Tasos Katopodis/Getty Images for Semafor World Economy
Corporate leaders tend to be enthusiastic about AI's potential — and increasingly concerned about the cybersecurity challenges the technology brings.
Tim Walsh, CEO and chair of KPMG US, said the worries come up in nearly every meeting he has with fellow leaders, as AI gives bad actors new ways to try to breach corporate defenses.
"The cyber risks have just elevated to places that we've never seen them before," he told Business Insider.
Walsh pointed to the Hugging Face incident this past summer, in which OpenAI said an AI agent bypassed controls during an internal cybersecurity evaluation and accessed parts of the open-source AI platform's systems.
There isn't currently a defensive wall, he said, that's capable of rebuffing every cyber threat. He said KPMG is working with the frontier AI model developers and others on further protections.
The goal is to help the Big Four firm protect its business, and its clients' businesses, Walsh said, adding that he sees it as a potential opportunity worth more than $1 billion.
Unease about AI and cyber threats showed up in a recent KPMG US survey of 400 CEOs at major US companies. While leaders reported confidence in AI's potential, cybersecurity was the concern they identified most often.
Eighty-five percent said cybercrime and "cyber insecurity" could affect their company's prosperity over the next three years — more than said the same about inflation, geopolitical tensions, the pace of technological change, or other risks.
Cybersecurity was also the most commonly cited challenge to implementing AI. It topped ethical questions, data readiness, cost management, and translating AI spending into measurable returns.
Leaders said they were particularly concerned about identity theft and data privacy, vulnerability to cyberattacks, and fraud detection and prevention. Nearly half said they planned to increase cybersecurity investment over the next three years, citing threats including AI-powered social engineering, AI-assisted phishing or malware, and data and privacy risks tied to AI agents.
The concern is shaping the kinds of work the firm wants to do for clients.
Walsh said KPMG is building what he described as a managed cyber-defense business centered on AI, meant to serve as a "shield and defense mechanism" for companies. KPMG already has a cybersecurity business, he said, though this would be a different offering built around AI.
The company also sees a growing need to check whether the AI systems organizations deploy are doing what they are supposed to do. KPMG already helps clients assess AI-related controls and governance. Walsh said the firm is developing additional services to verify that AI agents are operating as intended and give investors and others confidence that companies can control them.
"Trust around AI is a real thing," he said.
Alex Cristi /Getty Images | Chris Williams
Practically every company is making AI tools available to their employees. As the former VP of HR at Microsoft and a leadership advisor with over 50 years of business experience, I'm amazed at how quickly this rollout has progressed.
Some people are all in, using the tools for nearly everything they do. Others have barely stuck their toes in the AI waters. I've been using a broad range of AI tools and encourage my clients to do the same.
AI isn't without controversy, and if someone is strongly against using it — for whatever reason — I'm not going to convince them otherwise.
But if you're wondering how and why you should use these tools, I'm here for you. Let's talk about three ways I advise all my executive clients to use AI effectively in the workplace.
Use AI as a way to see things you might not have seen. Ask it, "What am I missing?"
I agree with many that AI is lousy at most creative efforts. Whether written or visual, AI results can be generic, mediocre, and often embarrassing. The output usually deserves the "AI Slop" label it gets. But to dismiss it entirely misses a core value.
AI is useful with, perhaps even because of, that generic, often obvious other perspective.
It can be amazingly helpful to simply ask: what am I missing? Since AI has a tendency to agree with me, I explicitly ask for pushback: "review this and tell me what I'm missing, tell me where I'm wrong." The fact that AI is so obvious, so average, is actually a core value here. I'm often surprised at the points I missed and the viewpoints I overlooked.
Even if AI doesn't find things you missed, a contrarian angle can be very helpful to shore up your own case. You'll be able to say, "Yes, I considered those things, and here's why my take on this issue is better."
In that way, AI can also help you prepare for your discussions with colleagues. With so many letting AI draft their arguments, it's very valuable to see their perspective in advance.
So no, I don't let AI make my case, but I always look for another perspective in what I do — wherever it comes from. Having a tool that can give me that on a moment's notice is incredibly useful.
Long before AI, we all had that colleague who always told you far more than you needed to know. With some now using AI heavily, it can frankly be overwhelming.
You ask a simple question and get a blizzard of AI-generated noise in response. AI can be the worst over-explainer when simply left to run. You see the results in a seven-page response.
When I'm faced with one of these walls of text, I've learned there are really only two ways to respond. I can, and often do, ask the person to try again. What does this all really mean? Can you summarize your point in a couple of sentences? I occasionally get snarky and ask for the "non-AI slop" version.
Another way to deal with this is to ask AI to summarize it, whether AI tools or a wordy colleague wrote it. Importantly, I don't trust the AI summary to be the full explanation, but it helps me understand the key points. Which I then work to find in the original blizzard response.
