Chris Pinner, a 42-year-old technical writer in Cleveland, knows his last day on the job is Dec. 29. The software company where he works told him so back in April.

At first, Pinner was puzzled by the supersize notice that his job would be eliminated. But the advance warning has given him more time to look for a new position, which Pinner said he appreciates. He is still in job-search mode as his end date draws closer.

Pinner and many other workers facing termination are experiencing a different kind of corporate cutting—layoffs with a long runway that can take weeks or months to finally come to pass. Wells Fargo and Disney are among large employers that have done some long goodbyes instead of more-traditional, abrupt ones, in which laid-off workers learn they are cut and leave on the same day, often escorted out by security.

The old way protected companies from security problems or lost clients as laid-off workers walked out the door, and workers had little recourse. Now employers are trying to appear transparent and compassionate when cutting, several executives and leadership consultants said.

“Companies can’t lay people off on the quiet anymore,” said Sarah Rodehorst, chief executive of Onwards HR, a software platform that helps companies with legal compliance during employee terminations. “Whatever they do is much more under a microscope. They have to hold themselves to a higher standard.”

Avoiding a backlash

Demand for white-collar workers has taken a big hit this year, as companies acknowledge they over hired during the pandemic and job openings dry up. The tightening job market means employers are piling on layers of new requirements and lengthy, additional rounds of interviews for a few coveted jobs, dragging out the hiring process as they grow more selective about whom they bring on.

Layoffs that are seen as insensitively done can spark backlash on social media, with laid-off employees venting online and circulating internal details, said George Penn, a managing vice president at Gartner who advises companies on staff restructuring.

“Layoffs became not only a legal but a reputational nightmare for some organisations,” he said.

Federal law requires employers of a certain size to give 60 days’ notice to workers when conducting big layoffs. Some companies have gotten around advance warning by paying terminated workers a lump sum to cover that period.

Some affected employees said they would still receive severance pay after their long layoff notice periods, though it would be reduced if they left before their designated end dates.

In the Houston area, James Ridgway Jr., 40, is working at Huntsman, a chemical company, after learning in August that he would lose his job at the end of the year. The father of two children with another on the way said the news was initially an “existential gut punch.” He said the long lead time has given him more time to network and tighten family finances.

“It’s not a great place to be in, but I appreciate that I do have that runway,” said Ridgway, adding that the notice is helping him as he hands off responsibilities to co-workers.

Ridgway, a communications manager, is still looking for another full-time job. Because his colleagues know he is job-hunting, ducking out for interviews is less awkward than feigning doctors’ appointments, he said.

Wade Rogers, Huntsman’s senior vice president of global human resources, said giving laid-off employees months of notice shows remaining and prospective workers that the company treats its people well. That approach, he said, could help the company recruit and retain good hires in the future.

“How we handle ourselves and how we handle our relationships with our associates matters,” he said.

‘Take every advantage’

Not all workers want to stick around after a layoff. A Wells Fargo employee said staying motivated after being terminated was tough. She was told months ago that her job would be eliminated. No precise date was given, making it hard to plan her job search.

“Every day, you go in, and you’re like, is it going to be today?” she said.

Wells Fargo said it periodically needs to adjust its staffing levels according to business needs. During layoffs, “We always treat our employees respectfully, including giving them reasonable time to prepare,” the bank said.

At Disney, a former corporate employee who was given several months’ notice this past spring said she was annoyed that she was expected to keep doing her job even though it was ending, until her manager said she could stay home and stop working. Two other Disney employees said they weren’t asked to work during their advance-notice period; they used the time to consider next career steps.

Earlier this year, a laid-off Disney marketing executive was given two months’ notice of his layoff. While he collected paychecks, he used the time to job-hunt and made use of his employee benefits. He took his children to Disneyland free several times.

“I am going to take every advantage of this as possible,” the former executive recalled thinking.

Disney declined to comment.

Some companies simply can’t give employees much warning, but some of those are trying to soften the blow.

“If you’re dealing in an environment where you have confidential patents or access to business plans, you just want to protect your company assets,” said Tashia Mallette, a longtime human-resources executive who conducted layoffs last year at Therabody, a wellness-technology company.

Mallette said that workers were notified on the day they had to leave but that Therabody encouraged managers to check on them and created an alumni Slack channel so people didn’t feel abruptly cut off. Mallette herself has left the company.

Companies don’t want workers to feel burned during a layoff. If anything, they want workers to feel that they would rejoin the company if given the chance.

