Sadiq Khan's Culture Team has blocked Charlotte Gill on X after she flagged their bonkers £500,000 woke grants – funding queer birding, doll workshops and a solarpunk festival. Your money at work.
The post Why Was I Blocked on X by the Mayor of London’s Culture Team? appeared first on The Daily Sceptic.
Torani
This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Melanie Dulbecco, the CEO of syrup brand Torani. She's based in San Leandro, California, where the company is headquartered. This story has been edited for length and clarity.
I may sound different than most CEOs.
I grew up in a blue-collar neighborhood, and my parents divorced when I was really young. When I was little, I saw my mom struggle so much, and I noticed that some kids around me didn't have the same opportunities.
I felt this sense of inequity, and that became a motivating and driving force for me. I tried working in politics, then nonprofits, and eventually went into business. I wanted to build an opportunity company. When I met the family from Torani, they liked that idea.
I was the ninth hire at Torani in 1991 and became the first CEO in 1995. We now have over 500 employees.
When I started, we made $700,000 a year in annual revenue. We've grown 20% a year on average, and this year, we plan to hit over $800 million in revenue.
But to us, growth is not a financial endeavor. The trailing indicator of success may be the financials, but we think our work together creates the momentum and value in the marketplace that drives our growth.
It's very easy for us to say layoffs are not our approach. I think layoffs are a choice. I get it if a company is going through bankruptcy and has to make extremely challenging choices. Otherwise, I think it's a financial exercise that doesn't consider how you're going to be resilient or regain momentum — because you do that with a team.
Torani is currently hiring fewer people than it would be if the company didn't use automation. We use automation to deprioritize manual, rote jobs with limited career mobility. We also use AI for consumer and market research, sales forecasting, and demand planning.
However, our team doesn't get worried about things like AI because they trust that we will both automate and elevate the work, that we will never do anything that squashes opportunities for people, and that we are looking out for everybody's success.
We're often in hyper-growth mode, which means we need people to know how to work together. The ability to work together, to collaborate, to address challenges, to be resilient in tough times, is critical. This strategy has also helped with retention.
We had been planning a move to our new location in San Leandro in March 2020. That happened to coincide with the stay-at-home order. It was one of those moments where, as a leader, you feel like you have to breathe into a paper bag.
We had borrowed a lot of money from the bank to build our new flavor factory. The loans were going to start coming due in April, so the executive team came together to look at what we needed to do to be OK.
Before we did that, though, we asked: What will make us proud when we get to the other side of this? We had a long discussion about it and decided that making it as one team — without any layoffs or furloughs — would make us proud.
So we we scaled back marketing and advertising expenses and paused all company travel. All departments had to review their budgets. They got scrappy to identify and eliminate non-essential costs.
During the early months of the pandemic, Torani prepared for a 50% decline in sales. Thankfully, there was only a 20% decline in April of 2020, and revenue was back up in May. We quickly pivoted to online retail and grocery to fill the gaps left by cafés and drink shops closing their doors. Torani ended 2020 with a 15% year-over-year revenue increase.
We moved to our new location in six months instead of six weeks, but we got there. We couldn't have done that if we laid off our team. We needed to come together at that moment.
@nycmayor
Zohran Mamdani has places to be.
At 35, the mayor of New York City knows how to catch — and keep — people's attention. It's tempting to think the key to Mamdani's success is Instagram, but the secret sauce of his leadership isn't just a social media machine. It's a man criss-crossing the five boroughs with a portable podium and the occasional sugar-free Red Bull.
To better understand how his in-person ubiquity shapes public perception, Business Insider spent the summer tracking the mayor's daily schedule. From May 1 to August 31, Mamdani had 249 listed appointments, 170 of which were held in public. Eighty-one of these were in community spaces such as classrooms, libraries, parks, apartment buildings, tennis courts, places of worship, and restaurants.
Another 50 were government events at emergency preparedness centers and police precincts. With the exception of Staten Island — which Mamdani visited three times — his appearances dotted the city. He spent the most time in Manhattan with 85 events, followed by Brooklyn (35), the Bronx (26), and Queens (21). He made few appearances in City Council chambers and other traditional political arenas. At the mayor's home, Gracie Mansion, there were no press conferences. Instead, Mamdani hosted 10 cultural receptions, pickup soccer games, and religious celebrations.
