• AI startup Windsurf has had a whirlwind few weeks.
• Its founders, Varun Mohan and Douglas Chen, left for Google just after a deal with OpenAI fell apart.
• Venture capitalist Vinod Khosla said the founders left the Windsurf team "behind."

The founders of Windsurf, the now much talked about AI startup, are having a roller coaster couple of weeks.

Varun Mohan and Douglas Chen nearly struck a deal to sell the company to OpenAI for $3 billion before it suddenly fell through.

Then, the two decamped to Google DeepMind, leaving the rest of the company scrambling. Windsurf's remaining executives struck a deal with another AI startup, Cognition, the following weekend, which its new CEO, Jeff Wang, described as "crazy."

Now, legendary venture capitalist Vinod Khosla has weighed in on the drama, criticizing the founders' decision to leave. Khosla Ventures is an investor in Cognition.

"Windsurf and others are really bad examples of founders leaving their teams behind and not even sharing the proceeds with their team," Khosla said in an X post. "I definitely would not work with their founders next time."

Khosla's remarks were in response to a clip from "The Twenty Minute VC" podcast featuring Cognition founder Scott Wu, who said, "There's an unspoken covenant that as a founder, you go down with the ship."

"And I think that, for better or worse, it's changed a bit over the last year, and I think it's a bit disappointing to be honest," Wu said.

One X user suggested Khosla's response was hypocritical, prompting him to expand further on Sunday.

"Absolutely not hypocritical about it. I would not work with the WeWork founder either! Working without trust is a sure way to be unhappy," Khosla said on X.

"I honestly asked myself if I made $1b on this 'deal', would I accept it and be quiet or fight for the rest of the team? Or give part of my money to the rest of the team? Hard to say without being in the situation but I feel I'd definitely fight for those left behind," he added.

Khosla, Mohan, and Chen did not respond to a request for comment from Business Insider.

Wang, who previously served as head of business at Windsurf, recounted on X on Saturday his experience informing the Windsurf staff that not only had the OpenAI deal fallen through, but its two cofounders had left.

"The mood was very bleak," Wang wrote. "Some people were upset about financial outcomes or colleagues leaving, while others were worried about the future. A few were in tears."

Still, Wang praised Mohan and Chen. He said they were "great founders and this company meant a lot to them, and it should be acknowledged that this whole situation must have been difficult for them as well."

• Eric Lee Sandrin grew up in Seattle with a Korean mom and an Italian-American dad.
• As an adult, he changed his name to Lee Seung-jun and gave up his US citizenship to play on South Korea's national team.
• These days, Lee is married, retired from basketball, and running a youth sports company in Seoul.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Lee Seung-jun, a 47-year-old retired professional basketball player who represented South Korea internationally. His words have been edited for length and clarity.

A mix of my American dad's height and my Korean mom's identity took me places — literally.

I was born in the US and grew up as Eric Lee Sandrin, but after moving to Korea and giving up my US passport, I became Lee Seung-jun.

I went on to play professional basketball and on the Korean national team. Both sides of my family shaped me in different ways.

Settling down in Seattle

My dad is 6-foot-7 and played basketball through college, then later for the Army team. He met my mom while stationed in Korea. After completing his service, they moved to Washington state to settle down. My dad loved the mountains, and my mom liked being closer to Korea.

My younger brother and I were raised in the suburbs of Seattle, although we often spent summers in Korea.

Over the years, we started bringing other members of the family to the US, my grandmother, uncles, and aunts. Little by little, almost all of them ended up moving to the Seattle area, opening up small businesses like grocery stores and karaoke bars, similar to other Korean immigrants in the area.

In between cultures

At school, we were usually the only Asian kids in class. At home, everyone looked like us. It created a constant push-pull: Korean at home, American outside.

At school, kids would say, "Are you guys Chinese?" And we'd say, "No, it's a different country." And they would say, "Oh, Japanese?"

When we visited my dad's family in Michigan, our cousins didn't know what we were; they hadn't seen people like us in the Midwest.

My mom worried about prejudice, so we didn't grow up speaking Korean. She wanted us to be American first, even as she struggled to learn English herself.

Court vs. classroom

I started shooting hoops when I was around six. In our early teens, we'd just head to the park and play. It wasn't until high school, when coaches started sending letters and offering scholarships, that I thought, "Wow, I might actually get to play basketball in school."

I ended up enrolling at the University of Portland, and later, after a knee injury, transferring to Seattle Pacific University — I played for both of the schools' teams.

After graduating, I got a teaching certificate and lined up a job teaching at a high school.

Change of plans

Then I chose basketball instead.

My mom thought I was throwing it all away. My brother was planning to be a lawyer, and she had dreams of bragging about us to her coffee group.

But by then, basketball had become my life, my brother's too.

When I didn't make it to the NBA, I started building an international career, including a brief stint with the Harlem Globetrotters. I was still chasing the NBA dream when a Korean agent suggested I try out for teams in Korea.

I suggested that my brother go first. He loved it and told me, "You have to come." So I did.

To play for the South Korean team, I had to give up my US citizenship. My dad, a military vet, wasn't happy. He reminded me that family members had died fighting for the US. He thought it was rash.

But after we talked it through, he understood. For me, it was about finding a better opportunity, just like his grandparents had done when they came from Italy.

Restarting in Korea

When I arrived in Seoul, I had just turned 30. At first, Korea felt familiar. The faces and food reminded me of my mom. But once I got deeper into the culture, I realized how different I was. I didn't speak the language and hadn't done military service.

Basketball practice in Korea felt like military training. We practiced four times a day: 6 a.m., 10 a.m., 4 p.m., and 8 p.m.

That's also when I started realizing just how many unspoken rules there are in the Korean language and culture.

I remember one of my first practices, I walked in, sat down, and started lacing up my shoes. I was sitting in the head coach's chair, but I had no idea that was a big faux pas.

So I was sitting there when the coach walked in. I went, "Oh, what's up?" I didn't even greet him properly. I didn't know any of this stuff. The whole team was like: "How can he be so rude? How does he not know this?"

That moment really pushed me to start learning the unspoken rules and study the language.

I eventually changed my name to Seung-jun, a name crafted with my mom's help. It means "beautiful victory," and links to my brother's name Dong‑jun — he grew up as Daniel.

When I was growing up in the States, my grandma used to talk to us for hours, but we could hardly understand her.

After learning to speak Korean, it was like meeting my grandma for the first time. I could actually talk to her and understand what she was saying.

Off the court, still in the game

In 2017, I retired, although I knew I wanted to stay in Korea. It felt like home.

The healthcare system is amazing. My wife, who's half-Korean, half-Romanian, is also a basketball player and is still playing.

A year after retiring from basketball, before my brother eventually got a green card and moved back to the States, we started Prism Hoops Academy. The youth sports company is focused on making sports fun for kids. In Korea, education is intense and regimented. Our goal was to create a space where kids could just play.

I'm now running the school with Im Won‑jun, another Korean American who, funnily enough, also grew up in Seattle.

We offer basketball, soccer, and chess. It's not about drills or perfection; our goal is just helping kids build positive memories.

Coaching young kids has become a real passion of mine, and my plan is to go back to school for a higher degree in education or administration.

So it looks like my mom will get her teacher after all.

Got a personal essay about moving abroad that you want to share? Get in touch with the reporter: [email protected].

• Writing good prompts is one of the most important skills of the AI era.
• Anthropic just released a guide on how best to do it.
• One tip is to think of its chatbot, Claude, as "a brilliant but very new employee (with amnesia)."

One of the most lucrative corporate skills these days is effective prompting — making requests of chatbots to get what you want — but it's not as easy as it sounds.

Chatbots are like children. They will do only what you ask, if even that, and nothing more. To get what you want, you have to be explicit and specific.

AI startup Anthropic is offering some help on this front. The company recently published a "Prompt Engineering Overview" to help users get started.

While its guide applies to pretty much any chatbot, it's tailored to its own, Claude.

The first order of business, Anthropic says, is to understand exactly what Claude is. "When interacting with Claude, think of it as a brilliant but very new employee (with amnesia) who needs explicit instructions," the company says in its guide.

The second is to have a rough idea or draft of your question and a sense of what a successful outcome might look like. Anthropic also offers a "prompt generator" for the first draft.

Then it becomes all about refining that initial prompt. Here are Anthropic's top tips.

Be specific with your prompts

"Claude does not have context on your norms, styles, guidelines, or preferred ways of working. The more precisely you explain what you want, the better Claude's response will be," Anthropic says.

The company suggests telling the chatbot what the results will be used for and what audience it is meant for. You should also tell Claude, or whatever chatbot you are using, what the end goal of the task is.

The more you can organize the directions, the better. Anthropic even recommends laying out the requests as bullet points or a numbered list.

Be generous with examples

"Examples are your secret weapon shortcut for getting Claude to generate exactly what you need," Anthropic says. "By providing a few well-crafted examples in your prompt, you can dramatically improve the accuracy, consistency, and quality of Claude's outputs."

This strategy is sometimes called multi-shot prompting. Anthropic says that giving examples reduces misinterpretation and enforces uniform structure and style.

Give the chatbot space to think

"Giving Claude space to think can dramatically improve its performance," Anthropic says. "This technique, known as chain of thought (CoT) prompting, encourages Claude to break down problems step-by-step, leading to more accurate and nuanced outputs."

This means a user will get the most out of a chatbot if they lay out the chain of steps so it can think through each one before answering. "This thorough reasoning leads to a more confident and justifiable recommendation," Anthropic says.

Roleplay

Anthropic says one of the most effective strategies is to assign the chatbot a specific role, like "news editor" or "financial planner."

"This technique, known as role prompting, is the most powerful way to use system prompts with Claude," the company says.

"In complex scenarios like legal analysis or financial modeling, role prompting can significantly boost Claude's performance."

Assigning roles can ensure you get exactly what you want. Maybe you want the brevity of a news writer, or maybe you want the tone of an academic.

Reduce hallucinations

Chatbots make things up, which is why you have to check everything they say. But there are some simple ways to reduce those hallucinations.

Anthtropic says the best thing you can do is give the chatbot permission to say, "I don't know."

"Explicitly give Claude permission to admit uncertainty. This simple technique can drastically reduce false information," Anthropic says.

You can also ask Claude and other chatbots to cite their claims with sources. "You can also have Claude verify each claim by finding a supporting quote after it generates a response. If it can't find a quote, it must retract the claim," Anthropic says.