Jennifer Bender managed layoffs of hundreds of people during her years at Change Healthcare, where until this past spring she was a senior vice president of human resources. The company had to trim staff during acquisitions and project and client fluctuations, and it also had to fill hundreds of openings a month, she said.

The company decided to tell people two to four weeks ahead of their layoff dates, she said. It felt more compassionate to workers, and it also made it easier to redeploy some people into other roles the company needed to fill, which was a benefit to the company and employees who were interested in staying on.

While longer notice periods involve risks, including security issues or unmotivated people who don’t want to work during that time, Bender said the company let employees know that performance issues could still result in corrective action, including termination for cause. That meant, she added, that it wasn’t much of an issue.

“It’s really a best practice at this point,” Bender said.

—Ben Eisen contributed to this article.

Chris Pinner, a 42-year-old technical writer in Cleveland, knows his last day on the job is Dec. 29. The software company where he works told him so back in April.

At first, Pinner was puzzled by the supersize notice that his job would be eliminated. But the advance warning has given him more time to look for a new position, which Pinner said he appreciates. He is still in job-search mode as his end date draws closer.

Pinner and many other workers facing termination are experiencing a different kind of corporate cutting—layoffs with a long runway that can take weeks or months to finally come to pass. Wells Fargo and Disney are among large employers that have done some long goodbyes instead of more-traditional, abrupt ones, in which laid-off workers learn they are cut and leave on the same day, often escorted out by security.

The old way protected companies from security problems or lost clients as laid-off workers walked out the door, and workers had little recourse. Now employers are trying to appear transparent and compassionate when cutting, several executives and leadership consultants said.

“Companies can’t lay people off on the quiet anymore,” said Sarah Rodehorst, chief executive of Onwards HR, a software platform that helps companies with legal compliance during employee terminations. “Whatever they do is much more under a microscope. They have to hold themselves to a higher standard.”

Avoiding a backlash

Demand for white-collar workers has taken a big hit this year, as companies acknowledge they over hired during the pandemic and job openings dry up. The tightening job market means employers are piling on layers of new requirements and lengthy, additional rounds of interviews for a few coveted jobs, dragging out the hiring process as they grow more selective about whom they bring on.

Layoffs that are seen as insensitively done can spark backlash on social media, with laid-off employees venting online and circulating internal details, said George Penn, a managing vice president at Gartner who advises companies on staff restructuring.

“Layoffs became not only a legal but a reputational nightmare for some organisations,” he said.

Federal law requires employers of a certain size to give 60 days’ notice to workers when conducting big layoffs. Some companies have gotten around advance warning by paying terminated workers a lump sum to cover that period.

Some affected employees said they would still receive severance pay after their long layoff notice periods, though it would be reduced if they left before their designated end dates.

In the Houston area, James Ridgway Jr., 40, is working at Huntsman, a chemical company, after learning in August that he would lose his job at the end of the year. The father of two children with another on the way said the news was initially an “existential gut punch.” He said the long lead time has given him more time to network and tighten family finances.

“It’s not a great place to be in, but I appreciate that I do have that runway,” said Ridgway, adding that the notice is helping him as he hands off responsibilities to co-workers.

Ridgway, a communications manager, is still looking for another full-time job. Because his colleagues know he is job-hunting, ducking out for interviews is less awkward than feigning doctors’ appointments, he said.

Wade Rogers, Huntsman’s senior vice president of global human resources, said giving laid-off employees months of notice shows remaining and prospective workers that the company treats its people well. That approach, he said, could help the company recruit and retain good hires in the future.

“How we handle ourselves and how we handle our relationships with our associates matters,” he said.

‘Take every advantage’

Not all workers want to stick around after a layoff. A Wells Fargo employee said staying motivated after being terminated was tough. She was told months ago that her job would be eliminated. No precise date was given, making it hard to plan her job search.

“Every day, you go in, and you’re like, is it going to be today?” she said.

Wells Fargo said it periodically needs to adjust its staffing levels according to business needs. During layoffs, “We always treat our employees respectfully, including giving them reasonable time to prepare,” the bank said.

At Disney, a former corporate employee who was given several months’ notice this past spring said she was annoyed that she was expected to keep doing her job even though it was ending, until her manager said she could stay home and stop working. Two other Disney employees said they weren’t asked to work during their advance-notice period; they used the time to consider next career steps.

Earlier this year, a laid-off Disney marketing executive was given two months’ notice of his layoff. While he collected paychecks, he used the time to job-hunt and made use of his employee benefits. He took his children to Disneyland free several times.

