• I'm a lawyer who decided to work in AI to try to get ahead of this technological curve.
• Over the last two years, I've struggled to keep up because AI is advancing faster than I expected.
• I feel overwhelmed and burned out by the constant conversations around AI.

For most of my career, I was a lawyer. There was something reassuring about how expertise worked in law. The longer I practiced, the more I knew.

But after years in a demanding profession, I burned out. It wasn't that I stopped enjoying law. I just needed a change.

Around two years ago, I started shifting my career toward AI because I thought it was the future. I didn't want to wake up 10 years later and realize technology had changed my profession without me.

It seemed like the smartest career move I could make. Now, I'm not so sure.

Joining the AI boom early seemed like the perfect career move

I made the transition while the AI boom was still gaining momentum. Ironically, I landed a job at a legal tech company thanks to a conversation with ChatGPT. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to combine my experience with my growing interest in tech.

My role involved testing the most advanced models, comparing their capabilities, and exploring how they could be used in legal work. I felt like I was ahead of a major change rather than trying to catch up with it.

I also became the go-to person for anything AI-related among my family and friends. People would ask me which tools to use, whether AI would replace their jobs, or what I thought about the latest developments. I enjoyed being the person who seemed to understand something that everyone was suddenly talking about.

But that feeling didn't last as long as I expected. Slowly, I began to realize that this wasn't just another new technology. It was something evolving at an almost frightening pace. And being close to it didn't necessarily mean being able to keep up with it.

What initially felt like an advantage was gradually becoming a source of pressure.

Things that took me weeks to learn or build became obsolete almost overnight

New frontier AI models and companies seemed to arrive every few weeks, each promising capabilities that the previous lacked. Just as I began understanding one model, another would appear, forcing me to reconsider everything I thought I knew about what AI could and couldn't do. There was barely enough time to breathe before "the next big thing" came.

What frustrated me most was how quickly my own work could lose its value. I spent weeks developing solutions to problems that a newer model could suddenly solve within a few minutes. Things I had carefully learned a couple of months earlier became unnecessary after a single product announcement. It was strange to put so much effort into something only to discover that the technology had already overtaken me.

And the constant learning didn't stop when I finished work. AI was everywhere. It was in the news, on social media, in conversations with friends, and in almost every discussion about the future of work. Sometimes, after spending an entire day testing models, the last thing I wanted to hear about was another breakthrough.

Yet I still felt an obligation to read about it, afraid that missing a single development could leave me even further behind. I was getting tired.

Accepting uncertainty became the only way forward

For years, I had measured my professional progress by how much I knew and how confident I felt about my abilities. AI challenged that completely. I began to question whether being good at my job meant knowing the latest developments or simply knowing how to adapt as everything changed. It was uncomfortable to accept that experience and hard work might not always provide the certainty I was used to.

I also started questioning how much of my personal time I was willing to sacrifice to stay relevant. I didn't want every conversation, evening, or weekend to become another opportunity to learn or talk about AI. I began making a conscious effort to disconnect after work, even if that meant missing an announcement or falling behind on the latest developments. For the first time, I was choosing not to know everything.

I don't regret moving into AI, but I no longer feel as certain about the decision as I once did. The technology isn't going to slow down. All I know for sure is that we are living through one of the most important inflection points in recent history, and perhaps that's what makes it all so overwhelming.

• This post originally appeared in the BI Today newsletter.
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The credibility concern

When questions began swirling about new (and now former) White House press secretary Katie Zacharia's legal credentials, a colleague asked the obvious question: Why should anyone care?

She was hired to be President Donald Trump's spokesperson, not his lawyer. Does it really matter if she overstated her qualifications?

It does.

She was let go on Friday, five days after starting the job. That's half the time Anthony Scaramucci infamously lasted as White House communications director during Trump's first term.

Zacharia was widely panned for her performance during her first (and final) press briefing on Monday, as well as for misrepresenting herself as a lawyer.

In workplaces, it turns out, bending the truth about one's background is not only problematic, but more common than you might think. And it can carry real consequences. BI's Sarah Needleman spoke with recruiters and found research suggesting that résumé inflation is very much a thing.