• It's been almost impossible to escape the Coldplay "kiss cam" incident this week.
• The viral moment has made global headlines, and social media has been flooded with memes.
• The sports world has also joined in, with parodies from MLB mascots and SportsCenter hosts.

If ever there is evidence a moment is iconic, it's when goofy sports mascots recreate it.

The Raptor, the Toronto Raptors mascot, famously recreated Beyoncé's now legendary Coachella opening in 2018. Mascots for the Denver Nuggets recreated the wedding of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle.

And now they are recreating a new iconic event: The moment a "kiss cam" at a Coldplay concert captured now-former Astronomer CEO Andy Byron embracing the company's chief people officer, Kristin Cabot.

At Citizens Bank Park in Philadelphia on Friday night, for instance, the mascot for the Philadelphia Phillies baseball team was shown on the jumbotron mimicking the viral incident.

The Arizona Diamondbacks also had a field day with the meme.

The stadium's "kiss cam" caught team mascot D. Baxter the Bobcat locked in an embrace with a St. Louis Cardinals fan, before the pair also took evasive action.

Posting a clip of the spoof on X, the Diamondbacks wrote: "Ok now listen, are you two a couple? Are you two a legitimate couple?"

It's not just mascots — fans across the country have also seized on the moment. Footage posted to social media shows couples at America First Field in Utah and Truist Park in Atlanta showing off their own versions of the moment.

SportsCenter commentators Gary Striewski and Randy Scott also recreated the viral clip.

During their show's cold open on Friday, cameras panned to Scott holding Striewski by the waist. Scott drops to the floor, and Striewski covers his face as the camera pans to them.

"It's time to 'Kiss It Goodbye,'" Scott says as they move to the next segment of the show. "Baseball's probably not the only thing you can say that about."

The jokes were also flying at Busch Stadium in Missouri, where two popular exhibition baseball teams — The Savannah Bananas and The Party Animals — competed this week.

A video shared by the Savannah Bananas on Saturday showed people reenacting the Coldplay "kiss cam" moment on the stadium's jumbotron.

At one point, the camera panned to The Party Animals mascot, Pharty, warmly embracing Princess Potassia, the mascot for the Savannah Bananas. The two costumed characters quickly ducked out of the way, eliciting cheers and laughter from the crowd.

Astronomer, the New York-based tech company where Byron worked, announced on Friday that the CEO had been placed on leave and that it had started a formal investigation into the incident. In an update Saturday, the firm said Byron had resigned from his position as CEO.

In a statement shared on X, the tech company said its leaders were "expected to set the standard in both conduct and accountability."

"And recently, that standard was not met," it added.

• I took a cruise with my then-boyfriend, despite being unsure if he was the one.
• At the cruise, we met an older couple, and they shared their family stories.
• The older lady told me my boyfriend was "the one" for me, and I told him that when we married.

I had been dating my boyfriend Tim for about eight months when we decided to go on vacation together. We chose a cruise to the Bahamas, a place that neither of us had ever been.

I liked Tim a lot — he was sweet, funny, and reliable — but I was starting to feel unsure about the future of our relationship. I just wasn't sure if he was "the one." An international cruise felt like the perfect test for whether we could go the distance, geographically and romantically, too.

The cruise was not all it was cracked up to be

As soon as we boarded the cruise ship, we began noticing strange details. Chipping paint, broken deck chairs, torn sun umbrellas. Above deck, the ride was choppy at best, and people all around us were getting seasick. Below-deck was even worse.

It didn't take long to realize that our cruise ship wasn't the luxury liner it had been billed as. I couldn't help wondering if these bad vibes were a sign. I had been searching for answers, after all. Maybe the universe was trying to tell me something.

We began to enjoy our vacation

On our second night aboard, we were seated with another couple at dinner. Ruth and Paul were originally from the East Coast, but had retired in Florida and were regular cruise-goers. Although Ruth and Paul were well into their eighties, and Tim and I only in our 20s, we became fast friends.

Ruth and Paul were easygoing and funny. We stayed up past midnight playing shuffleboard, drinking daiquiris, and talking about our lives back at home. They spoke fondly about their children and grandchildren, even showing us pictures and telling us silly anecdotes about each family member. Tim and I talked about our own respective families and shared our hopeful plans for the future.

Unfortunately, my seasickness was getting worse by the day. Having used up the small stash of Dramamine I brought, I was nauseous all the time and seemingly out of remedies. One night, while sitting in the audience of an on-board jazz performance, my luck ran out. I whispered to Tim that I was going to be sick, then stood up to make my way back to the room. Tim followed behind me, grabbing the large tip jar off the stage just in time. I threw up into it as the entire audience looked on in horror. Tim held my hair back until I was finished.

My new friend delivered a piece of advice that changed my life forever

I spent the next morning recovering in bed. Tim brought me pancakes and tea from the breakfast buffet. I took small bites and managed to keep them down. By lunchtime, I was finally feeling well enough to rejoin the crowd. Ruth and Paul were incredibly sympathetic. We decided to hit the deck chairs together and relax until dinner.

Ruth took the chair next to mine. We spent the next hour talking just the two of us. That's when I learned that Ruth had been married once before Paul. She explained that her first marriage was short-lived — that it hadn't been right from the start. When I asked her why, her answer surprised me.

"I didn't really know what love was," she confessed. I glanced over at Tim, who was deeply engrossed in conversation with Paul. Ruth caught me staring and nodded wisely.

"Love is a choice," she said. "It's caring for someone in good times and in bad times. It's putting someone else's happiness before your own, and trusting them to do the same for you."

I thought of Tim holding my hair back, bringing me breakfast, and the countless other times he had taken care of me in our relationship. It was as if Ruth could read my mind.

"He's the one for you," she whispered, winking in Tim's direction. "Don't let him get away."

I left the cruise with the relationship clarity I had been seeking

The cruise ended a few days later, and the four of us went our separate ways. During the flight home, I reflected on our trip and the advice Ruth had given me. I couldn't believe how simple her words were, and yet, they were so impactful.

Three months later, Tim proposed.

I said yes.

On the morning of our wedding, I wrote Tim a card. In it, I shared the story of Ruth's advice and how meaningful it had been. Later that day, after we had exchanged our vows, he confessed that Paul had given him the same advice about me.

Twelve years and six kids later, we are forever grateful for strangers who became friends, and for words of wisdom that changed our lives forever.

• I was accepted into a Ph.D. in economics program, which was a dream come true.
• But I was also offered a job at a startup that excited me, so I took the offer.
• The startup folded, and I'm unsure if I regretted the decision.

When I received an email saying I had been accepted into the university of my choice for a Ph.D. program, I cried.

Furthering my education had always been an important goal for me, but it was one I didn't achieve easily. I battled Graves' disease through my early college years, which meant I was in and out of the classroom. I constantly played catch-up, and never thought I'd graduate. Understandably, the thought of enrolling in a Ph.D. economics program was a dream come true.

I'm a forward thinker, so I started imagining my interactions with my professors and what kind of thesis I'd work on. Although the annual tuition fees would put a great dent in my pocket, I was determined to work for it. I would have to strike a balance between school, family, and side hustles.

But then I got an offer I couldn't refuse.

My friend was working on an intriguing startup idea

While I was still planning for my program that was meant to begin in early fall, I met a friend who talked to me about a startup company he started and was taking off faster than he could keep up. It was exhilarating, and he thought I'd benefit from the experience.

The company wanted to disrupt financial access in underserved economies, and it was doing everything from product development and data modeling to pitching investors.

This friend had always been a dreamer and succeeded in most things he put his mind to. As he assured me, the startup wouldn't be an exception, especially because he had channeled all his savings toward it.

However, he wanted to bring me on board because I had an analytical background in economics. To be honest, the pay he suggested wasn't great, but the opportunity was stellar with potential for growth in skills and finances. My role would involve leveraging my skills in data analysis and understanding market dynamics.

He suggested I take some time to think about it.

I decided to take the job offer

I went back home and spent the majority of my time online looking through the company pages and comparing them to others that were thriving in the same field. It looked promising, and I wanted to be part of something great.

However, the team required someone who would work in the office full time, and logically, I wouldn't be able to be present for classes and work at the same time.

After a lot of back and forth, I thought working for the company was a one-time opportunity, and I was leaning toward it.

I looked up deferral programs and decided to consult with my school to seek their opinion on deferring my course for a year or two and then rejoining. The department didn't have deferrals, and the dean advised against it.

But the faculty told me that I could reapply a year later. I thought, if I was accepted once, I could be accepted again, so I started working for the startup.

The job didn't pan out as I expected

Everything was great in the first half of my work year. We embraced a team spirit, brought a few clients on board, and were on a steady path to growth. However, somewhere in the middle, we lost the plot.

We struggled to fit some of the company's products into a market that wasn't ready, and, most importantly, we faced a severe lack of funding.

After a long time of trying everything we could, the startup folded.

Looking back on my decision

I had mixed feelings about turning down school. In some ways, I feel like a failure. I was depressed and sunk deep into hopelessness. I haven't reapplied to my Ph.D. program yet, and I'm not sure I will anytime soon.

In hindsight, walking away from an opportunity to further my studies so I could join a startup was a risk, but it was also a rewarding experience in itself. I gained immense experience and made connections I wouldn't have made in academia.

I learned what it means to build something from the ground up, even if it doesn't work out.

• My 2-year-old grandson, King, died in an accident as I was achieving major career milestones.
• The loss forced me to confront how I had been using external achievements.
• Through my grief, I learned what true success in life really means.

The call came while I was in the middle of producing a groundbreaking documentary sanctioned by the Napoleon Hill Foundation. I had also just been featured in Forbes. Everything in my career was accelerating exactly as I had planned.

Then came the news that shattered everything.

King, my 2-year-old grandson, had drowned in a tragic accident. The little boy who would stop whatever he was doing to run into my arms, whose face lit up every time he saw me, was gone.

I felt like an anvil had fallen on my chest. Every step I took felt heavy, and the more it sank in, the more I wanted to leap out of my body from the pain. My chest was heavy and I couldn't breathe. It was instant trauma and a shock to my nervous system that left me gasping for air.

But that grief taught me something valuable.

My grandson meant the world to me

My first thought was denial. He's so young. I was just with him. How could this have happened?

Just one month earlier, I had sent King and my daughter back to California. When their flight was delayed, King held onto my neck like he didn't want to let go before boarding. I never expected that would be the last time I would hold him.

