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• It’s a dangerous time to own a brick-and-mortar storefront in France.
• Violence erupted across the country on Saturday, as black-clad rioters ransacked stores.
• Around 1,500 storefronts were targeted, one corporate heavyweight said.

Business owners in France are speaking out after cost-of-living protests turned into widespread rioting and looting across the country over the weekend.

Alexandre Bompard, the CEO of Carrefour, one of France’s largest supermarket chains, said that about 1,500 businesses were targeted in the unrest.

Bompard and several other corporate heavyweights condemned the rioting and called on French authorities to restore order.

Photos and video from Paris and other French cities showed black-clad rioters smashing storefronts and leaving laden with armfuls of pilfered goods.

“We cannot allow violence to destroy what generations have put so much energy into building,” Thierry Guibert, the CEO of Lacoste, said on X.

Here’s what business owners are saying.

Thierry Guibert, CEO of Lacoste and Aigle.

Guibert, who heads the luxury French clothing brand Lacoste and the outdoor clothing brand Aigle, issued a forceful statement on social media. He said the looting is antithetical to the entrepreneurial spirit.

“When our Lacoste and Aigle stores are looted, like so many other businesses across France, it is not only shop windows that are being smashed,” he said in French. “It is jobs, years of work, know-how, and the commitment of thousands of women and men that are being put at risk.”

Guibert said his concerns were shared by other entrepreneurs and smaller shop owners across France. He portrayed the riots as a degradation of French industry.

Lacoste operates about 150 storefronts across France.

Fabien Devide, CEO of Team Vitality

The head of one of France’s biggest professional esports organizations said that a part of him “went up in smoke” after his gaming café and club was looted on Saturday.

“The right to demonstrate is a fundamental freedom that I will defend all my life,” Devide said on social media. “But looting and destruction should never have a place in these fights.”

The esports organization operates a 4,300-square-foot gaming center, merchandise store, and café in central Paris. Vitality’s X account posted on Saturday that “the premises of our club were looted.”

“Fortunately, none of our staff members nor any fans were injured,” Vitality said. “On the other hand, our display windows were destroyed, and our trophies and computer equipment were stolen.”

Alexandre Bompard, CEO of Carrefour

Bompard, the CEO of the French supermarket and retail chain Carrefour, said that 50 of its stores were targeted by rioters on Saturday.

“Nothing can justify such violence,” Bompard said on X in French. “Those who attack the work tools of courageous entrepreneurs and their teams in this way must face an uncompromising response.”

“The Republic must protect its shopkeepers!” he added.

He attached four photos on his X post showing the ruined aisles of one Carrefour store. In the pictures, items litter the ground, and the shelves are empty.

Thierry Cotillard, chairman of Les Mousquetaires

Thierry Cotillard, chairman of Les Mousquetaires, a French retail group that owns the Intermarché supermarket brand, called the looting “unacceptable” in a LinkedIn post.

“We cannot trivialize these scenes,” he said. “We cannot accept that violence becomes a response, that destruction becomes a mode of expression and that those who work honestly become the collateral victims of the anger of others.”

Cotillard said at least two of his franchises in Paris and Rennes were “ransacked by thugs” during the riots on Saturday. He said his thoughts were with “all the shopkeepers who are paying the price.”

“To our members, to our teams who are victims of this damage: you are not alone,” he said. “We are at your side.”

• Heidi Widmer is a 35-year-old who moved into an apartment building in Los Angeles in July.
• For the first two weeks, she heard a loud sound from the apartment above and was annoyed.
• She found out the noise was being made by her neighbor, who has Parkinson’s.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Heidi Widmer. It has been edited for length and clarity.

In July, I moved into an apartment in Los Angeles, exhausted from a six-day drive across the country from New York. All I wanted to do was get into the apartment and sleep, and luckily, my bed had been delivered on the same day I arrived.

Trying to fall asleep at 2 a.m., all I could hear was a loud noise coming from the apartment upstairs. It sounded as if someone was bowling. Although I was tempted to shout for them to be quiet, I held my tongue — I was the new neighbor and didn’t want to be difficult.

But the noise just didn’t seem to stop. Whoever lived up there also never came downstairs. Who lives up there? I thought to myself.

I realized my neighbor had Parkinson’s

Two weeks after moving in, I heard someone coming down the stairs and had to get a glimpse of who lived above me.

Peeking out of my door, I saw Carole for the first time, slowly making her way down the stairs, shaking badly from what was clearly Parkinson’s, and trying to carry a bunch of bags full of recycling.

Just as I was about to open the door to see if she needed help, she dropped all the bags with only a couple of steps left. I burst out of my apartment to help her.

“Oh my gosh, thank you,” she said in her sweet British accent. “Did you just move in? Am I too loud for you?”