A recent survey found 37% of respondents had included inaccurate information on a résumé, according to Novorésumé, an online résumé-building service. Nearly 7% said they claimed a degree, certification, or credential they didn't actually have.

The trouble, of course, is that a small embellishment can raise much bigger questions.

Brian Fink, a managing partner at tech recruiting firm The ReWork Group, told Sarah he rescinded an offer to someone after a background check couldn't verify certain information on the candidate's résumé and LinkedIn profile.

"If you're willing to lie about your education," Fink said, "what else are you willing to lie about?"

Corporate America is full of cautionary tales. Over the years, executives at Samsonite, Walmart, and Yahoo, among others, misrepresented their backgrounds and ultimately lost their jobs as a result.

Credentials matter. They are a promise of basic trust. Once that trust is called into question, it's really hard to win it back.

• Peter Csathy is a studio exec, startup CEO, media and tech advisor, music dealmaker, and podcaster.
• He calls leaving a Hollywood studio job for a startup the 'stupidest' decision of his career.
• In the long run, it led him to achieve higher heights of personal and professional satisfaction.

The following is adapted from a book excerpt.

I began my career as an entertainment lawyer in a major firm. It was a lucrative, predictable professional path that likely would have generated more money over time than my far more circuitous one —studio executive, startup CEO, media/tech advisor, music dealmaker, author, podcaster — has.

But early on, I chose a different path to pursue my bigger dream of playing a part in a major Hollywood studio. And after seemingly endless rejection, and through sheer tenacity and will, I scored the lottery when I found my way "in" — jumping the industry's velvet rope and landing in the senior executive ranks at Universal Studios.

And then, just a few years later, I left. I left to enter the great unknown of entrepreneurialism — into the world of internet 1.0 in the late 1990s where dreams were big, but salaries small. Never mind that; I was going to score big and fast in my inevitable IPO.

Only I didn't, and my decision to leave Universal in favor of an overblown internet startup (a digital greeting card company, for God's sake!) became my stupidest decision in my professional career.

My wife, Luisa, was pregnant with our first child, Hunter. It's not as if we had built a substantial nest egg up to that point. And I had been making a nice salary in Hollywood, with plenty of upward room to grow. When I announced I was leaving Universal, in fact, the big boss at the time offered me an important, prestigious new job with significantly more money. But I left anyway.

And then internet 1.0 crashed and burned — and my digital greeting card company with it. All while Luisa watched and wondered, "What the hell was he thinking?"

'Young, dumb, and done'

She was absolutely right, of course. She always has the better judgment and pulse on things. And so, at the time, we both felt that I had cratered both my career and our financial security. Young, dumb, and done.

But you know what? My worst professional mistake ultimately became my biggest professional and personal break — the best thing that ever could have happened to us (although we certainly didn't see it that way at the time, and for several years thereafter).

Here's the thing. My impulsive decision to leave Hollywood led me onto a completely different, non-linear entrepreneurial path. A path that led us down to San Diego for my next gig, pioneering online music company Musicmatch (which was acquired by Yahoo!). That's where we had our second child, Luca and settled in the beautiful hamlet of Rancho Santa Fe.

I didn't play it safe, and that decision to "go for it" opened up a whole new career path for me that I couldn't see at the time, one where I could have significantly more impact and be significantly more creative. It enabled me to take more risks, pursue more dreams, and achieve higher heights of personal and professional satisfaction (even as those risks also certainly led to more heartburn).

Now, we can't even imagine a life without Luca and his big sister Hunter anywhere else. Their lives — all of our lives — have been idyllic here in Rancho Santa Fe. Could I have been equally happy in a Hollywood studio and living in LA? Maybe. But we certainly wouldn't have had the wonderful life we've had in the same way. I'm grateful for that.

Pursuing dreams — putting yourself out there — is a far riskier way to live. But it all led to the personal and professional life I'm living today. For me, the trade-off was worth it.

Not all dreams work out — and that's okay

More recently, Luisa dreamt big and leveraged her deep spirituality to build a youth empowerment and community organizing business — something she was born to do. She's a quiet force of nature; people just gravitate toward her, effortlessly. And her business was beautiful — meaningful, impactful.

But ultimately it was all-consuming and didn't give her the satisfaction she was hoping for, because not all dreams do.