At a time when C-suite bigwigs are delivering bad news via canned memo, and politicians are mediating their message through glossy election mailers, dozens of political analysts, media strategists, historians, and people in the mayor's orbit say that Mamdani's man-about-town style stands out.
What makes Mamdani a lesson in charisma is his ability to combine four important factors: physical presence, personal authenticity, political messaging, and active participation, a review of his nearly first year shows.
He's able to be in on the joke — poking fun at his omnipresent suit by jumping into a pool, tie and all — while still getting his message across. They're a regular part of his schedule, rather than a surprise one-off that feels like it was cooked up by a communications staffer. It's not an easy balance to strike, but the mayor's in-person events lay out a road map for other leaders.
Showing up doesn't solve all problems, and nine months into his tenure, the mayor has met his fair share of critics. Glad-handing with a few CEOs and small business owners doesn't replace the need to attract investment from blue-chip companies and buzzy startups. Despite his push for affordability, he has yet to substantially lower residents' household bills.
But his supporters and critics agree that the mayor has a natural talent for connection, turning mundane events into meaningful moments with constituents. He fuses human connection and mass media to turn heads in the cutthroat attention economy. Whether it's cheering on the Knicks in the nosebleeds of Madison Square Garden or ordering an egg and cheese with jalapeño at a Queens bodega, Mamdani knows how to see and be seen.
Between a crammed row of treadmills and elliptical machines, Mamdani straightened his blazer and stepped up to the microphone. The East Village recreation center smelled like sweat, dust, and takeout coffee. Events like this one in early July, which touted new rules to make it easier for people to cancel subscriptions, are a signature way to promote his agenda. As the images circulated online, New Yorkers could imagine Mamdani on the rowing machine next to them, complaining about how hard it was to get out of a pesky membership.
All mayors go to ribbon-cutting ceremonies and attend parades. Mamdani's retail politics events also include everyday New Yorkers in everyday settings. He gave only a few keynote speeches this summer, but he found time to visit three senior centers, seven schools, and a soccer watch party at Rikers Island. A sentiment expressed by dozens of residents is that, regardless of their personal politics, they respect Mamdani for coming to their neighborhoods. One Central Park halal vendor says he feels like the mayor understands how pricey food can be these days. A Staten Islander who has met Mamdani — and filmed a video with him — was shocked that he could rattle off deep-cut Sri Lankan cricket trivia.
Debbie Saslaw runs the video production company Melted Solids alongside Anthony DiMieri. The pair are the brains — and lenses — behind some of Mamdani's viral videos. While much has been said about the mayor's knack for social media, Saslaw says his penchant for physical presence is crucial to making his short-form videos effective. Saslaw recalls a day early in the mayoral campaign when they visited a park to chat with picnickers. She figured no one would want to speak with an underdog candidate on what turned out to be a very rainy afternoon.
"People were honking out from their cars, and one guy waved from his apartment window," she tells me. "People were stopping their bikes — there was a bike pileup."
Moments like that become social media content: More than 80 in-person events this summer earned posts on the NYCMayor Instagram — largely photos and videos of Mamdani with regular people. Only a handful of posts were policy announcement graphics or highly produced mini-documentaries.
Some critics say the energy the mayor puts into engagement is a distracting gimmick that diverts attention from controversial policies or a lack of meaningful accomplishments. With hundreds of events over the summer, Mamdani's time to negotiate and pass policies within City Hall is limited. At least on the books, his schedule shows he met with local political leaders a handful of times between May and August. On the other hand, for all but 25 of 122 days, he attended at least one public event.
The city's business leaders, in particular, say Mamdani hasn't spent enough time learning from corporate advisors, economists, or local shop owners. Of Mamdani's 249 listed events, six were with CEOs or Wall Street execs, and only a few were with small business owners. By comparison, he met childcare and day care workers more than a dozen times. While former communications leaders for Bill de Blasio and Eric Adams say past mayors have also limited their time in boardrooms and offices ("their job is to be out there," one tells me), some small-business owners feel they're getting short shrift from Mamdani as well. A vendor near one of his planned city-owned grocery stores says she feels left out of the conversation, "You're going to spend all this money on building this new infrastructure, and the basic things that we have been asking for don't get done."