“I am going to take every advantage of this as possible,” the former executive recalled thinking.

Disney declined to comment.

Some companies simply can’t give employees much warning, but some of those are trying to soften the blow.

“If you’re dealing in an environment where you have confidential patents or access to business plans, you just want to protect your company assets,” said Tashia Mallette, a longtime human-resources executive who conducted layoffs last year at Therabody, a wellness-technology company.

Mallette said that workers were notified on the day they had to leave but that Therabody encouraged managers to check on them and created an alumni Slack channel so people didn’t feel abruptly cut off. Mallette herself has left the company.

Companies don’t want workers to feel burned during a layoff. If anything, they want workers to feel that they would rejoin the company if given the chance.

Jennifer Bender managed layoffs of hundreds of people during her years at Change Healthcare, where until this past spring she was a senior vice president of human resources. The company had to trim staff during acquisitions and project and client fluctuations, and it also had to fill hundreds of openings a month, she said.

The company decided to tell people two to four weeks ahead of their layoff dates, she said. It felt more compassionate to workers, and it also made it easier to redeploy some people into other roles the company needed to fill, which was a benefit to the company and employees who were interested in staying on.

While longer notice periods involve risks, including security issues or unmotivated people who don’t want to work during that time, Bender said the company let employees know that performance issues could still result in corrective action, including termination for cause. That meant, she added, that it wasn’t much of an issue.

“It’s really a best practice at this point,” Bender said.

—Ben Eisen contributed to this article.

Helen Toner was a relatively unknown 31-year-old academic from Australia—until she became one of the four board members who fired Sam Altman from the artificial-intelligence company he co-founded.

Thrust into the spotlight during the ouster and eventual return of Altman as CEO of OpenAI last month, Toner has emerged as a symbol of tension between AI-safety advocates and those giving priority to technological progress.

Toner maintains that safety wasn’t the reason the board wanted to fire Altman. Rather, it was a lack of trust. On that basis, she said, dismissing him was consistent with the OpenAI board’s duty to ensure AI systems are built responsibly.

“Our goal in firing Sam was to strengthen OpenAI and make it more able to achieve its mission,” she said in an interview with The Wall Street Journal.

Toner held on to that belief when, amid a revolt by employees over Altman’s firing, a lawyer for OpenAI said she could be in violation of her fiduciary duties if the board’s decision to fire him led the company to fall apart, Toner said.

“He was trying to claim that it would be illegal for us not to resign immediately, because if the company fell apart we would be in breach of our fiduciary duties,” she told the Journal. “But OpenAI is a very unusual organization, and the nonprofit mission—to ensure AGI benefits all of humanity—comes first,” she said, referring to artificial general intelligence.

Ultimately, Toner and some other board members did resign, clearing the way for Altman’s return.

In the interview, Toner declined to provide specific details on why she and the three others voted to fire Altman from OpenAI. Before his ousting, Altman and Toner had clashed.

In October, Toner, who is director of strategy at a think tank in Washington, D.C., co-wrote a paper on AI safety. The paper said OpenAI’s launch of ChatGPT sparked a “sense of urgency inside major tech companies” that led them to fast-track AI products to keep up. It also said Anthropic, an OpenAI competitor, avoided “stoking the flames of AI hype” by waiting to release its chatbot.

After publication, Altman confronted Toner, saying she had harmed OpenAI by criticising the company so publicly. Then he went behind her back, people familiar with the situation said.

Altman approached other board members, trying to convince each to fire Toner. Later, some board members swapped notes on their individual discussions with Altman. The group concluded that in one discussion with a board member, Altman left a misleading perception that another member thought Toner should leave, the people said.

By this point, several of OpenAI’s then-directors already had concerns about Altman’s honesty, people familiar with their thinking said. His efforts to unseat Toner, parts of which were previously reported by the New Yorker, added to what those people said was a series of actions that slowly chipped away at their trust in Altman and led to his unexpected firing on the Friday before Thanksgiving.

The board members weren’t prepared for the fallout from their decision.

The members, including Toner, were taken aback by staffers’ apparent willingness to abandon the company without Altman at the helm and the extent to which the management team sided with the ousted CEO, according to people familiar with the matter.

Toner took her account on social-media platform X private during the height of the crisis.

At one point during the heated negotiations, a lawyer for OpenAI said the board’s decision to fire Altman could lead to the company’s collapse. “That would actually be consistent with the mission,” Toner replied at the time, startling some executives in the room.