King wasn't just any child to me. Our relationship was magical. When I would play meditation music by the group Beautiful Chorus, he would hear just the first tone and stop whatever he was doing to come sit on my lap and sing with me. He was even on key. When he stayed at my house, we would sing together, play the African drum, and he would dance while I cooked. We would laugh until our bellies hurt.

The irony wasn't lost on me. Here I was, producing a documentary about mothers who had overcome adversity to find success, and I was suddenly facing one of my greatest adversities.

I forced myself to sit with the pain of loss

I didn't use work as anesthesia. Instead, I allowed myself to feel everything without grabbing any vices as coping mechanisms. It was painful. My nervous system wouldn't allow me to rest, and when I did sleep, I woke up thinking about King.

The grief forced me to confront a fundamental truth: I had been building my identity on things completely outside my control. I realized that only the ego would allow me to believe that tomorrow is promised to me or anyone I love.

I couldn't run from the pain. I had to use the tools I had been building through plant medicine, meditation, breathwork, and stillness to sit with it and find peace with knowing there was nothing I could have done to prevent this.

My grief helped me better understand success

Before King's death, my definition of success was entirely external. Success looked like closing deals, taking meetings, and speaking at events. It was anything that fed my ego. I was chasing vanity metrics, using achievements to mask deeper insecurities I hadn't yet faced.

But when I lost King, none of that mattered — the Forbes feature, the Napoleon Hill Foundation project, and the speaking engagements. All of it felt meaningless in the face of this devastating loss.

I started understanding that true success wasn't about external validation. It was about healing trauma, facing my shadows, and addressing my addictions.

I know for a fact that if I hadn't been doing deep inner work before this happened, I would have been completely broken. The preventive inner work I had done gave me the tools I needed to process this unimaginable loss.

I now realize that inner work before something happens is the only way to have the tools needed to process the curveballs life throws at you with full impact.

King's death revealed the most resilient part of me. The part that won't quit, even in the face of unbearable loss. He taught me that true success isn't measured in Forbes features or foundation partnerships. It's measured in our capacity to love deeply, heal authentically, and find meaning even in our darkest moments.

Every time I hear that first tone from Beautiful Chorus, I remember my grandson's voice singing with mine, perfectly on key, and I'm reminded that the most important successes in life can't be quantified on any business metric.

• This post originally appeared in the BI Today newsletter.
• You can sign up for Business Insider's daily newsletter here.

Welcome back to our Sunday edition, where we round up some of our top stories and take you inside our newsroom. Dell employees are not OK. Every year, the company conducts an engagement survey for its workers, called "Tell Dell." One metric of employee satisfaction has dropped by 50% in two years amid layoffs and its push to get workers back in the office.

On the agenda today:

• Six former federal workers spoke to BI about what life is like after being laid off by DOGE.
• Why so many law-abiding Americans are fine with committing return fraud.
• These MBAs are ditching corporate America to run unsexy small businesses.
• The freakiest aspect of the Coldplay "kiss cam" fiasco isn't a potential office affair, writes BI's Katie Notopoulos.

But first: Unpacking the new generational debate.

If this was forwarded to you, sign up here. Download Business Insider's app here.

This week's dispatch

Your ultimate guide to the 'Gen Z stare'

Millennials gave us skinny jeans and avocado toast. Gen Z? They've mastered the stare.

Yes, that stare — the blank, expressionless look from the younger generation that's been lighting up the internet lately. Is it real? A post-pandemic side effect? A silent cry for help? Or is it just how Gen Z vibes?

At Business Insider, we dove headfirst into the phenomenon, decoding the psychology, exploring what it means for careers, and examining how it plays out in the workplace.

What is it? As more of Gen Z enters the workforce, some millennials say younger workers greet customers and colleagues with wide eyes, blank expressions, and pregnant pauses. Most of the debate hinges on Gen Zers working customer service roles, like hostessing at restaurants or taking orders at coffee shops. While this could be a sign of workplace awkwardness or underdeveloped soft skills, others are pushing back and saying the trend's blame is misplaced.

Is it real? Our resident Gen Zer Amanda Yen says, "It's ironic that millennials are diagnosing their Gen Z counterparts in much the same way boomers diagnosed and pathologized them. Millennials, are you sure you're not just becoming your parents?"

The value of silence. BI's Katie Notopoulos, an older millennial, said if you're on the receiving end of the "Gen-Z stare," maybe you're the problem. "One thing I learned is that sometimes silence is the best way to handle a situation. In other words, you might say: Give 'em the 'Gen Z stare.' If someone keeps pushing, eventually you have to leave some silence hanging in the air — no more room for them to negotiate." Just don't get Katie started on how Gen Zers answer the phone!

Is screen time to blame? Psychologists and generational experts are weighing in, saying the phenomenon could have more to do with natural growing pains on a first job. There are also factors unique to Gen Z's upbringing, including how the generation has grown up in front of screens. One professor told BI that it's naive to underestimate the impact that COVID-19 shutdowns and online learning could have had on young people's development.

What do Gen Zers think? We asked several young people between the ages of 17 and 27 what they thought about the debate. A 21-year-old from Boston thinks the whole thing is overblown. A 20-year-old from the Bay Area said she sees it all the time. A 17-year-old heard from her parents that she had been inadvertently doing it.

We asked our readers if they had experienced the "Gen Z stare." The results are in, and spoiler — a majority of you have!

Life after DOGE

It's been six months since Elon Musk and the Department of Government Efficiency slashed the federal workforce in an effort to "streamline the Federal Government, eliminate unnecessary programs, and reduce bureaucratic inefficiency."

After months of being in limbo, a recent Supreme Court ruling allowed the stalled firings to proceed. In a series of conversations with BI, six former government employees spoke about their career shifts, what life is like outside government work, and more.

"I'll always be known as that."

Also read:

• 'How much longer until I break?': The emotional toll of working in the federal government right now

One box of fibs at a time

The ability to return a purchased item has become a core part of the shopping experience. Retailers say consumers are taking advantage of returns — and a recent report from Appriss Retail and Deloitte found it's costing businesses $103 billion a year.

Some consumers are committing outright fraud by shipping back empty boxes or claiming a package never arrived. Others are sending back items after months of use. The culprits are often everyday consumers, and they don't feel bad.

A nation of retail fraudsters.

Also read:

• The rise of the anti-Amazon avengers

The hot new MBA hustle

Elite millennials like Dan Schweber are quitting corporate America in favor of search funds: the practice of buying and running small businesses, also known as "mini private equity."

Plenty of these unglamorous small businesses — like carwashes, plumbing, or snowplowing — are owned by boomers looking to retire. That makes them prime for millennial MBAs like Schweber, who can, in some cases, turn them into multimillion-dollar companies.

Here's how they do it.

Cut the (kiss) cameras

You've probably heard of the viral concert "kiss cam" video that appeared to show Astronomer CEO Andy Byron embracing the company's head of HR Kristin Cabot, then springing apart once they realize they're on camera. The reaction prompted Coldplay's Chris Martin to comment, "Either they're having an affair or they're just very shy."

A potential office affair is good gossip, but BI's Katie Notopoulos thinks there's something more troubling here: the knee-jerk reaction to identify the people in the video.

Why she regrets seeing that video.

This week's quote:

"It was like being the lead investigator on your own murder."

— A millennial who was paid to catch people secretly working multiple jobs but ended up joining them.

More of this week's top reads:

• New York's tech elite give Mamdani points for "charisma" — and engaging with them at closed-door meet.
• Meet the 23-year-old investigators tasked with finding Ukraine's missing soldiers.
• Elon Musk's North Star is becoming increasingly clear.
• Amazon's Ring goes full founder mode, taking the company back to its crime-fighting roots.
• The ex-Amazon employee who's helped nearly 4,000 laid-off workers score jobs.
• Rideshare drivers use apps to help them judge whether a ride is worth it. Uber and Lyft are trying to kill some of them.
• Why Sam Altman and OpenAI are making a web browser.
• Make sure you're doing this in your job search — especially if you're early-career.

• The Minecraft generation is cashing in.

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  The BI Today team: Steve Russolillo, chief news editor, in New York. Lisa Ryan, executive editor, in New York. Akin Oyedele, deputy editor, in New York. Grace Lett, editor, in Chicago. Amanda Yen, associate editor, in New York.

• Starbucks CEO Brian Niccol said Monday that the company is increasing its in-office work requirement.
• A spokesperson said the RTO order is about enhancing Starbucks' culture, not reducing head count.
• Employees told Business Insider they're worried the company's beloved people-first culture is eroding.

Employees at Starbucks' corporate headquarters who are unhappy about CEO Brian Niccol's strict return-to-office mandate are making their displeasure known.

On Friday, a flyer created by "Partners for the Preservation of Starbucks Culture, Mission, and Values" was taped inside an elevator at the corporate offices in Seattle. Featuring two photos of Niccol and a list of grievances, the flyer calls out Niccol's leadership, recent cost-cutting bonuses for executives, the RTO order, and broader changes in the work environment, a photo shows.

"Getting 'Back to Starbucks' isn't just about comfy chairs. It's about our Culture, Values, Mission, and how we treat people and the environment," it reads. "This is the wrong direction. Please stop."

It appeared several days after Niccol sent a firm message to the company's corporate workers on Monday: Come back to the office four days a week or leave.

Some "people leaders" who manage teams had their remote status eliminated, requiring them to relocate to Seattle or Toronto. According to internal communications viewed by Business Insider, Starbucks offered voluntary buyout packages of between $20,000 and $100,000, depending on title, for those who would rather leave the company.

Four Starbucks corporate employees told Business Insider they're worried the strict return-to-office mandate contributes to an erosion of the company's "partner first" culture. A Starbucks spokesperson told Business Insider that the return-to-office mandate is about enhancing the company's culture, not further reducing head count. Starbucks formally laid off 1,100 corporate workers in February.

"I think for those of us who have been around for a while, we see a culture shift happening in the organization where our public face doesn't necessarily match our private face anymore," one Starbucks veteran, who has worked for the company for nearly 20 years, told Business Insider.

The latest RTO notices surprised the corporate Starbucks workers who spoke to Business Insider, and prompted others to immediately begin looking for new roles and sharing their concerns on social media.

"As Starbucks chooses to require all people-leaders to relocate to Seattle, I am placed in a position where I must consider exploring other opportunities and would appreciate your support," Kristina Lawson, a Starbucks program manager who has been with the company for more than 18 years, wrote in a post on LinkedIn.

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

Corporate America is in the middle of a return-to-office showdown. Business Insider has reported that major companies, from Amazon to Zoom, have implemented various RTO mandates. Each company's approach has been different, with some incentivizing employees to work in-office with perks like raises, and others threatening to fire workers if they don't comply.