Those less convinced by Mamdani's tactics say the resources the Mayor's Office pours into communications are a smokescreen. Mark Jaffe, a founder of NYC's Multicultural Business Coalition who is suing the administration over its city-run grocery store initiative, says that while Mamdani "gets people's attention," the substance is coming up short.
"He knows the issues," Jaffe says. "He just doesn't come up with good plans that can actually solve them through jobs and capitalism."
Mamdani's propensity for kissing babies and waltzing into bars has both practical and historical grounding. As people spend more of their lives conversing with AI customer service bots, half-engaged with corporate Zoom meetings, and watching political attack ads between TV episodes, they're starving for more intimate, authentic connections. When C-suite leaders and politicians try to connect with people, it can yield limited success. Whether it's a fast-food CEO taking tiny bites out of a burger and calling it a "product," tech execs looking unconvincing as they sip beer, or politicians filming stilted selfie videos, attempts to add a personal touch through a mediated platform can leave people cold.
"We are, at our core, social creatures who need to connect, and we did not evolve to connect only digitally," Amy Edmondson, a professor of leadership and management at Harvard Business School, tells me.
Mamdani is trying to resurrect a bygone era for New York City politicians — with his own new-school sheen. Mayoral calendars aren't publicly posted, and changes in record keeping, news coverage, and technology make comparisons imperfect. But historians and communications directors under previous administrations say that recent mayors struggled with the perception of being distant from their constituents.
A longtime New Jersey homeowner, Eric Adams drew criticism for his international travel and trips to exclusive nightclubs. Michael Bloomberg's billionaire status made him less relatable to regular people, NYC historian Kevin Draper tells me, even when he made an effort to meet residents around town. Bill de Blasio had a Mamdani-esque focus on affordability but, based on his dismal approval ratings throughout his mayoralty, failed to connect on a personal level. Former communications directors for de Blasio and Adams say they both had their go-to outer-borough neighborhoods, but neither had Mamdani's widespread reach.
Timing was a factor: Those two leaders tended to work later into the night, whereas the current mayor makes stops around the city much earlier. Draper says youth is also a leg up that Mamdani has over his predecessors. My analysis shows that Mamdani attended at least one event on 97 of his 122 days this summer, averaging more than two per day, and a third of these were out in the community. On busy days, he made up to seven stops.
"He has had a longer honeymoon than any other mayor," José Bayona, who worked under the Adams and de Blasio administrations, says with a laugh. "I can tell you that."
Mamdani has said he emulates Depression-era Mayor Fiorello La Guardia, who launched an early version of city-owned stores and primarily focused messaging toward the working class with his "Talk with the People" radio program. He also evokes Ed Koch, the relatively moderate mayor who dominated the 1980s, who was known for strolling the streets and riding the train, asking residents, "How'm I doin'?" The style's lineage stretches back to the 19th century, when candidates and elected officials would drum up support by giving speeches and meeting the public in their saloons and town squares. Members of Tammany Hall, a highly corrupt but popular New York City political machine, focused on in-person interactions with the working class.
There are, of course, challenges to the mayor's attempts at everyman charisma. On a practical level, it's much harder for Mamdani to show up at a sports bar these days without serious planning and a security detail. And even with sharp messaging and the reputation for popping up in unexpected places, the complexities of policy rollout and city politics have slowed his attempts to transform New York.
Mamdani is early enough in his term that he can get away with having big plans that haven't been realized, riding high on a banner sports summer and pothole politics. But as he approaches his second year in office, his constant presence outside City Hall and prolific digital footprint could become more of a liability than an asset. As Edmondson puts it: "There's always a risk of disappointment when people believe that, in your back pocket, you have a magic wand."
Interactive graphic by Randy Yeip.
Courtesy of Shea Karssing.
"What a night!" "I barely slept." "I don't even know what time I went to bed."
The same statements can have very different meanings in different stages of life. My friends and I used to worry about where everyone was at 2 a.m. Now, we worry about whether everyone's baby has pooped that day.
