Month: July 2025

• Alex Mars transitioned from tech marketing to full-time content creation after a layoff.
• Mars gained traction on TikTok with a series called ‘Best, Worst, Fave’ reviewing vinyl albums.
• Financial instability and lack of traditional career benefits are challenges in Mars’ new career.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Alex Mars, a 28-year-old music content creator based in New York, about leaving a career in tech marketing to pursue content creation full-time. It’s been edited for length and clarity.

I always said that I would become a full-time content creator when my income from content creation outdid my salary at my corporate job in fintech. I ultimately didn’t get to that point because I was laid off before I could quit.

Since my layoff in April, I’ve been creating content full-time. I have the algorithm kind of figured out, but I don’t have a consistent way of making sure that it delivers views each month so I can pay my rent.

At my last job, I had constant stress and anxiety about pretending that I was invested in the corporate world when I wasn’t. I’m really happy with my decision to pursue content creation full time, but I’m on edge every single day.

My layoff gave me the push I needed

I studied business administration, marketing, and consulting, with a specific concentration in film and media management. I’ve always dreamed about how I could work in music.

My last corporate role was doing business-to-business marketing in the content creation world.

I started posting vinyl album reviews on TikTok in 2021, and they picked up traction. The CMO at my company thought it brought a unique perspective to the marketing department. Those I worked closely with knew I made content on the side. My final manager knew I did content as well and appreciated the hustle, as she had a side passion project of her own.

When I was laid off, I was already signed with a content creator management company. I decided to take six months and prioritize making content full time, and I’m three months into that.

I started a TikTok series that grew my platform

During my first year as a creator, I posted completely anonymously. I didn’t even use my voice until probably nine months in because I was terrified of people I knew finding it. In June 2022, I filmed the first video with myself in it. I remember shaking and being so nervous, but things just completely catapulted from there.

I started a series called “Best, Worst, Fave,” where I would say what I think is the best song, the worst song, and my personal favorite song from an album that I had on vinyl. In a matter of days, the series blew up. My ‘Best, Worst, Fave’ videos started to get around 200,000 views, with some of them getting close to 1M views.

The TikTok Creator Fund basically pays my rent

The success of “Best, Worst, Fave” allowed me to branch out. I could do more commentary rather than just vinyl content. The more I was posting reviews and sharing music news, the more the vinyl stuff stopped doing well.

Now that I’m a few years in, I can tell what will perform best based on the audience I’ve built. The TikTok Creator Rewards Program only pays for videos that are longer than one minute, and the viewer must see the video on their For You page.

There are a lot of guardrails there, but I feel I have enough of a grasp on what works and what doesn’t to continue to build this out.

The biggest challenge is the financial instability

Some brands pay close to five figures for a single video promoting their product or artist, but I’m not in control of how many deals I get. I live in a very expensive city, and I completely support myself. I don’t want to get in a position where I can’t do that.

At my first agency, fewer than 10 deals came through in six months, but with new management, that number increased in weeks. I joined my current management agency, Solace Talent, in August 2024.

In the beginning, I didn’t care as much about who I was promoting because it was extra money. I’ve now been focusing on making sure that the brand I’m building for myself right now will last me five, 10, 15, or 20 years down the line. I turn down deals I don’t think align with my brand or audience now. I’m looking at this as a business that I’m the CEO of.

It’s not a traditional career path, at least right now

I don’t get promoted from content creator to senior content creator to get a raise and a new sense of responsibility. It can be a little lonely and isolating, especially when I don’t have so many content creator friends who can relate to the struggles that I’m dealing with and the anxieties that I have about my new career.

Healthcare is a huge issue that I don’t think people talk about enough. When you’re working for a corporation, you get benefits. I’m on my own now, and that’s a huge expense to take on.

I’m really looking to take this to a place where I don’t have to rely on an algorithm that I can’t control to make this career possible for me.

I know that I want to stay in the music industry

I want to continue to be a presence in the music world, whether upfront as a public figure or behind the scenes, sharing my expertise.

Although it’s scary and a huge risk, I’m just chugging forward and giving myself the time and space to make it happen.

If you can connect your passion with your work, you’ll always be happy, and I’ve never been happier in a job than I am now.

Do you have a career pivot or content creator story that you would like to share? Contact this reporter at aapplegate@businessinsider.com.