Business Insider's Aki Ito reported in May that some suspect that strict RTO mandates are actually a way to get employees to quit — and they may be right, because voluntary resignations remove the company's need to pay severance or health insurance, resulting in a less expensive reduction in force than traditional layoffs.

"We are reestablishing our in-office culture because we do our best work when we're together," Niccol said in a statement to BI. "We share ideas more effectively, creatively solve hard problems, and move much faster."

Niccol's statement continued: "We're driving significant change across the company while staying true to our core values. We know we're asking a lot of every partner as we work to turn the business around. And we understand that the updated in-office culture may not work for everyone."

Niccol, who joined the company from Chipotle last September, has been leading the coffee giant through a "Back to Starbucks" revitalization initiative. He is attempting to reverse slumping sales, improve the customer experience, and address problems with its mobile ordering system and long wait times.

A recent filing with the Securities and Exchange Commission shows Starbucks is offering top executives up to $6 million in stock bonuses if the company meets its cost-reduction goals by the end of fiscal 2027.

One Seattle-based Starbucks employee who has worked in corporate operations for the company for over seven years told BI that several other anonymous flyers have been posted around the building with complaints about changes Niccol is promoting, and that some employees have voiced concern in open Slack channels.

While they won't be personally affected by the RTO order, the employee said they worry about how the company will operate if some of the most passionate partners decide to leave.

"There are some remote partners that have niche knowledge and skills that will leave massive Kool-Aid man-sized holes in the wall if they decide to take the exit payment," the employee said.

Update: Jul 20, 2025 — This story has been updated to include details of other employee actions cited by a Seattle-based Starbucks employee.

Have a tip? Contact this reporter via email at Katherine Tangalakis-Lippert at [email protected] or Signal at byktl.50. Use a personal email address, a nonwork WiFi network, and a nonwork device; here's our guide to sharing information securely.

• Dubai, Bangkok, and Tokyo are rising as new luxury hubs for the global ultra-rich.
• Shanghai and New York are slipping as lifestyle shifts and politics reshape spending patterns.
• Julius Baer's 2025 report shows the wealthy now prioritize wellness, stability, and experiences.

Singapore, London, and Hong Kong still top the charts as the world's most expensive cities — but upstarts like Dubai, Bangkok, and Tokyo are rising fast as global wealth patterns shift.

For the third year running, Singapore ranked as the world's most expensive city for high-net-worth individuals, according to the latest Global Wealth and Lifestyle Report from Julius Baer Group, a Swiss wealth management group.

London moved into second place, nudging Hong Kong into third — but behind these familiar frontrunners, a quiet transformation could soon redraw the global map for the super wealthy

The 2025 edition of the report, published on Monday, tracked the cost of what it called "living well" — meaning the ability to afford and regularly spend on 20 luxury goods and services that high-net-worth individuals typically enjoy.

These include private school fees, luxury property, watches, fancy dinners, and business class flights. Pricing data was collected across 25 cities between November 2024 and March 2025, and each city was ranked based on the weighted-average total cost of all 20 items, converted into US dollars.

To complement the price index, Julius Baer also conducted a separate Lifestyle Survey, polling 360 high-net-worth individuals across 15 countries in February and March 2025 to understand how the wealthy are spending and investing.

While the methodology is robust, it does not account for geopolitical shifts that followed, including the Trump administration's April tariff announcements, and its relatively small sample size may limit broad conclusions.

Still, the findings point to a clear shift in momentum: while the podium remains stable, several key cities — especially in Asia and the Middle East — are climbing fast, suggesting a broader power shift in global luxury hubs.

The top 10 most expensive cities for the wealthy in 2025

1. Singapore.
2. London.
3. Hong Kong.
4. Monaco.
5. Zurich.
6. Shanghai.
7. Dubai.
8. New York.
9. Paris.
10. Milan.

The quiet rise of new luxury capitals

Several emerging cities climbed the rankings at an unexpected pace, especially in Asia and the Middle East.

Dubai jumped five spots to 7th place, edging closer to European strongholds like Monaco and Zurich.

Bangkok and Tokyo both rose six positions, landing at 11th and 17th, respectively, driven by rising costs of fashion, watches, and property.

Bangkok's "growing upper-middle class has had a direct impact on the expansion of the local luxury market," Rishabh Saksena, cohead of Julius Baer's global asset class specialists, told Business Insider.

"Increased wealth has mechanically driven demand for luxury goods and services, allowing the development of luxury malls, fine dining, and experiences such as spas," he said.

"Additionally, the city benefits from Asia's long-standing appeal as a global tourism destination."

Tokyo's rise reflects a similar trend.

"Tokyo, and Japan more broadly, has long been a culturally rich and influential region, with a strong luxury market, especially in areas such as fashion, fine dining, and experiences," Saksena added. "The recent global shift among HNWIs toward valuing experiences over goods has further enhanced Tokyo's attractivity and appeal."

Meanwhile, Shanghai, which topped the index in 2022, fell from 4th to 6th place — a sign that its dominance may be fading

São Paulo and Mexico City also dropped notably in the rankings.

"Dubai is nipping at the heels of the bastion cities in the region for wealth and lifestyle — London, Monaco, and Zurich — in a trend that is likely to continue as the Emirate ups the ante on offering an attractive residence proposition for HNWIs," the report said.

Behind the movements is a growing desire among the ultrawealthy for stability, wellness, and future-focused cities.

The report also notes that Dubai's appeal lies in tax advantages, luxury infrastructure, and a booming property market, while Bangkok and Tokyo benefit from regional economic momentum and cultural cachet.

What's driving the change?

The global average cost of "living well" actually declined 2% in US dollar terms between 2024 and 2025 — a rare drop in a sector typically shielded from macroeconomic headwinds.

Yet, beneath that decline are sharp regional contrasts:

• Business class air fares jumped 18.2% globally, driven by a shortage of jets and booming demand for premium pleasure travel.
• Luxury goods like handbags and jewellery fell in price, reflecting shifting consumer priorities.
• Private school fees soared in cities like London, where new tax rules drove up costs by over 25%.

More broadly, high-net-worth individuals increasingly prioritize experiences over possessions and longevity over status. These include spending more on wellness, curated travel, and health services, especially in Asia-Pacific and the Middle East.

"The main shift we've seen recently is the growing move toward aspirational consumption among HNWIs, who increasingly value experiences over physical goods," Mark Matthews, Head of Research Asia at Julius Baer, told BI.

"This trend varies from one location to another. Markets with a long cultural history of luxury goods (e.g., Switzerland with watches or Germany with cars) tend to show a slower transition toward 'experience-based' spending," he added.

Data from the Lifestyle Survey backs this up.

While luxury spending growth has cooled in Europe — where only 36% of high-net-worth individuals reported spending more on hotels — HNWIs in Asia-Pacific, the Middle East, and Latin America continue to ramp up their spending on high-end fashion, jewellery, and watches.

In APAC, 65% reported increasing spending on both hotels and watches, and 63% on women's fashion. In the Middle East, 52% spent more on hotels and 50% on fine jewellery.

Across the board, travel and hospitality remain top spending priorities, with fine dining and five-star hotels leading the way.

A Eurasian future?

The report also hints at a broader geopolitical rebalancing in how — and where — the world's wealthy choose to live.

"There is already talk of many wealthy Americans decamping to Europe for the next four years — and possibly forever," Julius Baer's report said, citing affluent individuals looking for political stability and strong institutions.

Cities like London, despite Brexit and political change, remain magnets for global wealth thanks to world-class education, healthcare, and cultural capital.

Meanwhile, Dubai plans to double the size of its economy by 2033 and is quickly becoming a rival to Europe's traditional elite enclaves.

• My dad is retired but stays busy, chaperoning events at the local high school and playing softball.
• It's not surprising to me — even before he retired, he never had just one job.
• His version of retirement has shaped my own relationship with work and hustle.

On a recent Saturday morning, my retired parents texted me, the resident family foodie, for restaurant recommendations in Raleigh, North Carolina. I don't live there, but they figured I'd know where to look. They're not on vacation, exactly — they're there for one of my dad's 60-and-over softball league tournaments.

This is just part of what retirement looks like for my dad, a retired FDNY firefighter. Rather than settling into a life of golf courses or cruise ship decks, he's just as busy now as he was when he was working — he's simply doing different things.

After more than 20 years fighting fires in New York City, with his pension secured, my dad could have easily slowed down. He could have embraced the kind of stillness most people dream about. Instead, he picks up shifts chaperoning events at our hometown high school a few times a month, everything from school dances to football games.

During his FDNY days, he spent years as captain of the department's softball team, and these days, he still hits the field for regular batting practice and travels around the country to compete in senior leagues. This is his idea of taking it easy.

It doesn't surprise me at all that he hasn't slowed down

Some people might ask: Why keep "doing" when you don't need to? But that question has never really made sense to me. My dad never had just one job. He was running into burning buildings, yes, but also running a small sunroom business he had built from the ground up while making sure he never missed my brother's hockey games or my dance recitals.

His own parents had grown up in Queens with very little and worked hard to move the family out to a house in the suburbs. I think, on some level, he felt he owed it to them to make good on that effort. The way I saw it growing up, slowing down almost felt selfish — movement wasn't just a habit, it was a way of honoring where we came from.

It's no surprise, then, that I find myself replicating that rhythm. I work full-time as the Head of Marketing at a music tech startup, which means that on evenings and weekends, I'm rarely truly "off." And, still, I pitch articles like this one, and I take on freelance clients when I can. The idea of being satisfied with just one job — even if it's a stable one — has never quite taken root in me, and that's not because I fear stillness, but because ambition has always looked like staying in motion.

Watching my dad retire taught me that effort doesn't stop being meaningful once the paycheck becomes optional; it just becomes far more personal when you're not just doing it for money. He does it because he likes being part of something that's larger than himself, whether that's in the hallways of his alma mater or trash-talking in the dugout with guys he's known for decades. There's an inherent purpose in that rhythm.

And sure, I know what the headlines say: older Americans are working longer, and it's often framed around worries about economic uncertainty, about disappearing pensions, and sometimes that is why. But, sometimes, it's a value system passed down — whether we asked for it or not.

I'll likely have a similar version of retirement

My dad's version of retirement is not about refusing to rest but rather about refusing to disappear. His life now is proof that being mentally, socially, and physically active can be its own kind of joy, that usefulness and community don't have to be casualties of aging.