Laura-Kate (Lauks), Kirsten (Kirst), and I met 25 years ago at an all-girls boarding school in South Africa, then partied our way through university and early adulthood. For years, our biggest problems were nursing sore heads with painkillers and junk food, who was dating whom, where we were going that weekend, and whether anyone had taken a particularly unflattering photo.
Then, the three of us had babies all within three weeks of one another, reaffirming our bond and allowing us to evolve together in new and exciting ways I never imagined.
Courtesy of Shea Karssing.
Lauks got pregnant unexpectedly, bravely navigating the challenges of being a semi-single mom with a husband who works abroad for up to three months at a time. In the same period, Kirst and her American husband settled in the US, and I was undergoing IVF treatment. We all had our own challenges.
Fast forward a bit, and Lauks told us she was expecting another unplanned surprise. It was a contrast to my own fertility journey, which had been a roller coaster of disappointments, including a failed embryo transfer. I was about to undergo a second transfer when she gave us the news over group text.
Lauks lives in a town about an hour from me. It happens to be on the way to my fertility doctor. On one drive home, soon after sharing her good news, I stopped to see Lauks to congratulate her. I was also six weeks pregnant at the time. I remember sitting there in the cafe trying to get the words out: "I'm pregnant." Cue the ugly crying.
Of course, my next phone call was to Kirst in the US. Little did I know that she had some news she was itching to tell me too. All three of us were pregnant at the same time.
After comparing and complaining about our pregnancy symptoms for months, one baby arrived, then another, then another.
We all arrived at motherhood differently, but we each welcomed a baby girl into the world within three weeks across three different cities (and two continents), and our friendship acquired an entirely new vocabulary.
We had once bonded over crushes, kisses, and hangovers. Now, we talked about latching, snot-sucking, and the intricate details of every strange rash. The conversations may have been less titillating, but somehow, they were even more intimate.
Our WhatsApp group became a kind of 24-hour maternal helpline. "Does this look normal?" Reply at 3 am: "Yes, unfortunately." We sent memes when we were too exhausted to form sentences. We celebrated first smiles and first rolls. We talked about periods, pimples, sex, husbands, and everything else that apparently becomes acceptable conversation once you've been friends for 25 years.
Earlier this year, Kirsten let us know that baby number two was on the way. This time, it was me bubbling over inside, dying to tell them that I had gotten pregnant naturally. In August, Kirst gave birth to a baby boy, and my baby girl arrived in September.
Although we haven't been in the same room since Kirst moved to the US three years ago, we remain as close as ever, if not closer. My girls are my cheerleaders, doulas, online health advisors, and a massive reason why I've stayed sane (enough) as a mother. They've shown me the power of long-term friendship and the ways women can lift each other up.
Courtesy of Shea Karssing.
I can't help but imagine what another 25 years will do to our friendship. We'll be in our 60s, and the kids will (hopefully) be fending for themselves out in the world.
Along with the gray hairs and wrinkles, our priorities will have probably changed once again. After the first 25 years, I've learned that the best friendships don't stay the same, they grow with you. So I know my besties will still be there for me, just with entirely new things to commiserate over, cry over, and kill ourselves laughing about.
School looking to sell piece of open land beloved by people in Devon town to fund refurbishments
On Saturdays throughout autumn, residents of Totnes have met at a field on the banks of the River Dart to play ballgames, fly kites or simply sit on the grass and chat.
But it hasn’t just been about having fun – this has been a “play protest” aimed at trying to save a beloved piece of open land in the historic Devon market town.
Continue reading...
© Photograph: Jim Wileman/The Guardian
© Photograph: Jim Wileman/The Guardian
© Photograph: Jim Wileman/The Guardian
We went aboard a cruise ship navigating some of the world's most dangerous waters. In the Arctic, drifting icebergs, sea ice, sudden storms and fierce winds make sailing unpredictable. Yet every year, around 100,000 cruise passengers travel to Greenland to explore its remote coastline and experience one of the world's last great wildernesses.
Eric Ogden
Most chiefs of staff don't stick around for very long. Covista CEO Steve Beard sees that as a feature, not a bug.