In that moment, I felt totally and completely humbled.

Having grown up in the Catholic church, I was taught never to judge a book by its cover, and with Carole, I hadn’t even seen the cover. I judged her simply by the noise she produced upstairs. How could I be so judgmental?

It turns out that sound had been Carole rolling a three-wheeled, broken chair across her floor to get to her mini fridge — the mini fridge social services had given her when her refrigerator broke. She had to hoist herself out of her broken chair to get down and access the mini fridge.

That was the noise.

I was determined to figure out what I could do to help

Two days after we met, I knocked on her door. She peeked through and nervously let me in. The conditions inside weren’t great.

Although she can live independently, she just needs a little help. I later learned that she doesn’t like accepting help from people, especially social services. The fact that she is frightened of the very people meant to help her breaks my heart.

That day, I took all of her trash out for her, reassuring her I wasn’t judging her at all.

In the weeks and now months that have followed, I have been up to Carole’s to help with the trash, cooking (she’d only been having microwave meals), cleaning, and contacting the landlord to get him to replace and repair items in the apartment. We’ve decorated her apartment, too.

I raised $80,000 to help her out

Together, we made her an Amazon wish list, and I shared it on social media so that people could order things she needs and have them delivered directly to her. People have been so generous, purchasing things like an expensive Buddhist “butsudan” that Carole didn’t expect anyone to buy.

We set up a GoFundMe, which has raised about $80,000, and we plan to use the funds to have a stair lift installed for her. Any leftover money will be spent on in-home care as she continues to age and her Parkinson’s Disease progresses.

I know I’ve been helpful to Carole in these last few months, but she’s been the perfect person at the perfect time for me, too. Moving to LA, I had hardly any connections. Lots of Carole’s family members are either no longer living or back in the UK (she moved here in her 20s as an au pair).

Carole became the family I haven’t had, and I became hers. We text back and forth each day, and I see her most days. She calls me granddaughter, and I see her as my grandmother.

When I’ve had a hard day at work teaching at a local middle school, Carole is ready to give me a big hug when I get home. She’s been my safe space, and I’ve been hers. The universe knew we needed each other.

It’s an unlikely connection, but it shows that when you lead with kindness rather than judgment, the person you were ready to judge can become someone you can’t imagine your life without.

• Our friendship formed over questionable decisions, break-ups, hangovers, and, eventually, the messy business of becoming adults.
• Then, three baby girls born in three cities over three weeks started a completely new chapter.
• Our connection became our parenting lifeline, proving that the best friendships grow with you.

“What a night!” “I barely slept.” “I don’t even know what time I went to bed.”

The same statements can have very different meanings in different stages of life. My friends and I used to worry about where everyone was at 2 a.m. Now, we worry about whether everyone’s baby has pooped that day.

Laura-Kate (Lauks), Kirsten (Kirst), and I met 25 years ago at an all-girls boarding school in South Africa, then partied our way through university and early adulthood. For years, our biggest problems were nursing sore heads with painkillers and junk food, who was dating whom, where we were going that weekend, and whether anyone had taken a particularly unflattering photo.

Then, the three of us had babies all within three weeks of one another, reaffirming our bond and allowing us to evolve together in new and exciting ways I never imagined.

Real adulthood happened

Lauks got pregnant unexpectedly, bravely navigating the challenges of being a semi-single mom with a husband who works abroad for up to three months at a time. In the same period, Kirst and her American husband settled in the US, and I was undergoing IVF treatment. We all had our own challenges.

Fast forward a bit, and Lauks told us she was expecting another unplanned surprise. It was a contrast to my own fertility journey, which had been a roller coaster of disappointments, including a failed embryo transfer. I was about to undergo a second transfer when she gave us the news over group text.

Lauks lives in a town about an hour from me. It happens to be on the way to my fertility doctor. On one drive home, soon after sharing her good news, I stopped to see Lauks to congratulate her. I was also six weeks pregnant at the time. I remember sitting there in the cafe trying to get the words out: “I’m pregnant.” Cue the ugly crying.

Of course, my next phone call was to Kirst in the US. Little did I know that she had some news she was itching to tell me too. All three of us were pregnant at the same time.

The tone of our WhatsApp group changed immediately

After comparing and complaining about our pregnancy symptoms for months, one baby arrived, then another, then another.

We all arrived at motherhood differently, but we each welcomed a baby girl into the world within three weeks across three different cities (and two continents), and our friendship acquired an entirely new vocabulary.

We had once bonded over crushes, kisses, and hangovers. Now, we talked about latching, snot-sucking, and the intricate details of every strange rash. The conversations may have been less titillating, but somehow, they were even more intimate.