But Luisa acted. She tried it. No regrets. Who knows where that experience leads her next? It certainly expanded her network of people she respects, and those new relationships can lead to other new opportunities. It also gives us more priceless time to explore this country's great open roads together in our Sprinter van — which has always been another dream of hers. The Sprinter is her happy place when she takes the dogs to the beach, opens the back doors, and takes in the sunsets over the ocean. Now she can do all of it with no regrets of wondering, "What would have happened if I tried?" "No regrets" is a great way to live, even if there's some heartache along the way.

Our two children Hunter (now 26) and Luca (24), not surprisingly, are pursuing their own dreams too — Hunter as a creative in the entertainment business, making it entirely on her own, and Luca as a filmmaker, with no roadmap of getting from point A to point B. Both have chosen what many would caution as being an alternative, or even impractical, path.

But because we're all dreamers, Luisa and I believe they will be better and more fulfilled because of it, no matter what happens. It will add to their lore and expose them to entirely new things — all of which can add to their long-term happiness.

Gretchen Rubin, bestselling author of The Happiness Project, is widely known as being a leading expert on the subject. One of her famous mantras is, "Enjoy the fun of failure." She teaches that you simply aren't aiming high enough if you're not experiencing some level of failure or intense stress. I certainly did when my digital greeting card company flopped. Rubin's research shows that true satisfaction doesn't come from static comfort and financial security. It comes more from taking action and stretching your capabilities.

Meanwhile, research by renowned relationship psychologist Dr. Eli Finkel concludes that one of the single biggest predictors of marital success is when spouses support and champion each other's dreams. He calls this the "Michelangelo phenomenon" — a spouse's support sculpts away excess stone to help reveal the core essence of their partner's dreams. Those spouses who prioritize money over dreams, on the other hand, risk creating dangerous fault lines of toxic resentment and contempt.

How to dream big in your own life

Here are some ways to begin to "dream big" in your own life — whatever "big" means to you, because it certainly doesn't mean you need to make a career change).

1. Ask the question. This week, ask your spouse or partner, "What's a dream you've never pursued?" Then listen. Just listen, without arguing how practical it is. The "asking" is a small act of love by itself.

2. Name the cost. Every dream worth chasing costs someone something — time, money, stability, sleep. Be honest about what your dreams cost. Pretending there are none is how resentment grows. But resentment grows even stronger if you don't pursue them.

3. Create space for dreams. Don't wait until "things calm down," because they never do. Open up a specific block of time, money, or attention for one or both of you to pursue a dream in the next 12 months.

4. Cheer them on! Tell your spouse and kids that you believe in their dreams. They should never need to wonder. Silence smacks of indifference.

5. Separate the dream from the outcome. Luisa's business didn't go as planned. But the "win" was in the trying. Measure dreams by whether you acted on them, not by whether they paid off. Because many times the pay-off isn't the obvious one.

Adapted from 'Hiding in Plain Sight: 10 Secrets to a Happy Marriage & Family' by Peter Csathy.

• Melanie Dulbecco has been CEO of the syrup company Torani for 35 years.
• Dulbecco said layoffs are a choice, and that Torani's decision not to do them has helped with retention.
• She said that the company is hiring fewer people than it would be if Torani didn't use automation.

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.

Our workers aren't concerned about being replaced by AI

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 were faced with a choice during the pandemic

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.

• Meta is building its largest-ever data center in northeast Louisiana.
• A local community college is training data center technicians to work there.
• Data center jobs are in high demand and can pay handsomely.

Thousands of construction workers are arriving in a small Louisiana community to build Meta's largest-ever data center.

Less than an hour away, at the Louisiana Delta Community College's West Monroe campus, the next generation of data center professionals is hoping to join their ranks.

"I see AI is really the future. We're going to need data centers to house all the data," Eric Crowe Jr., 27, told Business Insider. "I feel like it will become a very lucrative job to have, and we're going to need more of them. Why not get in now before it gets oversaturated?"

Crowe Jr. is among the students who signed up for the community college's Data Center Technician program. The four-week, nearly $3,700 training course prepares students to enter the data center industry, which is rapidly expanding to support the age of AI.

Construction for Meta's nearly 10-million-square-foot data center, Hyperion, is underway in rural Richland Parish, where business is now thriving as workers flood the region.