Since taking the helm at the healthcare education giant five years ago, Beard has appointed four chiefs of staff, with a few months of overlap between hires to preserve continuity. He treats the role as a leadership rotation rather than a permanent job, bringing in people with backgrounds that match his evolving needs.
His first chief of staff specialized in finance, the second in strategy, the third in technology, and the fourth, who started recently, in management consulting.
"Each of my chiefs of staff has looked different because I've been in a different place in my own journey at the time that they've come on board," Beard told Business Insider. "It really is defined by the leader and the moment."
The median tenure for chiefs of staff is 2.3 years, a length that reflects both the job's intensity and its potential as a springboard to more senior positions, according to a 2024 report from McKinsey.
That is also roughly the amount of time Beard said he considers appropriate for the job — and long enough for those in it to advance their careers afterward. His first chief of staff moved into a CFO role at one of Covista's universities, and the second became a vice president overseeing the company's business-to-business operations and clinical partnerships. The third is preparing to become a vice president of enterprise pricing.
"It takes about one year to really get in a groove," said Beard. "By the time you're approaching three years, that's a pretty grueling pace."
The demands of the job help explain why. Beard oversees five educational institutions that train students for careers in healthcare. Most weekdays, he said he's at his desk around 7 a.m. and leaves after 6 p.m. His chief of staff works closely with him throughout, starting with a 15-minute meeting to review priorities and prepare for what's ahead. They stay in close contact when apart and occasionally travel together.
Beard said a key part of the job for his chiefs of staff is to give him honest feedback about how he interacts with his executive team, clients, investors, and others. He recalled how his first chief of staff told him he was talking too much in leadership meetings. He began holding back, allowing others to share their views before weighing in.
"I found that I actually learned more by listening to the conversation amongst the team," said Beard.
When he's ready to bring on a new chief of staff, Beard said he taps a variety of channels to identify potential candidates, including his own network, traditional search, and Covista's existing employee base. Of the four he's hired, two came from within the company.
Beard said he looks for people who can influence without relying on authority, build strong relationships, bring a fresh perspective, and move comfortably between strategy and execution.
Once on board, Beard said he asks his new right-hand advisors to take a fresh look at his routine and suggest modifications or improvements. One reorganized his executive team's meeting cadence, another introduced AI into office workflows, and his newest chief of staff is leading a five-year retrospective on his tenure to help shape the company's next chapter.
Beard's revolving-door strategy isn't without drawbacks. He said replacing a chief of staff means giving up someone who is performing at the peak of their abilities and starting over with someone who needs time to build the same rapport and shorthand.
"You do have to slow down to speed up a bit," he said.
Bloomberg/Getty Images
Nvidia's communications organization has been reshaped as the company became the face of the AI boom, with multiple teams brought under new leadership and a string of departures.
Business Insider identified roughly 15 communications employees who have left Nvidia since 2025, based on LinkedIn profiles and interviews with former employees.
The organization now numbers roughly 70 to 80 people globally, and has more than doubled in size since Mylene Mangalindan joined as vice president of corporate communications in 2023, according to a person close to the company.
The departures have also included newer hires. Anna Soellner, who was recruited to lead corporate communications, left after roughly four months, Business Insider previously reported.
Nvidia is known for high retention. It reported companywide turnover of 3.7% in fiscal 2026, up from 2.5% the prior year, and well below the tech industry average of 21.9% cited in its latest sustainability report.
Mangalindan succeeded longtime communications chief Bob Sherbin, who retired in 2024. She previously worked at the advisory firm Brunswick Group.
She was brought in to "bring fresh blood" and "upgrade the team" to meet Nvidia's growing profile, one former employee said.
At the end of 2024, Nvidia restructured its communications organization. It brought enterprise public relations under Mangalindan's leadership alongside the corporate communications team she already led, according to two former employees.
Corporate communications focuses on Nvidia's reputation and major media outlets, while enterprise handles product and industry messaging, including for its data center business.
One former employee said the consolidation reflected the growing importance of Nvidia's data center business, which sells chips and systems that power AI and had become its biggest revenue driver.
Analyst relations, social media, and influencer marketing also moved under Mangalindan's remit this year, another former employee said.