Our WhatsApp group became a kind of 24-hour maternal helpline. “Does this look normal?” Reply at 3 am: “Yes, unfortunately.” We sent memes when we were too exhausted to form sentences. We celebrated first smiles and first rolls. We talked about periods, pimples, sex, husbands, and everything else that apparently becomes acceptable conversation once you’ve been friends for 25 years.

Then, the group chat blew up with more surprises

Earlier this year, Kirsten let us know that baby number two was on the way. This time, it was me bubbling over inside, dying to tell them that I had gotten pregnant naturally. In August, Kirst gave birth to a baby boy, and my baby girl arrived in September.

Although we haven’t been in the same room since Kirst moved to the US three years ago, we remain as close as ever, if not closer. My girls are my cheerleaders, doulas, online health advisors, and a massive reason why I’ve stayed sane (enough) as a mother. They’ve shown me the power of long-term friendship and the ways women can lift each other up.

In another 25 years, we’ll be in our 60s

I can’t help but imagine what another 25 years will do to our friendship. We’ll be in our 60s, and the kids will (hopefully) be fending for themselves out in the world.

Along with the gray hairs and wrinkles, our priorities will have probably changed once again. After the first 25 years, I’ve learned that the best friendships don’t stay the same, they grow with you. So I know my besties will still be there for me, just with entirely new things to commiserate over, cry over, and kill ourselves laughing about.

• Jen Podany raised her three children in a busy Los Angeles neighborhood where traffic limited their independence.
• After moving to a small Arizona town, her kids can ride bikes and play with neighborhood friends.
• She says their new lifestyle reminds her of the freedom children had growing up in the 1980s.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Jen Podany, founder of Bluestone Sunshields. It has been edited for length and clarity.

Near the end of 2024, my family of five had once again escaped Los Angeles for the quiet we found 10 hours south in Snowflake, Arizona.

We’d been doing it for years, renting an Airbnb in Snowflake, a town of 6,000 in the middle of nowhere, switching off amid the miles of empty land.

It had started as a stopover on our way to visit my husband’s family in New Mexico. We fell in love with the town, and from then on, we’d visit whenever we needed to get away from the busyness of LA.

In Snowflake, we felt like we could catch our breath. Our souls calmed each time we arrived and ached to stay each time we left.

We put an offer on a house

Back in LA, specifically Burbank, the five of us — my husband and our three children, whom we homeschooled — lived in a duplex made up of two connected apartments. We lived in one of them, which had two bedrooms and one bathroom. From the other apartment, my husband and I ran our two separate businesses.

The duplex was in a neighborhood near a busy street, and we had to be cautious about letting the kids go outside to play because of the cars. I was always holding someone’s little hand when we were out, just in case. You could hear planes flying back and forth into Burbank Airport. As our kids and businesses grew, we felt increasingly confined.

Then we saw a house on the market in Snowflake, and I felt in my bones that we should put in an offer.

It was a four-bedroom house surrounded by land, chickens, cows, and a crazy turkey. We could buy it and have our own place to stay when visiting, rather than always renting an Airbnb.

We bought the house for about $500,000, and on our first visit to stay in it in January 2025, none of us wanted to go back to Burbank.

We knew then that we’d make Snowflake our home. And so we did.

We moved from Los Angeles to a town of 6,000 people

In so many ways, our life looks exactly like life in LA. Our routines have remained the same. Every morning, just like in LA, we start our day at a coffee shop. Except in Snowflake, there’s only one place to go instead of 20 choices. We work, we homeschool, we eat our meals, and we go to sleep — just like we did in LA.

But by transplanting our lives to a quiet town, we all feel calmer and more peaceful.

Personally, my nervous system has regulated. In LA, I felt like the world was constantly coming at me, like I was being bombarded and reacting to everything around me. Here, I feel like I’m in the driver’s seat, with a clear head.

Not only has it been good for my well-being, but it’s also been good for my business. The move has given me the mental space to think bigger. It’s led to greater creativity, paving the way for business growth.

My kids have an 80s childhood

My kids love Snowflake, too. I didn’t have to convince them about the move.

They have the freedom to be out of the house without worrying about cars and crime. Just a bike ride away are other kids with whom they are often found playing.

I think kids grow up quickly in cities, and living here, I feel like my kids get to just be kids. It’s like going back to being a kid in the ’80s, and I love that for them.

The house is bigger, so we aren’t living on top of each other, but they’ve also got endless outdoor space to explore.

Even though I lived in LA for 20 years, we never experienced friendship and community as we have in just over a year in Snowflake.

We can’t leave the house without seeing someone who wants to stop and talk. Everyone here is on “mountain time” — slowing down. No one is rushing around, head down, looking at their phones, too hurried to have a conversation.