• What puts off job seekers from applying for a certain role? A lot, it turns out.
• New Adobe Acrobat data points to unlimited PTO, mandatory cover letters, and words like “rockstar.”
• Business Insider wants to hear your biggest gripes with the job application process. Tell us below.

If you’re hiring for a customer-obsessed rockstar who wears many hats, you might be hearing crickets.

New data from Adobe Acrobat highlights some of job seekers’ biggest red flags in a job listing. It shows that some of the most popular phrases in a job description are also some of the most hated.

Adobe surveyed 1,060 people in May, including 807 job seekers and 253 hiring decision-makers.

The job seekers reported some of the phrases that most deter them from applying to a position are “customer-obsessed” and “wear many hats,” with 33% each, closely followed by “rockstar.” Other standouts include “fast-paced environment” and “family,” likely a reference to listings that say a team or workplace feels like a family.

But language wasn’t the only problem.

Nearly one in 10 of the applicants surveyed said they wouldn’t apply for a role offering unlimited paid time off. Some research has shown that workers with unlimited PTO actually end up taking less time off than their peers with a set number of vacation days.

More than half of job seekers surveyed say they’d pass on a job listing that didn’t specify a pay range. Some cities and states have enacted pay transparency laws.

Besides job listings, job seekers reported pain points with the job application process itself. One in four said they wouldn’t apply for a role requiring a cover letter, and nearly one in five said they couldn’t be bothered if there wasn’t an easy-apply option.

Now, we want to hear from you! Tell us your biggest issues with the job search and application process by filling out this survey below:

• Lyra raised $6 million from YC and 468 to expand its AI-native video meeting platform.
• The startup aims to optimize repetitive go-to-market strategies with an AI-powered meeting tool.
• Lyra competes with Zoom and Google Meet, growing rapidly since its launch.

Lyra has raised $6 million to expand its AI-native video meeting platform.

The San Francisco and New York-based startup lets customers turn sales calls into real-time whiteboards and keep all their conversations about a project in one place.

The product was born when its 23-year-old founder, a marketing consultant, said he realized that go-to-market strategies are repetitive and manual. He thought they could be optimized with AI.

“We basically just took a huge bet that everyone is wrong, all the AI note takers are wrong,” said Courtne Marland, Lyra’s cofounder and CEO. “Instead, you actually need to rebuild the conferencing platform itself because then you can control the entire screen.”

Once a meeting is scheduled in a virtual calendar, a link for a Lyra meeting is created, just like it is for existing meeting platforms. A team then has a call in which participants can collaborate on a screen share. Lyra’s AI generates notes that can be shared after the meeting.

The startup, which is now valued at $40 million, was part of Y Combinator’s spring 2025 batch.

From its November launch, the company’s revenue climbed from $20,000 to $700,000 in six weeks. Marland said Lyra is now powering over 200 hours of calls per week and competes with Zoom, Google Meet, and Microsoft Teams.

The $6 million seed round was led by 468 Capital, with participation from Rebel Fund, Y Combinator, and executives from companies like Ramp, Gusto, and Zapier. The round is Lyra’s second, following a small pre-seed round in November with contributions from three angel investors.

Lyra’s product is priced on a pay-per-minute basis. Packages start at $6,000, which gets users about 200,000 minutes. Pricing is customized after this amount, but gets cheaper with more minutes.

With the cash injection, Maland wants to invest in the startup’s infrastructure, which is under stress because of quick growth.

“It’s a mission-critical software, which means people don’t ever rip it out of their business,” he said. “So it needs to work 100%, all the time.”

Marland said that the company also wants to expand its go-to-market team by hiring engineers, product designers, and a head of growth. The company has a total of 5 employees, including the two cofounders.

Check out the pitch deck Lyra used to secure the fresh funding.

• When I got pregnant with my second child, I realized having help would be critical for my family.
• Though we have different parenting styles, my in-laws have always been supportive.
• They asked to take my kids on an RV trip this summer, and I didn’t hesitate to give permission.

I used to be the mom who wanted to control — or “optimize” — every aspect of her child’s day. Like many other attentive millennial mothers, I learned the differences between my baby’s cries, the “perfect balance” of wake time and rest time, and the signs of an imminent bowel movement.

I went through this education mostly on my own, tracking through apps and mentally logging the information in my exhausted brain. Meanwhile, my husband worked long hours remotely during the first year of our child’s life in a small apartment in New York City.

Once our family moved out of the big city to a small town and I found myself pregnant again, I knew I needed to do things differently the second time around — I wanted to avoid the pitfalls of postpartum anxiety and depression and build a supportive village.