Yes, this is a little circular. After all, why not just have the two AI systems have the discussion? Leave me out of it. But in a world where it seems everyone has a hard time getting to the point, any tool to cut through the noise is welcome. And AI is very good at that.
In a similar vein, one thing AI does incredibly well is organize. This kind of rote task of sorting, filtering, and filing is right in the sweet spot for most AI systems.
I'm wary of letting AI systems automate tasks like filtering or filing things without my supervision. I'd never let an AI system automatically send emails, texts, or documents without my careful review. But I often have AI systems help me sort through mountains of accumulated debris.
I recently moved to a new computer system and had AI review what I was planning to move over. I discovered decades of accumulated cruft. Simply from a comprehensive list, I found gigabytes of programs, files, and settings, 90% of which I just left behind.
So if you have 8,000 emails in your inbox, or a documents folder that has grown a second life, let an AI system take a look for you. Don't just tell it to "deal with it." Your judgment is needed.
Rather, have it give you a review of it and another perspective. And once you've reviewed it, perhaps you'll find, as I did: AI can be better at deletion than creation.
So when your company rolls out the next new AI, use those tools to your advantage. AI can help you see another perspective, find the important points in the blizzard, and cut through the mess. I've embraced AI, use it with great care, and encourage everyone to do the same.
Courtesy of Isaac Persky
When I was in college, I wanted a summer internship in New York City, specifically at one company: Tarte Cosmetics. My mom sent me a video of Tarte's founder and CEO, Maureen Kelly, calling on college students to apply to their summer internship program, and it sparked my interest.
I've been posting videos on social media in both the beauty and comedy niches for years, but I thought I'd left that behind when I started college at Chapman University to pursue a more 'serious' career. I was double majoring in economics and public relations and figured Tarte would be a fun way to spend the summer after my sophomore year before turning to a more traditional business or finance path.
I had one problem — I had no connections to Tarte, no family in the beauty industry, and no obvious way to stand out among thousands of applicants. In today's job market, especially for a sought-after position in beauty, it felt more likely I'd get struck by lightning than land an offer.
When I submitted my application in January 2024, I knew I barely had a shot.
They repeat the process with hundreds of applications, hoping to win the lottery of landing an interview and, ultimately, an offer.
I'm from Nebraska and attended school in Southern California. To be frank, going home for the summer was not an option. I didn't want to trade my glamorous coastal lifestyle for corn and county fairs. I couldn't rely on pure luck to be selected for an interview. I knew that if I could get in front of them, they would see how perfect I was for the role.
Since posting videos felt natural to me, I figured, what better way to show that I'm qualified for a marketing job at Tarte than by successfully marketing myself to Tarte. I decided to make something fun and entertaining. Inspired by the iconic Harvard admissions video from Legally Blonde, I created an "Elle Woods-style" application video.
I showed Tarte that I was passionate about working for them, willing to put myself out there, and could actually do the job that I was applying for. I admit, it felt a little ridiculous. I knew that all my friends would see it, and that there was a good chance it wouldn't work out the way I intended, but it was worth a try.
I woke up one morning in January 2024 to a notification that made me check whether I was still dreaming: a comment from Maureen Kelly on my post. It was a simple 'I 👀 u! OBSESSED,' followed by an email from Tarte's HR team saying they enjoyed my video and wanted to schedule an interview.
From there, I landed a paid internship with Tarte Cosmetics on their social media team. I moved to New York and worked at Tarte for three months. What started as a creative experiment became my entry point into the beauty industry.
The following winter, they offered me the chance to return for the summer of 2025. Despite my initial thoughts that my summer at Tarte would be a one-off adventure, I accepted their offer. It felt like I had found a career that combined my interests in comedy, public relations, and storytelling.
I expected to spend my summers doing small administrative tasks. Instead, I found myself contributing to campaigns with household-name brands and learning from the professionals who had built Tarte. I was particularly struck by Maureen Kelly, who took my ideas as seriously as she did her VPs' and shared her personal advice and can-do attitude with me regularly.
This spring, as I prepared to graduate, I received a full-time offer from Tarte without having to apply again. I officially started my full-time role with Tarte in June.
In college, much of the career advice my classmates and I were given emphasized professionalism and networking, but when employees at your favorite company are getting dozens of 'coffee chat' messages each week from people like you, that advice becomes outdated. Sometimes the best career move isn't sending another application; it's doing something creative with the skills you already have.
To be honest, it was embarrassing. Putting yourself out there always carries that risk, but sometimes that discomfort is the price of trying something others might not.
Even if it doesn't work out, don't let it reflect on you. I find it best to maintain the mentality that they would be lucky to have you, and frankly, what a disappointment it is that they didn't get you.
Most importantly, I must acknowledge that all of this advice is coming from someone who has the job and got the internship. Yes, I was strategic, and I give myself credit for that, but I was also lucky.
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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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.
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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.
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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.
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