporate conversations, and business casual is a distant memory. But sometimes, the transition is not without strife from older generations who intend to reinforce the standard.

For example, some millennials who manage Gen Zers face the unique challenge of weighing their corporate conditioning against more progressive ideals. As a result, they're modifying their leadership strategies and their relationship to work.

Business Insider spoke with three disruptive Gen Zers in the workforce and two millennial managers who are navigating how to lead them.

The Gen Zers shared that they prioritize rest, mental health, and self-expression. The millennial managers shared that they struggle to manage their Gen Z employees' emotions and sensitivity, but they've learned from the younger generation's work-life balance.

Piper Hansen said her 9-5 job was depressing

A few months into her first full-time job, at 23, Piper Hansen was shocked at the all-consuming nature of her 9-5 schedule. She told BI that her job working at a YMCA office was personally fulfilling but left her with only enough time and energy to prepare for the next day of work. The lack of flexibility left her with questions.

"How can I make sure I'm eating well and seeing my friends and taking time for my hobbies? How am I supposed to fit my whole life into a 9-to-5 work schedule?" Hansen said.

Other Gen Zers who've shared similar complaints online have received a largely unsympathetic response from older folks who view Gen Z's sensitivity as a symptom of laziness.

But, Hansen told BI that she believes a rich life outside work is possible. Although she doesn't know what her career trajectory looks like, Hansen said she's proud to be a part of a generation that believes in the possibility of something greater.

Kim Schewitz said Gen Z just wants rest and relaxation

After the pandemic forced people to stay indoors, Gen Zer, Kim Schewitz expressed, in an article for BI, that she was delighted to see her Gen Z peers adopt her affinity for "wholesome" activities like knitting, naps, and nights in.

Her generation's emphasis on self-care and rest outlived the pandemic and transferred into the workplace. Schewitz wrote that she was relieved to see Gen Z replacing hustle culture and 'toxic' productivity with 'quiet quitting' and work-life balance — especially considering Gen Z is one of the first generations projected to make less money than their parents.

"What's the point of 'living to work' if you'll never get to reap the rewards?" Schewitz said. "Gen Z appears to be less focused on the future and more on living enjoyable lives now."

Prioritizing a slower, cozier life may pose benefits for anyone, but Schewitz said it's especially important for a generation that's struggling with mental health more than ever.

Maya Penn says her bold outfits and natural Afro are professional

Some people say that Gen Z's eclectic style is unprofessional, but 24-year-old Maya Penn said Gen Z is simply embracing authenticity.

"It's always been important for me to stand out, and I've always had my own style," Penn told BI. "I've never felt the need to adhere to specific trends."

As an environmental activist, entrepreneur, and CEO of a fashion company, Penn said her goal is to promote inclusivity, sustainability, and self-expression. She's part of a generation that's swapping fast fashion and size-exclusive brands for thrift clothes, hand-me-downs, and upholstery.

Penn uses her eclectic finds to rebel from the corporate standard and embody her personal style — namely through bold colors and jewelry from the African and Indigenous diaspora. She even wears her natural Afro, a choice that she said has garnered negative comments since childhood.

"When asked about it, I respond that 'yes,' it's my natural hair, and I wear it this way because it's beautiful, elegant, and professional."

Penn uses her position as CEO to show her employees that professionalism is proven through action, not through adherence to aged ideals.

This millennial manager says Gen Z's emotions are inappropriate for the workplace

Many Gen Zers started their careers in a remote environment during the pandemic and missed the opportunity to observe the unwritten rules of workplace etiquette. A millennial manager, who chose to be anonymous to protect her career, told BI she noticed her Gen Z employees crossing professional boundaries — like dumping all of their feelings about work onto her.

"They're unsure of how to cope with everyday challenges — competing deadlines, interpersonal issues, and receiving feedback — and they want to express that," the millennial manager said.

She also mentioned that she's learned some valuable tools to help deal with Gen Z workers, such as discerning when to provide solutions and when to just listen. One anxious employee spun with indecision until the millennial manager provided a solution, while another just needed a space to vent.

Another tool she's implemented is adopting a softer approach to giving feedback after she noticed her Gen Z employees were interpreting her initial approach as criticism.

Despite the challenges of leading Gen Z, this manager said the younger generation has taught her to prioritize her personal life.

Hannah Tooker says her Gen Z employees helped her grow

Hannah Tooker started managing Gen Z employees three years ago and said that although they have a different approach to work than millennials, they're fearless and creative.

As the senior vice president at a marketing agency, Tooker told BI she enjoys teaching her Gen Z employees just as much as learning from them.

They've taught her to prioritize the emotional needs of her team, communicate with more clarity, and use social media as a tool. She said they even helped her confront her "hustle-culture" mentality and reevaluate her work-life balance.

"Burnout was a badge of honor for the first half of my career," Tooker said. "Since entering the workforce, Gen Z has said, 'That's not for me.'"

However, not everyone is as receptive to Gen Z's approach to work.

"Some people complain that they're hard to work with, but having high expectations and wanting work-life balance and an employer who cares isn't a bad thing," Tooker told BI.

Are you a Gen Zer or millennial with a unique story about your experience in the workforce? Email Tess Martinelli at tmartinelli@businessinsider.com