Three former employees said Nvidia's communications team had long operated with relatively lean staffing, even as workloads grew alongside the company's public profile, leaving staff juggling multiple responsibilities.
These employees said they experienced long hours, difficulty taking time off, and pressure to respond quickly to emails and Slack messages.
A person close to Nvidia said the company's lean staffing allows employees to move quickly and also requires long hours. The person said Mangalindan encourages staff to take vacation, though the team's small size can make scheduling time off difficult, particularly in the summer.
Nvidia is widely known for its demanding work environment. CEO Jensen Huang has emphasized operating at the "speed of light" and is known for fostering a culture of constant accountability.
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Courtesy of the author
When I told my best friend I was quitting my Wall Street legal career to spend a year camping and exploring the American West, she looked at me aghast and said, "You're joking, right?"
Her response wasn't surprising. I hadn't exactly been honest with her, or myself, about how much I longed for a very different life than the one I was living.
At the time, we were 34 years old, and during the prior 16 years of friendship, our lives had run parallel tracks, studying business in college, then pursuing demanding careers in East Coast cities. While we'd seen each other through heartbreaks and upheavals, this was more than that. This was a significant detour, and as she looked at me, her face flush with confusion, I wasn't sure the detour was something our friendship would survive.
Erin and I met freshman year in college as scholarship runners on a highly competitive Division I Track Team. While our four years there weren't exactly conducive to honesty or vulnerability, it bonded us in a deep way.
After graduation, we shifted our attention and drive toward corporate careers, supporting each other in these often-stressful pursuits. With our finances closely aligned, we traveled, dined, and indulged at the spa together. More than that, during those years, Erin became my anchor. She's the one I called in the middle of the night when the man I thought I was going to marry walked out, and the one who made me laugh harder than anyone else, especially amid life's disappointments.
Courtesy of the author
Yet, by our early 30s, we'd only ever let ourselves be so vulnerable with each other. While I often shared my frustrations with the strain of my career, I never talked about alternatives, especially one as drastic as quitting to camp and live out of a used car.
When I decided to quit and plunge toward a very different life, Erin wasn't the only person who questioned this choice, but she was the most important. Plus, now living off my savings, I could no longer afford many activities at the center of our friendship.
When Erin came to help pack up my apartment, she continued to express skepticism about my plan to live for a while without a plan. Thinking about the infinity symbol when we said goodbye, I wasn't sure we'd ever meet back at the center.
During the early days of my trip, Erin began asking for updates on how it was going, and I began sharing details. The first night I camped alone, I sent her a photo of my tent overlooking the Colorado River and confessed how scared I was, because despite my plans to spend a year camping, I'd never actually camped by myself before that night. She responded with the same enthusiasm and encouragement that had buoyed me for years.
Courtesy of the author
These conversations continued over the months that followed. When poor planning on a trail run landed me in a stranger's car for the night, she was the one I called to recount the tale and laugh over my mistakes. And on her birthday, I sent her a celebratory photograph from a 14,000-foot peak. It wasn't that she still had questions about what, exactly, I was doing with my life; it was that, at some point, she let go of her hesitations and began trying to understand my motivations.
This culminated with her request to join me for a backpacking trip — something she'd never done. We spent two nights in Arizona's Superstition Mountains, where my ease in the wilderness clashed with her tentativeness. And though we had fun, when she questioned whether I understood how to read a map as we searched for a water source, I was sure I'd never do something like that with her again.
Of course, I did, many times over, because through the friction, this truth surfaced: We'd always been very different people, and now, we were just living in those differences. The challenge of that, and her willingness to embrace it, brought us closer than ever.
Over the years, as I became more honest about who I was, she, too, became more honest about who she was. A decade later, our lives still look very different, and still, Erin is my anchor.
As a free speech absolutist, Elon Musk is making a mistake going after Nitter, says Dr R P. He should instead be praising the site that helps users speak freely, uninhibited by login screens that undermine their privacy.
The post Musk’s Perplexing Battle With Nitter and the Problem With Locking the Internet Behind Login Screens appeared first on The Daily Sceptic.
Bruno Bianchini
This as-told-to essay is based on an interview with Bruno Bianchini, the 40-year-old former Head of Global Partnerships for the Middle East, Africa, and Turkey for Google, who is based in the Netherlands. It has been edited for length and clarity.