In the interview, Toner said that comment was in response to what she took as an “intimidation tactic” by the lawyer. She says she was trying to convey that the continued existence of OpenAI isn’t, by definition, necessary for the nonprofit’s broader mission of creating artificial general intelligence that benefits humanity at large. A simultaneous concern of researchers is that AGI, an AI system that can do tasks better than most humans, could also cause harm.

“In this case, of course, we all worked very hard to ensure the company could continue succeeding,” she added.

OpenAI has an unusual structure where a nonprofit board, on which Toner served, oversees the work of a for-profit arm. The board’s mandate is to “humanity,” not investors.

In the interview, Toner didn’t answer questions about her interactions with Altman. She wouldn’t comment on whether she would have done anything differently but said she had good intentions.

Before he was reinstated, Altman offered to apologise for his behaviour toward Toner over her paper, according to people familiar with the matter. Ultimately, he returned to lead the company without following through on that gesture.

Toner is known in the AI-safety world for being a critical thinker who isn’t afraid to challenge commonly held beliefs.

Some of Altman’s backers, including OpenAI investor Vinod Khosla, publicly expressed derision specifically toward Toner and Tasha McCauley, another former OpenAI board member who voted to fire Altman and is connected to organisations that promote effective altruism.

“Fancy titles like ‘Director of Strategy at Georgetown’s Center for Security and Emerging Technology’ can lead to a false sense of understanding of the complex process of entrepreneurial innovation,” Khosla wrote in an essay in tech-news publication the Information, referring to Toner and her current position.

“OpenAI’s board members’ religion of ‘effective altruism’ and its misapplication could have set back the world’s path to the tremendous benefits of artificial intelligence,” he wrote amid the power struggle.

Toner was previously an active member of the effective-altruism community, which is multifaceted but shares a belief in doing good in the world—even if that means simply making a lot of money and giving it to worthy recipients. In recent years, Toner has started distancing herself from the EA movement.

“Like any group, the community has changed quite a lot since 2014, as have I,” she said.

Toner graduated from the University of Melbourne, Australia, in 2014 with a degree in chemical engineering and subsequently worked as a research analyst at a series of firms, including Open Philanthropy, a foundation that makes grants based on the effective-altruism philosophy.

In 2019, she spent nine months in Beijing studying its AI ecosystem. When she returned, Toner helped establish a research organisation at Georgetown University, called the Center for Security and Emerging Technology, where she continues to work.

She succeeded her former manager from Open Philanthropy, Holden Karnofsky, on the OpenAI board in 2021 after he stepped down. His wife co-founded OpenAI rival Anthropic.

“Helen brings an understanding of the global AI landscape with an emphasis on safety, which is critical for our efforts and mission,” Altman said when she joined the board.

The new board members along with returning board member Adam D’Angelo offer a glimpse of the direction OpenAI might be headed. Larry Summers, former Treasury secretary, and Bret Taylor, former Salesforce co-CEO, appear to be more traditionally business-minded than Toner, McCauley and the third board member who was succeeded, Ilya Sutskever, OpenAI’s chief scientist.

There are no longer any women on the board, though the company is expected to expand it in coming months.

“I think looking forward is the best path from here,” Toner said.

When the South American nation of Guyana wanted to sell millions of carbon-offset credits to preserve its rainforests, government officials knew they had a problem: The country’s lush Amazonian forests were actually in good shape.

Guyana’s rate of deforestation was already low, meaning its forests wouldn’t yield much under standard methodologies for calculating carbon credits. So its government chose a new method that allows a large adjustment for countries with healthy forests. The change raised the credits that Guyana could issue sixfold. Guyana sold 37.5 million of them last year to U.S. oil giant Hess for at least $750 million, and is now shopping the remaining two thirds to countries facing pressure to comply with the landmark Paris climate accord, officials say.

That agreement calls for governments to adopt national plans to limit greenhouse-gas emissions and allows them to pay for emission-reduction projects elsewhere in the world to offset their own pollution. Credits for each ton of emissions cut can then be traded between countries. It is as if the emission reduction happened in the country buying the credit, not the one selling it.

Guyana is among the first in a long line of developing-world countries expected to cash in on credits compliant with United Nations agreements. Some officials worry the U.N. risks giving its seal of approval to credits for forests that aren’t under threat. At the COP28 climate summit under way in Dubai, negotiators are debating how much scrutiny carbon trading should face from U.N. experts and the public to prevent the mechanism from becoming a loophole in the Paris accord.