He's still ordering new bats and gloves, booking travel to tournaments, and texting me for restaurant recs in whatever city he's landed in. Meanwhile, I'm working from home in San Juan, Puerto Rico, laptop open, pitching another story while practicing my Spanish and planning my next salsa class. Clearly, neither of us seems interested in sitting still.

When I think about my own future, I'm not sure I'll ever want the version of retirement where I just vanish into leisure, either. Maybe that's the gift my dad gave me: a model for what aging could look like — one where I don't lose sight of myself, but I refocus. Not a stop point, but an entirely new chapter to start — one where your time is still yours to shape in whichever way you see fit.

If I ever do retire, I hope it looks a lot like his. Full of play, purpose, and enough momentum to keep me in motion.

• Mark Zuckerberg's Meta is betting on GPUs and compute power to help attract top talent.
• His philanthropic organization, the Chan Zuckerberg Initiative, is doing the same.
• His wife, Priscilla Chan, talked about CZI's recruitment efforts on a recent podcast episode.

Compute power is a big draw for top talent, but not just in the world of AI.

Priscilla Chan, Mark Zuckerberg's wife and the cofounder of the couple's philanthropic organization, the Chan Zuckerberg Initiative, spoke about the appeal of massive GPU clusters for biology researchers during a recent episode of Ashlee Vance's "Core Memory" podcast.

"The other thing researchers really care about is access to GPUs," she said. "You're not going to make the most of someone if you don't actually have the GPUs for them to work from."

Chan said, "We have that at CZI," adding that the organization has roughly 1,000 GPUs in its cluster, with plans to keep growing.

In short, Chan said the pitch is: "Come work with us because we're going to have the computing power to support the research that you want to do."

Another important factor is compensation, which she said is "obviously important," though she added that "we cannot compete with tech companies on this."

CZI has in recent years narrowed its mission to focus on its "next phase" with a "bolder, clearer identity as a science-first philanthropy." The change marks a strategic shift, as the organization previously also supported education and other causes.

"While CZI remains committed to our work in education and our local communities, we recognize that science is where our biggest investments and bets have been and will be made moving forward," Chan, a pediatrician by training, wrote in a memo to staff last year.

Zuckerberg made a similar point about the importance of GPUs in recruiting on a recent episode of The Information's TITV show. Meta is spending billions to build an AI division it calls Superintelligence Labs.

"Historically, when I was recruiting people to different parts of the company, people are like, 'Okay, what's my scope going to be?'" the Meta CEO said. "Here, people say, 'I want the fewest number of people reporting to me and the most GPUs.'"

Meta, of course, has significantly more GPUs than CZI. Zuckerberg has said the company will have 1.3 million GPUs for AI by the end of 2025.

"Having basically the most compute per researcher is definitely a strategic advantage, not just for doing the work but for attracting the best people," he said.

• Salary data suggests that sportswear giant Nike has invested in tech and product jobs as it stages a comeback plan.
• CEO Elliott Hill said Nike is focused on revitalizing its brand through culture, product, and marketing.
• Work visa data shows how much the company pays for some roles in software, design, and other tech jobs.

As Nike tries to mount a comeback and live up to its reputation as a dominant retail force, the sportswear giant appears to be investing in some tech and design jobs.

Publicly available work visa data, which companies are required to disclose to the US Department of Labor, gives an idea of how much Nike's employees bring home and some of the roles it has invested in.

Nike had about 890 open positions worldwide listed on its jobs board as of July 18.

Current CEO Elliott Hill, who rejoined the company in October, has told investors that Nike is aligning its employees to focus on five key action areas: culture, product, marketing, marketplace, and connecting with consumers on the ground in their communities.

That strategy plays into Nike's efforts to focus its marquee brands — Nike, Jordan, and Converse — on key sports such as running and basketball.

"We are in the midst of realignment at Nike," Nike said in a statement to Business Insider. The realignment and sport strategy aim to "create sharper distinction and dimension" for its brands, the company said.

Here's what some key Nike roles can earn based on data through the quarter ending in March.

The salary data includes information from Nike Inc. and some subsidiaries, such as its retail services arm and Air Manufacturing Innovation division. It reflects US-based roles and, given it's based on H1-B visa disclosures, tends to skew more tech-focused.

Data and engineering roles: Software engineers can earn more than $300,000

Software Engineer: $146,383 to $172,661 a year

Software Engineer II: $156,641 to $172,780 a year

Software Engineer III: $139,845 to $192,227 a year

Senior Director, Software Engineering: $301,378 a year

Data Engineering: $99,123 to $265,466 a year

Data Analytics: $114,600 to $163,985 a year

Design roles: Some designers make around $100,000

Materials Designer: $100,000 a year

Senior Digital Product Designer: $126,617 a year

Senior 3D Designer: $91,707 a year

Manager roles: Managers can take home more than $270,000

Senior Manager, Software Engineering: $273,156 a year

Delivery Excellence, Uniform Operations Manager: $164,439 a year

Product Manager: $154,577 to $204,753 a year

Manager, Data Engineer: $168,031 to $213,190 a year

Senior Program Manager: $147,434 a year

Supply Chain Intelligence Manager: $158,311 a year

• A 'kiss cam' video appeared to show Astronomer's CEO embracing the firm's head of HR.
• The incident went viral around the world and led to CEO Andy Byron resigning.
• It's not the kind of publicity Astronomer would likely have hoped for, but it could benefit the firm.

All eyes this week have been on a once-little-known tech company called Astronomer.

While it's not been the kind of attention Astronomer would likely have hoped for, it's been said that all publicity is good publicity, and some public relations experts who spoke to Business Insider said the newfound fame could, ultimately, benefit the firm.

The viral moment that catapulted the data company into the global spotlight took place at a Coldplay concert near Boston on Wednesday, when a "kiss cam" appeared to show then-Astronomer CEO Andy Byron embracing the company's head of human resources, Kristin Cabot.

After spotting themselves on the big screen, the clearly panicked pair attempted to dodge the camera, prompting Coldplay front man Chris Martin to speculate that they were "having an affair or they're just very shy."

The clip shot around the world and fueled a torrent of memes and internet sleuthing. Major brands like Netflix and even the Phillie Phanatic got in on the viral opportunity.

Ryan McCormick, cofounder of Goldman McCormick, a public relations firm in New York, described it as a possible "blessing in disguise."

"The real silver lining is that if this company is doing something truly innovative and they're doing something truly groundbreaking, the likelihood of someone finding them has increased substantially," McCormick told BI.

"In the short term, they're embedded in controversy, but they're going to have people looking at them in a way they've never done before. I think that they'll probably come out OK."

In a statement on Friday, Astronomer said its leaders were "expected to set the standard in both conduct and accountability" and that it had launched a "formal investigation" into the incident. It added that Byron had been placed on leave. On Saturday, it said the exec had resigned.

McCormick said Byron's departure would create some distance between the viral drama and the company.

"I think they took the high road. They did what needed to be done, which was probably a hard decision," McCormick said. "If I were an investor or employee at that company, I would feel pretty confident."

The company also used its Saturday statement to draw attention to its work.

"Before this week, we were known as a pioneer in the DataOps space," it said. "While awareness of our company may have changed overnight, our product and our work for our customers have not."

Mike Fahey, the founder and CEO of Fahey Communications, told BI that this showed the company was making "a concerted effort to redirect the narrative to where it is favorable."

"Astronomer is fighting back, working to position its offerings and overall customer experience as strong and reliable," he said, adding that the company "now has more eyes on it than ever before."

But the New York-based firm had initially remained silent as the social media storm gathered force and users flooded its channels with comments, which Fahey said was a mistake.

"The timing of the statement was notably delayed," he said of Astronomer's Friday announcement. "The absence of official communication created a void quickly filled by rumors, fake statements, and memes that spread widely on social media."

One viral post included a fake apology letter attributed to Byron that featured a lyric from a Coldplay song. It was widely assumed to be real and picked apart relentlessly online. Astronomer said Friday that Byron had not made any statement and that "reports saying otherwise are all incorrect."

Kristi Piehl, founder and CEO of Media Minefield, said the company made the same mistake as the pair on the "kiss cam."

"The way that they reacted online and on social media is exactly how the two people involved reacted. When the camera hit them, they hid," Piehl said.

"The first impression is so important. And the company allowed the first impression to be social media, the internet, and strangers."

Deirdre Latour, the founder of Rebellis Communications, also suggested the company had gotten it wrong with its initial silence.

"This is just the worst version of PR malpractice that you can see from a company," she said. "They are letting this terribly worded statement, blaming Coldplay and others, fester out in the marketplace."

She added that the situation was "easy to fix" and that an internal memo should have been sent to employees addressing the incident.

Representatives for Astronomer did not respond to a request for comment from Business Insider.

• Aritzia CEO Jennifer Wong laid out some ambitious goals last year for a US expansion.
• Now, the women's wear retailer appears to be beating expectations for store count and sales.
• BI took a closer look at the 41-year-old company that is seeing a new chapter of success.

Watch out, Lululemon: Another Vancouver-based apparel maker is making a play for US shoppers.

Aritzia, the everyday luxury womenswear retailer, has steadily gained ground and grown sales over the past several years with its assortment of stylish activewear and comfortable office wear.

The company said in July that it grew its retail footprint by 25% over the last year, including opening 13 stores and redesigning three existing ones. The expansion helped drive retail sales up 34% year over year last quarter.

"We've done a lot of work over the past 1 1/2 years, two years to refine our playbook and ensure that our inventory is productive and efficient. And I think we're in a fantastic place right now, very well-positioned," CEO Jennifer Wong said in an earnings call.

The results appear to be delivering on some ambitious goals Wong laid out last year as Aritzia's US expansion was heating up.

Wong was not immediately available for an interview with Business Insider, but she detailed her strategy in several interviews with other outlets.

"We're tackling all the major cities where we know our brand and product resonates with the customer," she told Vogue Business last November. "The next step is to fill in the rest of the country."

Founded in 1984 in Vancouver, Aritzia saw steady growth in Canada before entering the US in 2007. The company saw a bumper year in 2020, followed by some pandemic-era challenges, and has since tripled sales to more than CAD$2.7 billion last year.

Wong has been with the company since its early days, rising through the ranks to eventually take over the helm from founder Brian Hill in 2022. She soon doubled the rate of store openings, helping to extend the momentum of the return-to-office era.

"We experienced some explosive growth coming out of Covid," she said. "There was pent-up demand and a whole new energy. That really accelerated our business in the US, and we became more well known than ever. We've been really riding that momentum since."