Everyone is present and friendly.

My husband and I still occasionally have to go to LA for work, and each time we come back home to Snowflake, I take a deep breath and know we made the right decision to relocate our family.

• MapQuest is pulling the curtain back on automatic license plate readers.
• Users can now locate Flock Safety and other surveillance cameras on MapQuest’s app.
• Critics of the tech have raised privacy concerns and potential misuse.

MapQuest, the OG software to find your way from point A to point B, is taking on the surveillance state.

The free mapping service unveiled a new feature for its mobile app on Thursday that allows users to turn on a “surveillance layer” on a map to locate known automated license plate readers, or ALPRs, along their route.

MapQuest says the app can identify cameras developed by Flock Safety, Axon Enterprise, Motorola Solutions, and PlateSmart, among others.

“The Roads Have Eyes!” the company said in its BlueSky post announcing the new feature.

License plate readers capture images of vehicles and then use machine learning to turn details such as license plate numbers, car make, color, and model into searchable data. They’re commonly found at intersections, parking lots, roadways, highways, and neighborhood entrances, businesses, and private properties.

Law enforcement agencies initially embraced license plate readers to help them locate vehicles and identify suspects. Retail outlets have also used Flock cameras as part of their security efforts.

A major backlash against the cameras, however, has led stores, police, and towns to dial back their use.

Critics say the cameras raise privacy concerns and that the data they collect can be misused or shared with federal immigration officials. Some people who’ve opposed the cameras have staged protests, launched petitions, and even forcibly removed them.

The city of Tempe in Arizona said in August it shut down its Flock Safety camera network and planned to terminate its contract. Other towns followed suit.

“These cameras have helped our police officers do their jobs, and we don’t discount that,” Tempe Mayor Corey Woods said in a public statement at the time. “But the risk of misuse is too great. We have to be able to provide public safety in a way that maintains the trust of our community. For Tempe, that means taking these cameras down.”

Flock says its license plate readers do not use facial recognition and that customers — meaning the ones putting up the cameras — can control access to and sharing of the data collected. Amid growing backlash, the company has tightened its privacy safeguards, including reducing the time data is retained from 30 days to 7 days.

“They are built to focus on the vehicle involved in an incident and the details that can help distinguish it from other vehicles on the road,” Flock told Business Insider in August.

MapQuest first launched in the late 1990s, allowing users to map out a route and print directions. The release of Google Maps eventually obliterated the service. As it tries to stay relevant, it has jumped at opportunities to leverage prevailing public discourse.

In August, MapQuest briefly topped app stores after it — unlike Google — rebuffed President Donald Trump’s executive order to rename “Lake Ontario” to “Lake America.”

• Elon Musk is giving reams of cash to Republicans.
• Most of that dough is ending up in Texas, according to financial disclosure forms.
• In Texas, Ken Paxton is running a tight race against James Talarico.

Elon Musk is forking over generational wealth to Republicans facing tough midterm elections this cycle.

Over two donations in September, Musk gave a combined $158 million to the Senate Leadership Fund, a super PAC aligned with Senate Republicans, which has, in turn, given reams of cash to funds supporting the Republican candidate in Texas.

The money, shown in new federal disclosure forms, cements Musk as a major player in Republican politics over a year after he publicly split with President Donald Trump over the latter’s handling of the Epstein files (though the two have since reconciled).

Republicans are facing serious headwinds over the Iran war, rising inflation, and sky-high gas prices. Polls show that American voters are largely dissatisfied with Trump’s leadership and handling of the economy.

All told, Musk has given about $276 million since July. Much of Musk’s political donations have ended up in Texas, according to federal disclosure forms, where embattled Attorney General Ken Paxton is engaged in a mudslinging battle for the Senate with state representative James Talarico.

One day after Musk notched a $75 million donation to the Senate Leadership Fund, the Super PAC gave a $75 million donation to the Texas PAC, a group aligned with Paxton.

Then, also in September, another $83 million donation by Musk was matched the next day by an identical donation to the Texas PAC, according to federal disclosure forms.

Talarico’s campaign, meanwhile, has raised about $129 million.

Musk’s companies are already investing billions in the Lone Star State, as the business magnate builds SpaceX’s terafab semiconductor facility outside Houston.

In 2024, Musk announced that he was moving SpaceX’s headquarters from California to Texas in response to Gov. Gavin Newsom’s policies on gender identity.

Representatives for Paxton and Musk did not immediately respond to requests for comment on Saturday.

Musk, the CEO of SpaceX and Tesla, said last year that he had probably “done enough” political spending, though he left the door open.

“Well, if I see a reason to do political spending in the future, I’ll do it. I don’t currently see a reason,” he told Bloomberg at the time.