Enter my in-laws.

My in-laws have a different parenting style than we do

They’re of the boomer generation, live two hours away, and are genuinely good people, with true hearts of gold. However, because of the generational divide (and, thus, variation in parenting styles), there have been moments of tension as my husband and I have navigated integrating our established families into our developing one.

It’s a tedious thing to invite your parents into the fold of your household’s daily rhythm, particularly when you and your spouse are making decisions that stray from their own. In the beginning, it was a challenge for me to relinquish any facet of care. I became a “helicopter” parent, batting off any influence that I feared would “ruin” my kids’ development. I kept my baby close because I had such profound anxiety surrounding my child’s emotional and physical well-being.

As my daughter grew into a toddler, I began to loosen my grip, relaxing the control I had over every aspect of her daily life. My mother-in-law, retired and delighted to be asked to help out with childcare, was a godsend, arriving with an open heart when needed.

However, there were times when she’d offer processed foods or provide ample screen time to our then-2-year-old. I was offended initially, but after some time, I realized that my expectations of her were unrealistic, and my skepticism that she had some sort of ulterior motive wasn’t rooted in truth. She’d also raised two children — two wonderful human beings — one of whom I’d chosen to marry, and she cared for my daughter with that same incredible love and attention, in her own way.

They’re taking my kids on an RV trip this summer, and it’ll be good for everyone

Now, I have two small children — both girls, 3 and 5 — so when my mother-in-law asked if they could spend a few days with them in their RV in a nearby town this summer, I agreed, without hesitation.

Of course, I will always be a little unnerved by our generational differences, which tend to surface via casual remarks, specifically surrounding gender roles, politics, or faith. But I’ve arrived at this: it is important that I allow my children to experience that precious (and time-sensitive) one-on-one time with my husband’s parents — their grandparents.

Not to mention, my husband has waxed for years about fond memories of taking RV trips with his mother’s parents, both of whom passed away years ago.

Recently, I asked him what he remembered about all those camping trips, and I was surprised to learn that he didn’t remember any notable landmarks, any final destinations, or any geographical specifics.

What he did remember was the smell of his Granny and Paw-Paw’s RV — that same overpowering smell of phthalates that transported him back in time whenever he entered his parents’ new RV. He remembered the taste of egg salad sandwiches, Pepsi, and plain potato chips. He remembered the countless card games — Uno and Skip-Bo — that occurred nightly at sunset. He remembered perusing the collection of Rand McNally road atlases, relics of pre-Internet days. He remembered the deep tenor of his Paw-Paw’s voice and the unsteadiness of his Granny’s.

Above all, he remembered that trips with his grandparents were never about the final destination: they were always about the journey, as cliché as that sounds. They were always about spending time with each other.

Sure, my in-laws may give my kids more sugary foods than I do. They may let them stay up way past their bedtime. They may allow them to watch all the movies and shows they want. But, in my opinion, these are not deal-breakers. They’re not reasons to disallow my children an experience that will live on, sweetly, in their memories long after their grandparents are gone. Because, at the end of the day, all that matters is that my children are safe, fed, and loved.

I’m looking forward to the experience for them — and I’m looking forward to the break I’ll get from caregiving.

I’m sure I’ll write about them while they’re away.

• Gen Z immigrants are working toward their career goals, but feel stuck due to their legal status.
• They may work low-wage and gig jobs despite having degrees and work authorization.
• As ICE continues to detain immigrants, it adds uncertainty to their futures

Camila Hernandez has been working minimum-wage jobs since she was 16.

She’s rung up McDonald‘s orders and roasted coffee, but her least favorite job was working in warehouses preparing fresh food for delivery. No matter how many layers she wore, she was freezing in the refrigerated rooms of produce.

“We were the youngest ones there,” Hernandez said of herself and her sister, who worked alongside her. They felt out of place surrounded by their colleagues, mostly older migrant workers.

Today, Hernandez is 22 and has a bachelor’s degree. She works as a shift lead at a coffee shop in Sacramento, where she lives, earning $17.50 an hour. She wants a career with a salary and benefits, but says not having work authorization or resident status is holding her back. Her discouragement is heightened this summer by reports that Immigration and Customs Enforcement has arrested young people brought to the US by their parents as children as they go about their day, going to school or work.