There are 68 locations in Canada and 63 in the US, and the company says it could see the US figure grow to more than 150 over the next few years, not to mention its growing e-commerce operation.

Four of those locations will open in the next few months in the Boston area, Miami, Salt Lake City, and Raleigh, North Carolina.

While Aritzia's stores have drawn some derision on TikTok for their mirrorless (and sometimes crowded) dressing rooms, its high-touch "style advisor" sales approach harkens back to the kind of personalized shopping experience offered at luxury department stores like Bergdorf Goodman.

Of course, it's the clothing that ultimately makes or breaks the sale for fashion brands, and Aritzia appears to be delivering good value for its customers.

In terms of style and substance, BI's reviews team called Aritzia's apparel "as timeless and elegant as it is trendy and modern" and said the quality is "undisputed."

Price-wise, analysts at Jefferies looked at comparable products from nine peer retailers and found Aritzia to be a cut above the mid-tier but a step below the highest-priced brands. In other words, it is more expensive than Lululemon and J. Crew but less pricey than Anthropologie and Madewell. In addition, Aritiza's prices are less frequently marked down than some competitors.

The Jefferies analysts suggested that the relative pricing and demand for Aritzia products give the company more room to grow in sales and profits, propelling its expansion.

From its merchandise to stores to tech, it appears Aritzia is getting a lot of retail fundamentals right — and reaping the rewards.

"It's not any one of those things, but it's all of these things that come together and how we've been able to execute well over the years on all of it," Wong told the Business of Fashion in January. "When I say we want to be excellent at everything, that's really what's in our minds."

• Dawn Choo took a 40% pay cut to pivot from finance to a tech job at Amazon.
• Choo's transition involved moving from a quant role at Bank of America to a business analyst role.
• Her career shift eventually led to her dream job at Meta, after applying around seven times.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Dawn Choo, the 34-year-old founder of Interview Master, based in Chattanooga, Tennessee. Her identity, employment history, and salary have been verified by Business Insider. This story has been edited for length and clarity.

I interned at Facebook in college, and my dream was to get a data scientist job at Instagram — but I didn't get an offer.

I took the first offer I got in college because I had interviewed so many times at so many different places. Finally, I got a finance offer from Bank of America, and I took it because I needed a job to stay in the country, even if it wasn't exactly the industry I wanted.

It was a quant role, but it wasn't very data-heavy. I did backend work, like building models to help predict if companies that took a loan from us were going to default on the loan. I was there for three and a half years, but I started applying for tech jobs about a year and a half into the job.

Again, I tried so many times. I was not the best at interviewing. I applied to about 100 places, interviewed at maybe 10, and then finally I got an Amazon offer in 2017.

I took a roughly 40% pay cut and a step back in my career

The Amazon job was for a business analyst role, and it was a really big pivot.

When I applied, I knew I was taking a step back in my career given the scope of work, but I didn't realize I would be taking a roughly 40% pay cut.

I was living in New York City in a one-bedroom with a roommate, so that 40% really made a big difference.

Despite what felt like moving backward, I could see the upsides of taking the job. Amazon's a big company, and I knew it was a step toward where I wanted to go. I had to make some adjustments, like eating at home more. But I also felt like it was a step back in my career because I suddenly stepped into a service-desk role.

I didn't love the work I did at Bank of America either, but at least I was building models and writing extensive documentation. At Amazon, I felt like I wasn't really learning much, and many times, I wondered, "Why did I take this pay cut? Why did I make this transition? Should I just go back?"

At times, it didn't feel like the right move, but I recognized that I had agency over that decision. I chose to be there, and it was a privilege for me to be able to make that choice.

Things got better

The upside of the work being very repetitive and simple was that I could automate it. The automation project started as a pet project — I randomly came up with the idea and pitched it to an executive. He loved it so much and kept pushing me to do it that eventually, I did.

I was promoted from business analyst to business intelligence engineer. What was initially my site tech project became a full-staff team of five business intelligence engineers.

I worked for Amazon for two years before getting my dream job as a data scientist at Instagram.

I interviewed at Meta so many times previously. After my internship, I applied about seven times and interviewed maybe four or five times. I almost canceled my final round of interviews because I couldn't get rejected again.

I think my experience working in tech and product changed my application. I also had a lot more leadership experience since I spearheaded a project. Plus, I matured around interviewing and presenting myself.

I worked at Instagram for about three years and three months. The office was beautiful. The people I worked with were incredible and made me feel challenged. I made a lot of good friends, and we went through COVID together. They were part of my pod.

Bets take time to pay off

For others thinking about making a career transition, I would say take the pay cut if you have to. I've always feared regret more than failure. I knew if I didn't take the Amazon job, I would be upset for not betting on myself.

It's also important to recognize that some of these bets take a long time to pay out. It took me two years, which wasn't that long, but I know other people where it took longer to get that payout.

Sometimes, even after the payout, you see other people in your situation and you think, "Wow, this person got this data science job at Facebook right out of college." So, at that point, I was about eight years older than this person doing the exact same thing. And it didn't feel great. So, maybe don't compare yourself to other people.

I will always say take the bet on yourself — and I'm doing it again. I pretty much took a 100% pay cut this time. I went from my comfy corporate job with insurance, travel perks, and stability to work for myself, and I hope the payout will come soon.

When Elon Musk and the Department of Government Efficiency took a chainsaw to the federal workforce this winter, the dust felt like it might never settle.

The administration said the initiative was designed to "streamline the Federal Government, eliminate unnecessary programs, and reduce bureaucratic inefficiency." Chaotic rollouts, weekend emails, contentious court battles, tech wunderkinds let loose, and muddled directives came to define the early months of the Trump administration's cost-cutting effort. Nobody knew what the next week might bring.

Now, as the initiative's six-month mark approaches — and a Supreme Court ruling allowed the stalled firings to proceed — many former federal workers have had time to reflect on what it all meant.

"It's always going to be part of who I am, regardless of what my jobs entail in the future," former National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration employee Tom Di Liberto told Business Insider. "I'll always be known as that, as part of that group of people."

In a series of conversations with BI, six former government employees spoke about their career shifts, their advice to other workers, and what life is like outside the government.

Egan Reich, 45, Department of Labor

Reich joined the Department of Labor in 2010. He worked in a variety of roles, including director of media and editorial services.

During Trump's first term, Reich said, federal workers were largely left alone to do their jobs. When the president's second term came around, the energy across federal agencies was noticeably different: Reich said that press inquiries revolved around DOGE, HR, or IT, rather than grants, policy, or enforcement.

"For a couple months, as appointees trickled in and DOGE started to make itself known, it became a very strange, paranoid, alienating experience," Reich said. "It became clear they really wanted people gone."

He accepted the agency's second deferred resignation offer in April, which allowed employees to resign while receiving pay through the fall. "There was just no way I was going to make it through four years of this," he said.

Reich is now on the job hunt, finishing up a TV pilot with his brother, and spending more time with his daughter. He's casting a wide net when it comes to communications roles, and has applied for around 25 jobs, he said. He tries hard to ensure he's not falling into self-pity.

"I'm glad that I'm not there, but I'm anxious, right? I'm just knowing I need to pay the mortgage and find a job, and hopefully it will be one where I can still spend time with my daughter."

His day-to-day hasn't changed much: He wakes up and goes to bed at the same time, and school drop-off and pick-up remain the same. His disorientation stems from something a bit more existential.

"It's been a lot more of a change in my mind and ways of looking at the world than lifestyle. Something has definitely broken. It's a lot bigger than my job," he said.

Kira Carrigan, 36, Office of Personnel Management

Carrigan started at OPM in December 2024. She had a remote job as an HR specialist.

Carrigan has been unable to search for a new role because she's moving across the country for her husband's military job. Federal jobs are especially important for military spouses, since they typically offer more scheduling and work-from-home flexibility than the private sector.

She started working at OPM on December 16, and was fired less than two months later on a mass video call.

"I miss my job and the remote work ability to allow me continued employment through my military spouse relocation," Carrigan said.

Carrigan said she refused deferred resignation both times it was offered, and she's pursuing an appeal to the Merit Systems Protection Board in a last-ditch attempt to regain her federal employment.

"I do want to return, but I would have significant moral issues serving under this administration," she said. Barring a return to the federal government, she said, "I'm hoping to find something in my local city government or school district."

Rachel Brittin, 47, National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration

Brittin started at NOAA in 2023. She coordinated with the agency's private and public sector stakeholders.

Brittin was first fired from NOAA on February 27, reinstated, and fired again on April 10.

"Losing my job at NOAA was more than a career setback — it was emotionally exhausting and deeply disorienting," Brittin said. "I poured myself into the mission, only to be abruptly cut out."

Getting fired as a probationary employee was a challenge; Brittin said she didn't have any chance to defend her record.

Brittin said she's applied to dozens of jobs, including in the private sector, and hopes to stay in communications at a mission-driven organization, but it's been hard to land anything with so many "highly qualified candidates" on the market.

Ideally, she'd stay at a science-based organization, but is open to other opportunities. Brittin sees her job in the federal workforce as an "asset," in part because she mastered in-demand skills: "Navigating complexity, staying mission-focused, working under pressure, adapting to change."

For now, she's "hanging on" financially, and her husband has a secure job that's keeping them afloat. She's tried to stay busy by taking online courses, volunteering to help friends and startups, and networking.

"Knowing others in the same boat as me has helped me feel not so alone," she said.

Tom Di Liberto, 40, National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration

Di Liberto started at NOAA in 2023. He worked in public affairs and was a climate spokesperson.

After being fired as a probationary employee in February, Di Liberto said he was lucky to find work as a media director at a nonprofit climate organization. But getting there wasn't easy, and he knows many others are still grinding through the job hunt.

He said former federal workers should remember being fired doesn't reflect their worth and they shouldn't be afraid to discuss the reductions in force with potential employers.

"It was also a bit weird during the interview process when asked to describe yourself and why you want this job. I did not have plans of getting a new job," he said. He said he made sure to emphasize his primary mission is addressing climate change.

His job search began in February, and he started his new job in early June. He spent frugally and leaned on his wife's income to support their family. During those months, he cooked more and cut back on takeout; he also prioritized his mental health with walks and Legos.

The private sector has been an adjustment, he said. It's been odd, for example, to work with fewer people and be able to upgrade software quickly instead of over a few months. Di Liberto also estimated that the NGO jobs he was looking at paid between 20% and 40% less than his role at NOAA.