Meta says the project will include over 7,500 trade workers on-site at peak construction and support 1,000 operational jobs once completed. For residents living in the region, where there's no state minimum wage law and agriculture is a major industry, the new opportunity to make good money in a growing sector is too enticing to ignore.

"This is a stepping stone into the real world," Dan McCarty, director of Workforce Trades at Louisiana Delta Community College, said. "We prepare you with a résumé. We work on every aspect of employability, safety, and technical skills."

The inaugural class graduated in March, and all 11 students received job offers from IES Communications, which employs people working on Meta's project. McCarty said the program, which is available at the Winnsboro campus, now produces about 24 graduates a month.

In the past, a lot of people, including myself, had to leave here to find the good jobs," McCarty said. "Now they're 30 minutes down the road."

'It's a no-brainer'

The Data Center Technician program teaches students everything from operating equipment to workplace safety. They'll also have the opportunity to earn several certificates. During a class this September, nine students huddled around Fletch Batchelor, an instructor specializing in broadband, as he explained how to splice fiber optic cables.

"Do you know why squirrels chew through cable? They like a high fiber diet," Batchelor said, earning some chuckles.

The program encourages students to take a hands-on approach, which Trey Wadley, 30, said he appreciates. During the class, he participated in a live cable splicing demonstration. Wadley, who's interested in cybersecurity and has a background in the automotive industry, learned about the program while scrolling on Facebook, which, incidentally, is owned by Meta.

"As I learned more about Meta and data centers, they piqued my interest," he said. "I said, 'Okay, this might be something that fits me and that I'm into. I decided to give it a try."

Wadley, who recently welcomed a baby girl, wants to find work with Meta's project so he can work locally. Without Meta's project, Wadley said he'd likely have gone looking for job opportunities in Texas.

The push from tech companies and the US government to build out the nation's AI infrastructure has made data center jobs a valuable new path to lucrative employment. Business Insider reported in August that the median pay for data-center facility managers was $134,000, which is 64% higher than that of other facilities managers. The median pay for project managers at data center facilities was $115,000, a 12% increase over similar roles at other facilities.

Wadley said he's hoping to secure a position paying between $25 and $30 an hour. So is Crowe Jr., who previously handled packages and drove for FedEx, where he was averaging $14 an hour.

"Here, I could make about $25 to $30 per hour. It's a no-brainer for lots of people to pivot," Crowe Jr., who has an interest in cybersecurity, said.

McCarty said entry-level positions could earn as much as $24 an hour, but students who've graduated told him they reached $27 to $28 an hour within six months.

Booked and busy

Residents in Richland Parish, like other communities in the United States, have mixed feelings about the data center. While some say it will bring new jobs and boost the local economy, others are concerned about environmental impacts and disruptions to their daily lives.

It's a reality not lost on Crowe Jr. and Wadley, but they said it's unlikely that AI will simply go away.

"I think we should focus more on solutions to how we can coexist with it," Wadley said.

Students attending the technician class in September also spent time in a mock data center on campus, where they could apply skills they'd learned in class in a real-world setting.

While they tinkered with the equipment, John Bradley, a broadband workforce development instructor, said having access to a similar program as a teen would have been invaluable.

"I chose an alternative route, which was in construction and oil fields, but if I'd have had something like this that would've guaranteed me a good job, good money from the get go, and I could travel if I wanted to, I would've loved that," he said.

Bradley said the program prepares its graduates to be hired by contractors specifically working with Meta.

"We have a special email that we give to different contractors we spoke with that are waiting for them to graduate our class," Bradley said.

However, working at Meta isn't a requirement of participating in the program. Bradley said the skills students learn during the course are transferable, especially as data centers and similar construction jobs become more popular.

"It doesn't have to be a Meta data center. You may decide, 'Hey, I don't want to work in data centers anymore.' You still got banks, you still got IT departments," Bradley said. "You can literally go to work anywhere you want and use the same trades you learned here."

McCarty said the program has a backlog of students trying to get into the course, so they're hoping to expand their offerings.

"We've got some that are fresh outta high school, but we've had students up to 60 years old," he said. "It doesn't really matter what age you decide to get into this trade. Anyone is welcome to come in and learn it."

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.