“It’s so frustrating. I came here at 4, so I’ve lived here my whole entire life,” Hernandez said. “I’m from Mexico, but I don’t know anything about the country.”

Millions of young immigrants raised and educated in the US are entering adulthood ready to contribute to the economy. Business Insider spoke to Gen Z “Dreamers” who came to the US as children and now say they are stuck, unable to fully realize their American dream. As immigration enforcement rises, these undocumented young adults face an uncertain future.

“I want a career,” Hernandez said. “I can’t be a barista forever.”

‘Keep working, keep following the rules, and eventually our time will come’

Juan Robles, 28, has work authorization through DACA, or Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals, an Obama-era program that is now caught up in a legal battle that paused new applications. Every two years, Robles has to reapply to maintain his status.

“I consider myself American just as much as any other person, and I think I’ve done a lot,” said Robles, who came to the US at age 7 in 2004.

But the journey toward building his American dream hasn’t been easy. He worked to put himself through college because he wasn’t eligible for loans or state grants. The first time he tried to buy a home, DACA recipients weren’t eligible for FHA financing. He isn’t eligible to receive any Social Security benefits when he retires.

“It was like a slap in the face,” Robles said of the barriers. “Not only did we have to work hard for what we have, but we have to work a lot harder just because of who we are.”

In 2022, he cashed out his retirement savings and borrowed $20,000 from his parents to jump-start his business, Juanderful Tacos. He said business has been booming and last year, he owed the IRS $8,759 in taxes from sales.

“People have the audacity to say that immigrants don’t pay taxes,” Robles said.

He hoped his professional efforts and lack of criminal record would prove that he deserves to earn citizenship. With the recent escalation in ICE arrests, he feels a renewed sense of despair. More than a decade since DACA was established, Robles, who lives in Phoenix, is facing the risk of deportation.

“If you are present in the United States illegally, you will be deported,” Abigail Jackson, a spokesperson for the White House, previously told Business Insider. “This is the promise President Trump made to the American people that the administration is committed to keeping it.”

Robles and his wife, who is also undocumented, have been outspoken about their status online and are longtime immigrant activists. The bio on their restaurant’s Instagram page reads, “very proudly DACA-owned and operated.”

“We got to just keep our heads down, keep working, keep following the rules, and eventually our time will come,” Robles said. “We really can’t hope for anything else.”

‘What now? I still can’t get a job.’

For many in the US, a college degree is an important stepping stone toward the middle class. According to the Social Security Administration, those with higher education degrees earn over $1 million more in median lifetime earnings than their peers without a degree. But a professional career is a much harder step for young people living in the US on DACA status or without permanent legal status.

One undocumented LA-based Gen Zer said she dropped out of Art Center College of Design because she maxed out on the financial aid and loans the state of California offers to non-citizen residents and didn’t qualify for federal aid because she isn’t a refugee or permanent resident. She’s been afraid to continue her work as a freelance photographer due to recent ICE raids in Los Angeles, and has turned down job opportunities, which leaves her worried about paying rent.

Jennifer R. Nájera, a professor of Ethnic Studies at the University of California, Riverside, said that in addition to the professional and financial strain, students without legal status are physically and emotionally affected by the threat of deportation and family separation. Statewide surveys at California’s public universities found that 28% of undocumented students and 30% of students with undocumented parents had reported clinical depressive symptoms compared to 21% of their peers.

“There’s a lot of disillusion with the American dream among immigrant communities, especially working-class immigrant communities,” said Nájera, who works with and studies undocumented student activists.

Hernandez can relate. She graduated with a bachelor’s in health science from Sacramento State University in 2023, but finding work in her field of study has been harder.

She hoped to receive US citizenship when she married her high school boyfriend in 2024. When the marriage broke up last year, she was on the cusp of securing a green card. She is now on a different pathway to citizenship through the Violence Against Women Act.

Hernandez feels frustrated that she’s back to living with her parents and working an hourly wage service job. She wants more for her life, and is attending a community college to become a nurse because immigration status is not a barrier to getting a license in California.

Getting hired at a hospital is a different story: She would need to have US citizenship or a green card. She knows it’s a risk to take on additional debt for nursing school when she might not get hired until a multi-year legalization process is over. Hernandez said it’s worth it to keep driving toward her goal of making it beyond minimum-wage jobs that don’t provide benefits.

“I got my EMT, I got my degree,” said Hernandez, who doesn’t qualify for a paramedic license in California because of her legal status. “What now? I still can’t get a job.”