He's reminded of his past life living in DC, where he encounters others who were also let go from government jobs. Di Liberto's first grader recently brought up his father's job loss in school, where it led to a class-wide conversation, he said.

Jonathan Kamens, 55, US Digital Service

Kamens started at USDS in 2023. He was a software engineer and was detailed to a cybersecurity role at the Department of Veterans Affairs.

Kamens was fired from the US Digital Service — now the US DOGE Service — in February, and he landed a new job in March working remotely for a private-sector company based in Australia. He said that he's fortunate to be getting a paycheck, but the slashing of the federal workforce continues to weigh him down.

"In micro, I have a job, I'm getting paid to work, I can support my family. But in macro, the whole world is burning," Kamens said. He added that it's difficult to live his normal life "and continue to work in a system that in many ways is disintegrating around you."

He said that he's "minimally engaged" with other colleagues who left the federal workforce because it was taking a toll on his mental health. He said public servants who are still employed with the federal government face challenges under the continued influence of DOGE.

"There is a really strong normalcy bias happening," Kamens said. "In order for them to continue to function, they have to believe that this is just another administration and it will be fine after the midterms or 2028."

Nagela Nukuna, 30, US Digital Service

Nukuna started at USDS in 2022. She advised on and implemented domestic policy, working across agencies on funding, innovation, and automation projects.

Nukuna never saw herself working for a nonprofit. But that's where she landed after she was fired from the USDS on February 14.

"I ran through most of my savings to weather that time," Nukuna said. "Luckily I was able to get a job but I did have some financial hardship and strain over that time, especially because it was just unexpected."

Her government job paid a lot less than private sector positions she'd held before, so she was in the red since taking her job at USDS. Her spending didn't drastically change after getting fired, since it was already carefully calculated.

Nukuna began to look for jobs outside the government after the election. Some of her work at USDS was related to immigration, and she thought she might be impacted by future job cuts. She said she applied to 85 jobs, mainly in the tech and AI spaces, and "got a bajillion rejections" before landing her current role at an education nonprofit a month after her firing.

Generally, Nukuna tried to use her past government work to her advantage during the job search, and said some interviewers asked if she could work with people she disagreed with politically.

"Luckily, because I started earlier, I had some leads already and people that I've been talking to, and I just went on high drive once I got fired," she said. "There was a period where I was doing like five interviews a week and all day exercises."

She said she does mental health check-ins with friends who are still working for the federal government. Nukuna said she likely would have left her USDS role voluntarily due to the mental toll it was taking on her.

Although she had previously worked in the private sector, she chose the nonprofit route this time because she was "really drawn to the mission" and the people.

• When Orrin Onken retired in 2020, he thought his golden years would look quiet and relaxing.
• Instead, he realized his phone addiction was recreating the stress he experienced at work.
• Onken, a former lawyer, is now setting rules to prevent his phone from poisoning his retirement.

Recently, I decided to watch The Brutalist — a movie that's won multiple Academy Awards and has been widely praised by critics — with my wife. I got snacks from the kitchen, snuggled into my recliner, and prepared to be mesmerized by great art.

Not even 10 minutes had passed before I reached for my smartphone. No one was calling me. I wasn't expecting any texts, emails, or alerts. Yet, as the movie played, for reasons unknown even to me, I was staring at the tiny screen in my hand.

Relentless phone-checking has become a regular occurrence in my life, so much so that it's poisoning my retirement. It's become an addiction, and I'm determined to overcome it.

When I was a lawyer, my phone was mostly a helpful tool

I retired from the practice of law in 2020. During my working years, my screen time was quite limited. My staff screened calls to the office, and I checked emails twice a day on my computer. My mobile mostly stayed in my pocket, reserved for communicating with my office on court days or for calling my wife.

When the time came for me to stop working, my retirement plans were ordinary. I imagined the time-consuming demands of clients and courts would be replaced by travel, gardening, and the leisurely reading of good books.

But what I didn't predict was that my handy pocket computer would turn on me and become a source of the kind of stress I retired to escape.

As a retiree, I find myself checking my phone all too often

My smartphone is an amazing tool. It opens and starts my car. With it, I can locate my house keys, my luggage, and even my wife. I can change the temperature in my home and see what the security cameras see. I can read books, play five-minute chess, and follow the news.

But what do I really do? I check it dozens of times a day for little or no reason. I get hooked on clickbait in my news feed: "The ingredient that every grilled cheese sandwich needs," "Five exercises that will give you eternal life," and whatever else the algorithm has concocted to catch my attention.

When I was still working as a lawyer, I didn't get sucked into my news feed in the same way, mostly because I didn't have the time. Nowadays, I find myself checking my phone because it relieves the anxiety I feel when I leave it unchecked for too long.

In the course of my life, I've overcome difficulties with alcohol, nicotine, and overeating. With each of those addictions, I knew I was in trouble when I was no longer going for the substance to feel good, but because using gave me temporary respite from withdrawal symptoms. I was doing the same thing with my phone.

Over time, I realized the relaxed retirement I'd envisioned was being sandwiched into the intervals between checking my phone. During my working days, I obsessed about my cases, and my mind would wander off to one of them at random moments. Today, it wanders off similarly to the call of social media and my news feed.

Phones are too valuable a tool in our modern society for abstinence, so I knew I had to learn to regulate my screen use instead of going cold turkey.

The journey to wean myself from addiction has begun

I want a retirement in which I participate in the world, instead of being pulled out of it by repeatedly engaging in behaviors that don't make me happy.

My first step toward this goal was to admit my dependence and then become sensitive to the difference between using my phone productively and grabbing it at every uncomfortable juncture in life.

Two months ago, I set some rules I adapted from when I quit smoking twenty-five years ago. I'd notice when I felt an urge to check my phone, and then tell myself to wait 10 minutes. When that time had passed, I'd often forget about the urge or decide I could wait another 10 minutes.

My aim is to be intentional about checking my phone. And it's working. Those intermittent rewards are already losing their grip on me.

When I do eventually look at my phone, because I have a reason to, the cheap reward of three likes on my social media post still gives me a little thrill, but I no longer go looking for them by refreshing my feed twenty minutes after I posted.

I want to learn to control my phone, rather than let it control me

As I navigate healthier phone use, I won't condemn myself for watching funny videos of cats or stop playing online chess. I only want to end the mindless checking — the things that, when I am finished, make me feel stupid and sad.

I didn't walk away from the pressures of the law office to replace them with pressure from my phone. I aspire to a retirement of simple tasks and quiet days. It's a vision that no one ever achieves in this day and age, but for now, I won't allow that fantasy to be destroyed by my own behaviour and a tiny screen inside my pocket.

Do you have a story to share about retirement? Contact the editor, Charissa Cheong, at [email protected]

• I was two months pregnant when my sister asked to move in with my partner and me.
• At first, our dynamic was great, and we loved living together. Then, it got a little tense.
• We were in different places, and she eventually moved out, but we're now as close as ever.

When I was two months pregnant with my first child, my older sister called and asked if she could move in temporarily with my partner and me. She needed a fresh start and had decided to move interstate from the Gold Coast, Australia, where we grew up, to Melbourne, where I had been living for about a year.

At the time, my partner Sam and I were living in an old 1950s two-bedroom flat. I'd lived with my sister before in my 20s, so I knew she was easy to live with. After chatting with Sam about it, he said he didn't mind her crashing for a while until she got on her feet.

And so, a few weeks later, my sister arrived on our doorstep.

At first, living together was great

Luckily, my partner and sister have always got on well. Years ago, the three of us traveled through Laos and Thailand together, then later we backpacked around Cuba with my sister, so there was a lot of shared history between us.

Those first couple of months living together were really fun. My sister landed a corporate job in the city and quickly settled into Melbourne life. Melbourne is a cosmopolitan city that's known for its vibrant festival scene, which we embraced wholeheartedly. Every weekend, we would head to an international festival or cultural celebration together.

The household dynamic worked really well to start with. My sister paid rent, which helped us financially. We took turns cooking, and everyone got along. I remember coming home to find my partner squeezing my sister's blackheads on the couch one night and thinking, "Wow, this has taken their bond to a whole new level."

It was a time of transition, and things became a little tense

But it was also a really hectic time for Sam and me. I was battling the trials and tribulations of the first trimester of pregnancy and working full-time as a journalist, while Sam was trying to build his remedial massage business.

Within a few weeks of my sister living with us, Sam proposed to me. We'd been together for about eight years by that point, and with a baby on the way, marriage seemed like the logical next step. Suddenly, there was a wedding to arrange, which added to the stress levels.

After the wedding and honeymoon, I started to feel like the living arrangement wasn't really working out. My pregnancy was getting further along, and my hormones were raging. My sister was in a different phase of life. She was in party mode, while I wanted to nest, decorate the baby's nursery, and relish that so-called newlywed bliss that everyone talks about.

After a while, things became a little tense in the household. I began to feel like we needed our own space. I'm not very good at being direct with people, so I'd discreetly ask my sister how the house hunt was coming along. She eventually got the message and found a flat for herself after five months of living with us.

My sister moved out, and our relationship returned to normal

As soon as she had her own place, our relationship went back to the way it had been before. Sam and I were able to spend some quality time together alone before our son was born and our lives changed forever, while my sister could party guilt-free at her own digs.

Our son is 10 now, and my sister and I live in different states. She has a beautiful little girl of her own and has left the partying days behind. We're still as close as ever despite the eight-year age difference between us, and we often reflect on the happy memories we made in Melbourne together all those moons ago.

• Meghan Markle's As Ever brand released its first wine, a rosé from Napa Valley.
• A group of Business Insider reporters tasted it in a blind test, comparing it to three other rosés.
• As Ever's flavor was unexpected, but we'd definitely buy the rosé again.

"Rosé all day" is more than a phrase. It's a mantra, a lifestyle, and — some might even say — a call to action.

Meghan Markle answered that call when her lifestyle brand As Ever released a rosé on July 1.

The wine space is getting more crowded by the day, particularly as more celebrities join the fray, and I, for one, couldn't wait to see how Meghan made her rosé stand out.

Meghan Markle is in her wine-making era.

The Duchess of Sussex launched her As Ever brand in the spring, selling items like fruit spreads, high-end honey, and flower petal sprinkles.

As Ever's first two product drops sold out within an hour, and in June, the company announced it was debuting its first-ever wine, a 2023 Napa Valley Rosé curated by Meghan.