Growing up in the Italian countryside, sustainability was simply part of everyday life. At 18, I left my small village near Milan to study at Bocconi University in Milan.
In 2005, I started my degree in accounting, corporate finance, and law. Then I did a master's in business administration. When I was about to graduate, a friend at the university said a group of professors had opened a boutique consulting firm. I interviewed for the role and landed it.
That path led me first to consulting and then to Google, where I spent more than 13 years before leaving to pursue work in sustainability.
At 25, I was working on three projects — a hotel, a food company, and a company that made pressure gauges. My experience was very much about seeing problems through an analytical lens.
In 2012, I was invited to a friend's birthday dinner, where I was seated opposite a guy working at Google. Although Google was already a huge company, I had little sense of its scale. I thought of it mainly as a search engine.
I remember wearing a jacket and tie, and I thought, I can't show up at Google like this; they're never going to hire me. I roughed up my hair, removed my jacket and my tie, and went to the interview.
I had three interviews at Google on the same day. One interviewer asked me about role-related knowledge, the next about more general knowledge, and the third was Googleyness — whether I was a culture fit. I remember thinking in the interview that I wanted to work with these people.
About a week later, I had a fourth interview. The process moved quickly because it was for a temp job. In July 2012, I joined Google.
I remember there was a game area. In consulting, I'd start work at 8:30 a.m. and leave at 10:30 p.m. every day. At Google, people were coming and going whenever they wanted. The culture was a huge change for me. It was fantastic.
A year later, I applied for a full-time role working with DoubleClick for Publishers, now part of Google Ad Manager. I did lots of prep for the interview, and I got the job.
After the presentation, a guy who became my new boss asked if I'd consider moving to Dubai because they were expanding the team. Two months later, they opened the role; I applied, got the job, and moved to Dubai.
That same year, I got to see the San Francisco campus for the first time. When I saw the scale of the buildings, the number of meeting rooms, micro kitchens, and the bicycles employees rode around campus, I was mesmerized. Working for one of the most innovative companies on the planet, I felt like I was always at the forefront of tech innovation. I definitely got a kick out of that.
As I was managing a large region, there was a lot of travel.
On office days, I generally worked 9-to-5, depending on projects and deadlines. I might have calls with people in the US, but travel was more hectic. From the moment I arrived, I was having breakfast with colleagues, attending an event, or meeting with clients.
I'd been thinking about sustainability for some time. When I was in Milan, I met someone from LA who told me they were vegan. They told me about the damage the dairy and meat industries are causing to the planet. I started reading more, and I went down the rabbit hole. I remember feeling that I wanted to be part of the movement for the solution.
While still at Google, I looked into which universities offered degrees in sustainability and came across a program at Harvard.
I pursued my master's degree in sustainable studies at Harvard online while working at Google. The last part of my studies involved a thesis. I took a sabbatical from Google and traveled to Cambodia to work on an ambitious project that plans to reforest 100,000 hectares of flooded forest. I worked on the feasibility study.
Google was kind enough to say, "Go pursue your dreams, and if something doesn't work, you're welcome to come back." Eventually, I decided it was time. After four months in Cambodia, I felt the umbilical cord was stretched enough. When I returned from my sabbatical, I handed in my notice.
I feel now that I have a big purpose in my heart, confidence in the abilities Harvard gave me, and, at the same time, I feel financially secure. I could leave a high-paying role where I was making more than $300,000 in annual total compensation for the unknown.
I'm now working as an independent consultant for this project in Cambodia.
Google nurtured me in so many ways, but as I was learning more about sustainability, my value system was changing. I was encouraging people to sell more stuff, and on my dark days, I remember thinking that staying at home on the couch was better for the environment.
I want to capitalize on my background in business and finance. I'm currently working on publishing a research paper about the project in Cambodia. I'm doing this long-distance while we're securing funds for the pilot. This month, I moved to the Netherlands, as it is one of the best places for green finance.
For many Americans overseas, the scariest day this month is not Halloween, but October 15—the final extended deadline for filing income tax returns with the Internal Revenue Service (IRS).