“If we play that game—every country gets to come in and pull an arbitrary methodology out of the ether, apply it to their forest areas and say give me credits—we’re never going to get anywhere,” said Kevin Conrad, the climate envoy of Papua New Guinea.

For now, the Paris accord imposes relatively little oversight on the market. Credits are required to undergo review by a panel of experts. But at last year’s COP in Egypt, governments decided that the experts wouldn’t be allowed to review the “appropriateness” or “adequacy” of projects.

That is fuelling fears the accord opens the door for polluting countries to buy lower-quality credits from poorer nations to meet their own emissions targets, undermining the Paris accord ambition of limiting global warming to 1.5 degrees Celsius above preindustrial era temperatures. Some developing countries are pushing for the right to keep much of the information around offset projects confidential. Companies would end up buying the credits, critics say, that would support spurious greenhouse-gas reduction claims. Hess said it would apply Guyana’s credits to its goal of completely offsetting its emissions by 2050.

“There is very little oversight of the process,” said Jonathan Crook of Carbon Market Watch, a Brussels-based nonprofit. “Some countries could set a higher bar, but there’s a risk that others do not.”

Guyana is in talks to sell credits to Singapore, which is evaluating whether it will accept the adjustment for low deforestation countries, an official involved in the talks said. The U.N.’s civil aviation agency last year said it would accept Guyana’s methodology under new regulations it set to limit emissions from international flights, making Guyana’s offsets the first eligible under the rules.

Switzerland is moving to purchase the first credits under the Paris accord, for non-forest projects in Ghana, Thailand and Vanuatu. The credits will then be used by Swiss companies to comply with the country’s greenhouse-gas limits under the Paris accord.

The Swiss government is refusing to invest in forestry projects because of uncertainties around the baseline against which the lack of deforestation is measured. Switzerland also has concerns around whether protections for forests are long term—a tree cut down or destroyed in the future would release the planet-warming carbon dioxide it has absorbed over its lifetime.

Corporations over the past decade have invested billions of dollars in greenhouse-gas offset projects in the developing world. Those projects yield so-called voluntary carbon credits: The companies are under no legal obligation to buy them but do so because of public commitments they have made to offset their carbon emissions.

Academic research and media reports have cast doubt on the impact of many of the projects underlying these credits. The problems were particularly acute in projects to prevent deforestation. Because such programs typically cover relatively small areas within a larger forest, they risk pushing logging and clear-cutting for agriculture into other sections that aren’t protected by a project.

Guyana’s project is designed to address some of these problems. It is one of the first to cover an entire nation, eliminating the possibility that deforestation could be displaced within the country. Covering around 45 million acres, it is one of the world’s largest forest-protection projects, according to Trove Research.

Guyana has some of the most pristine forests on the planet. They have been mostly spared the rampant logging and clear-cutting seen in neighbouring Brazil. Guyana lacks rich soil suitable for large-scale agriculture, a major driver of deforestation, scientists say.

“These are among the poorest soils on the planet,” said Janette Bulkan, a Guyanese forestry expert at the University of British Columbia.

Critics say issuing credits for protecting such forests violates a core principle of carbon crediting: They should only be issued for emissions that would have happened without the project.

Guyanese officials say its forests are nevertheless at risk in the near future without intervention. The country’s economy is growing quickly, as is global demand for the commodities that could be extracted from its rainforests. Guyana is also reaping a windfall from oil discoveries off its coast that are now being pumped by Exxon Mobil and Hess.

“Guyana’s forests offer opportunities for a wide range of goods and services, and development opportunities for opening up areas for industry and manufacturing,” said Pradeepa Bholanath, who oversees climate policy at Guyana’s Ministry of Natural Resources.

Guyana’s credits have been calculated by Architecture for REDD+ Transactions, a program run by the U.S. nonprofit Winrock International. The program’s methodology allows countries like Guyana that have had little deforestation in the past to issue credits against apredicted future level of deforestation under a formula devised by Winrock.

Winrock and other advocates of the methodology say the money allows much-needed climate finance to flow to rain-forested countries, even if they haven’t experienced past deforestation. Guyana has already received more than $100 million in its deal with Hess. Officials say that money is reaching tribes that live in the rainforests and being used nationally for forest preservation and renewable energy projects.

Think appearances don’t matter if you’re applying for a job online? New research shows that looking the part is very much part of the equation.