As Ever said its rosé is supposed to taste "crisp" and has notes of "stone fruit, gentle minerality, and a lasting finish," much like Provençal rosés from France.

The rosé retails for $30 on As Ever's website, and it sold out almost immediately after going on sale on July 1. The bottles are only available in packs of three, six, or twelve, so it costs consumers at least $90 to taste Meghan's rosé. As Ever has not yet announced if or when it'll restock the rosé.

Because royals and rosé are two of my greatest passions, I knew I had to try As Ever's wine.

I've been writing about the royal family and Meghan for years. I've also been closely following As Ever over the past few months as Meghan further expands into the lifestyle space.

Plus, I'm a big rosé fan when I'm off the clock, so I knew I had to try Meghan's wine when it was released.

I decided the best way to experience As Ever's rosé would be in a blind taste test, comparing it to a few other popular rosés on the market.

I got a few of my colleagues to participate in the taste test with me.

I didn't think it would be fair to assess the wines by myself, especially because I'm pretty easy to please when it comes to rosé. Give me a glass of pink, cold wine, and I'll be a happy camper.

Three of my colleagues graciously volunteered to spend a Tuesday afternoon drinking with me. (They are such givers, I know.)

Here's a quick rundown of why you can trust us. Spoiler alert: The main qualification is that we like drinking wine.

Callie Ahlgrim, senior pop culture writer: I did work at a wine bar for like a year, but that was a long, long time ago. And since then, I drink wine recreationally and copiously.

Samantha Rollins, deputy editor of entertainment and real estate: I'm a wine enthusiast who has been to France, the rosé capital of the world, in my opinion. So that's my only qualification.

Joi-Marie McKenzie, editor in chief, Life: I'm a new wine lover. I did not drink wine that much in my 20s. I love Rieslings and rosés, and I just got into red. So I think I would be quite picky because I'm sort of new to the whole thing.

Samantha Pettyjohn, senior lifestyle reporter (me): I love rosé, especially in the summer. I'm also well-versed in Meghan Markle and went to California wine country on my honeymoon.

We sampled four rosés total, including another celebrity brand.

For the taste test, I selected three wines in addition to As Ever, choosing rosés that were pretty similar in price point to Meghan's.

It seemed only fitting to include another celebrity brand, so I chose Côtes de Provence Rosé from Château Miraval, Brad Pitt's wine company. Pitt's Provençal-style rosé cost $23.88.

Next, I selected the $22.49 Summer Water Rosé, which is made on the California coast and offers a slightly different experience with a screw cap.

Finally, I included Whispering Angel, one of the most popular rosés on the market. It's a personal favorite of mine and is made in the Provençal-style like As Ever. It was $22.96.

As Ever ended up being the most expensive wine of the bunch, which wasn't surprising considering it isn't widely available like the others.

We kept the test completely blind.

For the test, I put a piece of tape on the bottom of each wine glass with "A," "B," "C," or "D" written on it, which corresponded to one of the wines. The code was:

• A: Summer Water
• B: As Ever
• C: Whispering Angel
• D: Château Miraval

The wine was poured out of sight and given to us in a random order, so we didn't know which rosé we were tasting.

Brad Pitt's rosé wasn't a hit with our group.

First, we tried Miraval's rosé, aka Brad Pitt's wine, aka "wine D" during the test. The flavor was a bit intense for some of us.

McKenzie: It's good to me.

Ahlgrim: It has kind of a sharp aftertaste.

Rollins: It's honestly kind of bitter. I usually like bitter things, but it's a little too bitter.

Pettyjohn: I like it. It's sharp, and I wish I had some cheese to eat with it. It has a champagne-y flavor.

McKenzie: And that, to me, resonates.

Rollins: There's something about it that I don't really like.

Pettyjohn: If a bottle were offered to me, I would certainly have a glass, if not two.

McKenzie: It'd be perfect for hot weather.

Ahlgrim: I think it's more of a dinner wine than a relaxing by the pool kind of wine.

Summer Water tasted the most like a classic rosé to us.

Next, we tried Summer Water, known to us as "wine A." We immediately noticed that it had a pinker hue and a distinct aroma. As we took our first sip, it was easy to see why.

Pettyjohn: Oh, that is way more berry-forward.

Rollins: It's a little more effervescent.

Pettyjohn: This is definitely more pool vibes to me.

McKenzie: This is a better wine.

Ahlgrim: Lighter.

McKenzie: I didn't notice the aftertaste being that sharp on D, but now, this has no aftertaste, and I'm like, "This is better."

Ahlgrim: I like a funkier, tangier wine, but I think most people expect rosé to be a bit sweeter and smoother. So I think this fits what people reach for when they reach for a rosé, more so than the first one.

McKenzie: As a sweet enthusiast, it has my vote.

Ahlgrim: I don't know if I would spend $30 on it because it feels like such easy drinking.

Rollins: To me, this is giving rosé all day. There ain't nothing wrong with it.

As Ever took us by surprise.

As Ever was the third wine we tried, under the alias "wine B." It had the most unexpected flavor profile of the bunch.

Ahlgrim: Oh, I like the smell. This smells more expensive.

Pettyjohn: This tastes expensive. But it doesn't taste like rosé to me. It's good, but it is not what I would expect.

Rollins: This is like a very dry white, maybe.

McKenzie: It has a very bold flavor.

Ahlgrim: I actually like that I don't think it tastes like a rosé. It's much bolder than I expected. I feel like it's aged.

Rollins: There's something oaky about it.

Pettyjohn: It's fancy.

Ahlgrim: It's earthy, almost.

McKenzie: It tastes like a chardonnay. It is giving oak chardonnay.

Whispering Angel had the group split.

The final wine of the test was Whispering Angel, which we labeled "wine C." It was a hit or miss vibe for the testers.

Pettyjohn: I do like this one. This is what I would consider easy rosé drinking.

Ahlgrim: Oh, this is bland.

McKenzie: It's very harsh on my tongue. I don't prefer this at all.

Rollins: Really? This one seems like an easier drinking version of B and D.

McKenzie: This one? I don't like it at all. I just taste more of the alcoholic taste, which I don't love.

Ahlgrim: Yes, I think there's very little flavor, and it's more alcohol-forward. This is my least favorite of the four.

Rollins: I feel like this one splits the difference between all of them. It's got a bit of the berry of the other ones, but it's still dry, and it's got the rosé.

Ahlgrim: If somebody gave me a glass of this by the pool, I would drink it, but I would not opt for this if I had the other options.

We revisited all four wines before the reveal.

While we still didn't know which wine was which, we compared them to each other, referring to them by their letter code.

Overall, our takeaway was that Summer Water was the best for casual rosé drinking, thanks to its light and berry flavor, but the taste of As Ever's wine stood out for being unexpected and refreshing.

Miraval sat in the middle of the pack, while Whispering Angel was too alcohol-forward for McKenzie and Ahlgrim.

After the big reveal, we loved that As Ever wasn't what we expected from Meghan.

When we finally found out which wine was which, we were all surprised that "wine B" was As Ever.

Ahlgrim: Oh, that's the one that doesn't taste like rosé! It's weird, and I like that.

McKenzie: It was my number two favorite!

Ahlgrim: As Ever was my top in terms of what I like in a wine. I like a weirder flavor, but I think Summer Water is more rosé-y. But if I saw As Ever at the store, I would buy it again.

Pettyjohn: Me too. I would buy this again, and I think it would be nice if you paired it with fruit or cheese — that vibe. If you brought this to a party, your friends would be like, "Oh, the rosé you brought is so good. Where did you get it?"

Rollins: I would be curious to drink it in a cup, like in one of the "Love Is Blind" cups, where you can't see what color it is, and just be like, "What does that taste like to you?"

Ahlgrim: I admire that Meghan didn't take the easiest route. So many celebrities have an alcohol brand, so I think it was bold of her to do something that does not taste like every other rosé on the market.

Pettyjohn: If I put my Meghan Scholar hat on, I also feel this reflects her as a flavor. You think you're going to get one thing, but then she surprises you, and it's a really lovely flavor, even if it's not necessarily what you were expecting.

McKenzie: It's something that I would order again.

Pettyjohn: Me too.

McKenzie: Her rosé beats Brad Pitt's.

Ahlgrim: 100%.

We took a closer look at the As Ever bottle after the taste test.

Once we knew which wine it was, we checked out the As Ever bottle. Its 14.5% alcohol content — the highest of the four — surprised us, particularly because it didn't taste too alcohol-forward. We also liked that the wine seemed versatile.

Ahlgrim: It is the best bang for your buck if you're looking for the highest alcohol content.

McKenzie: 14.5% is pretty high.

Ahlgrim: That surprises me because because of how alcohol-forward I felt like the Whispering Angel was. I expected that to be the highest.

Pettyjohn: I like to make a rosé sangria, and I think As Ever would be good with that.

Ahlgrim: Ooh, with a bit of prosecco or seltzer in it? Yeah, because the flavor is so strong, it would lend itself well to a mix.

Pettyjohn: Yes, exactly.

Ahlgrim: It's not a poolside rosé. It's like a charcuterie rosé.

Pettyjohn: I can see Meghan on her patio, talking to one of her friends, and drinking it.

Three out of the four of us could see ourselves buying As Ever.

Ahlgrim, McKenzie, and I said we would buy As Ever down the line, though we want people to know they shouldn't expect a classic rosé flavor. Rollins had reservations, especially because the bottles are only available in three, six, or 12 packs.

Rollins: As Ever was interesting, but I definitely wouldn't order three bottles because of the price and strong flavor. You really have to love the flavor.

Pettyjohn: I would buy it! When I went to Sonoma, one winery had a rosé you could try, and it was very similar to this. It didn't taste how you expected a rosé to taste, but it was good.

McKenzie: It's a good wine. I would order it again. It was my top two. It tastes like a chardonnay, and I don't mind that.

Ahlgrim: The Summer Water would be what I would drink on a Saturday during the day in the summer. Then I would switch to Meghan's at night.

Pettyjohn: I couldn't have said it better myself.

I tried As Ever's rosé at home and loved it even more.

A few days after the official taste test, I revisited As Ever rosé, pouring a glass for myself and my husband.

I gave it a sniff, inhaling that full-bodied, almost orange wine-like scent that surprised me during the test. It was inviting and bright, and as I took a sip, I was delighted that As Ever tasted even more refreshing and crisp than I remembered. My husband was a fan, too, and I had to remind myself not to drink it too quickly over dinner.

Meghan's rosé is a hit in my book, and I'm intrigued to see how her foray into the wine industry continues. Cheers!