An estimated 3.3 million U.S. citizens live abroad, although the number is likely an undercount because the government doesn't keep a comprehensive list or require Americans overseas to register their residence. Still, American citizens and resident aliens living abroad must pay U.S. income taxes and comply with domestic tax filing requirements, regardless of where they live or work. They must also complete the dizzying process of reporting any foreign bank accounts, assets, and financial interests in foreign institutions.
When filing their income tax returns, most Americans living abroad have zero tax liability. In its 2025 Annual Report to Congress, the Taxpayer Advocate Service—an independent organization within the IRS that helps people navigate tax problems—found that for Americans overseas, "the percent of individual international tax returns reporting no tax liability is significantly higher than domestic taxpayers." Yet, the agency reports that the filing process is "complex, overlapping, and punitive." The report says failure to comply results in "harsh and disproportionate penalties…even when taxpayers make good-faith mistakes or owe no U.S. tax."
The U.S. income tax rate is low compared to other high-income countries, so Americans living overseas typically pay more in local taxes than they would here. Still, Brandon Mitchener, executive director at Tax Fairness for Americans Abroad, tells Reason that Americans living outside the U.S. are often oblivious to their income tax obligations, assuming they're exempt because they already pay taxes in their country of residence. He says that complex U.S. tax laws and financial regulations force many Americans living overseas to request an extension to October 15.
The date also coincides with the final deadline for the Foreign Account Tax Compliance Act (FATCA) and the Report of Foreign Bank and Financial Accounts (FBAR)—regulations that require Americans with foreign financial assets above a certain threshold to declare the value of their assets to the IRS or Treasury Department.
Under FATCA, Americans living overseas with foreign financial assets exceeding $200,000 at year-end or more than $300,000 at any point during the year must declare their assets when filing their income tax return. The law also requires foreign financial institutions to report information about U.S. account holders directly to the IRS. Originally enacted to catch Americans overseas engaged in tax evasion or other criminal financial activity, it has instead made American citizenship an impediment for expatriates looking to save or invest money outside the U.S.
"Because of FATCA, many foreign financial institutions shun American clients," Mitchener says. This includes Trade Republic, a German digital bank and online brokerage firm that doesn't accept U.S. citizens living abroad, a category of people it tellingly describes as "FATCA customers."
"Some charge a premium for banking-while-American," he adds, while some have "even de-banked American clients." The latter is a very real concern for Madison Berry, an American living in the Netherlands. She tells Reason she's "a little bit worried" that her European bank will one day "come back and be like, 'Oh, you're a U.S. citizen. We're gonna close your account.'"
This "reduces choice and raises the cost and complexity of everyday financial products for Americans abroad, from basic savings accounts to mortgages and retirement savings," Mitchener says, creating problems unique to America and Eritrea, the only two countries that tax citizens living outside their borders.
Compounding matters, Americans with foreign financial accounts exceeding $10,000 must file an FBAR with the Treasury Department's Financial Crimes Enforcement Network, even though the form duplicates much of the same information already reported through FATCA. The reporting requirements make investing or saving money abroad prohibitive for Americans and foreign financial institutions, with foreign banks opting to close existing accounts or outright denying Americans the opportunity to open a bank account, according to a 2019 report by the Government Accountability Office. Seven years later, little has changed. The IRS itself admits that its systems and functions are "inaccessible to or incompatible with the needs of taxpayers living abroad, creating unnecessary barriers to compliance."
Berry says figuring out her tax obligations and reporting requirements has left her "in a financial limbo." "I seriously considered renouncing my U.S. citizenship as part of the process just to make life easier." She's not alone.
Several Americans living overseas who spoke to Reason on condition of anonymity said they were also considering renouncing their U.S. citizenship rather than deal with the onerous annual tax filing process. One American living in Ireland who owns and operates a U.S.-based business says she uses a remote desktop and virtual private network to access her financial institutions to avoid scrutiny.
Another tells Reason she's considering renouncing her citizenship because America's tax system is "predatory in how complicated it is and how much responsibility it puts on ordinary people to figure everything out themselves."
The post Why Some Americans Living Abroad Would Rather Renounce Their Citizenship Than File Taxes appeared first on Reason Magazine.
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