Your credentials and referrals may get you on the shortlist. Even if the whole process takes place online, though, it’s rare that a hiring manager won’t check out your LinkedIn profile. Making the final cut can come down to nailing a specific professional look, according to a new study published by the Harvard Business School.

Analysing 63,000 job openings and the more than 160,000 freelancers who applied for them over a six-month period, researchers found that certain accessories or physical features gave candidates an edge in landing the job—even after controlling for race, age and gender. Researchers used computer vision technology and machine learning to help classify which attributes made someone be perceived as a better fit for a job, then examined what role that played in hiring.

Different jobs favoured certain looks. The analysis showed that men wearing glasses and having a computer visible in the photo were perceived to be a better fit for a software programming assignment than men without glasses, boosting their chances of getting it. A beard gave them a slight edge, too.

With design and media-related jobs—one of two broad job categories examined in the study—flashing a smile and using a photo with high image quality was also important. Women sporting reading glasses and an “artistic” look were seen as a better fit for graphic design jobs than other women.

The researchers, from Harvard and the University of Southern California, found that certain photo features could tilt the selection process when profiles included equally high ratings from previous clients. The advantage could be roughly the equivalent of a 5% pay differential.

On the other hand, the study suggests that looking the part for a job doesn’t rely just on a candidate’s gender, ethnicity and age. Rather, paying attention to the details of a profile photo can go a long way, recruiters say.

“We would be fooling ourselves to say it’s not part of the package,” says Jessica Vann, founder of Maven Recruiting Group, a San Francisco job-placement firm. While not as important as job or communication skills, “it’s a piece, for sure.”

It’s generally a good idea to have a neutral background and no children, pets or celebrities in the photo. Vann, whose firm specialises in placing executive assistants and chiefs of staff at Silicon Valley companies, says she has counselled job seekers to eschew an obviously AI-generated photo or tone down the makeup.

In a CivicScience poll of more than 2,000 people conducted online last week, about half of respondents said they had used a professional-looking photo of themselves in some capacity; 82% agree that appearance makes a difference in a job offer.

Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 prohibits employers from discriminating because of race, gender and religion, among other factors. But other aspects of personal appearance—whether height, weight or hairstyle—aren’t necessarily covered by the federal statute, says Steven Pearlman, a labor attorney at Proskauer Rose in Chicago. Plus, it’s often difficult to legally prove whether such biases were the reason for a candidate’s rejection.

Brent McCreary, a theatre ticketing director in New York, has found certain photo details can swing a hiring manager’s decision either way. His professional profile picture usually shows him with a favorite celebrity. At one point it was Britney Spears. Now it’s Kelly Clarkson.

The choice worked against him when he lost out on a revenue management job at a theme park three years ago. In the rejection note, the interviewer suggested a more professional LinkedIn photo.

A month later, though, the executive director of a San Francisco-based streaming platform contacted him. The job he’d applied for was already filled but she noticed his photo. “Your personality and background seem so fun and special,” she wrote in a LinkedIn message. When another project-management job opened soon after, McCreary got it. The job turned out to be a better fit for him, too, he says.

“The company I ended up working for was one where I kind of jelled with the organisation,” he says.

Looking the part is often informed by stories and stereotypes, career coaches say. “You see it in books and movies,” says Catherine Fisher, a LinkedIn career expert who studies data and trends on the professional social media network.

Every industry has its own sartorial vibe, from the fleeced vests and sweatshirts of Silicon Valley to the traditionally suited-up finance crowd in New York.

“You always think hoodies are related to tech companies, but that doesn’t mean I have to wear one,” Fisher says. By the same token, angular bobs and big sunglasses have come to be associated with the fashion industry, though “not everyone in fashion looks like Anna Wintour,” she says.

That’s rapidly changing as home and work life become more mixed, Fisher says. More than half of working Americans say that how they present themselves at work has changed since the pandemic, according to a poll of 2,000 people conducted last year by LinkedIn. Two-thirds said they thought that managers and co-workers were more accepting of different ways of dressing and styling than several years ago.

Alice Stephenson, a 42-year-old lawyer, says that for much of her early career, she dressed the part and concealed her piercings and tattoos. “I wore a stereotype of what a professional looked like,” she says. “I never felt comfortable or able to express my own individuality or creativity through my appearance.”

That changed after she started her own law firm. In her photo on the firm’s website, in her email signature and on LinkedIn, she is wearing a friendly smile, a blue sleeveless dress and a visible sleeve of tattoos.

“I want to look friendly and approachable,” says Stephenson, who lives in Amsterdam. “That’s key to my brand.”