Warren Buffett is used to giving advice.

For decades, the Berkshire Hathaway chairman has sat before a packed arena during his company’s annual shareholder meetings, fielding investor questions on everything from artificial intelligence to the ins and outs of the insurance business to marriage advice.

In “Warren Buffett: A Life and Legacy,” which airs on Jan. 18 at 3 p.m. E.T. on CNBC, Becky Quick asks the Oracle of Omaha about some of the toughest questions and best advice he’s ever given. Buffett eventually arrives at a challenge he used to pose to college students.

Buffett would ask the students to consider a scenario in which, given a class of 300 or so of their peers, they could receive 10% of the lifetime earnings of five of them. Who would they choose — and why? And who would they sell short? The people you chose, he says, wouldn’t necessarily be the best looking or the smartest or the most athletic.

“Of course, I explained at the end, you can be the person that you would buy,” Buffett says. “There is nothing impossible. Because it isn’t whether you can throw a football 60 yards, and it … isn’t the one with the highest IQ. You can be one of the five.”

So what could get you on the list of someone with high expected lifetime earnings?

“It’s luck, a lot of it. If you choose the right parents, you’re rich when you come out,” Buffett says. “You’ve won the lottery — the ovarian lottery.”

But Buffett told students they could still be one of the people in the room their classmates should bet on.

“You can do it by being a good person, by reading a lot, by spending less than you take in,” he says. “I just told them you can spend 110% of what you earn once, and then you used it up. The rest of your life you’re underwater.”

Buffett makes sure to emphasize the latter point. While certain types of loans, such as a mortgage, may make sense in some instances, you generally want to avoid going into debt, Buffett says.

“Beyond a certain point, if you get in a hole or anything, it is difficult to dig out,” he says. “It isn’t that it’s impossible, and I give credit to people to do it. But do it the easy way.”

Of course, you’re not going to end up being one of the top earners among your peers if you don’t work hard and focus on self-improvement, Buffett says. He recalls longtime partner Charlie Munger’s habit of “selling himself” his most productive hour of the day — spending one hour each morning focusing exclusively on improving his mind and selling the rest of his working ours to clients.

“That’s not crazy,” Buffett says. “Your future is your future, and you can’t expect anybody else to do it.”

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At just 15, Tuan Le made a bold promise: He told his parents he would help them retire in 10 years.

The family had just immigrated to Canada from Vietnam, and Le’s parents worked tirelessly to provide for him and his sister.

“I remember my old man coming home at, like, 7 a.m., and my mom told me that he lost like five pounds after one week,” the 25-year-old tells CNBC Make It. “That was an awakening moment for me. That’s when I told my parents, ‘Give me 10 years, I’m gonna retire you guys.’”

His parents wanted better opportunities for Le and his sister, he says. While their family was “extremely comfortable in Vietnam,” he says, the opportunities for college graduates weren’t as abundant as they are in the U.S. Although Le says his parents “sold everything” to move the family to Canada, the move caused a lot of depression and anger for Le, who didn’t speak much English when he immigrated.

But in 2025, Le made good on his promise of helping his parents retire. The success of the video production company he founded, Toronto-based ShortsCut, allowed Le to start sending his parents $5,000 CAD — around $3,652 USD — per month. It’s enough to cover their rent and expenses living about an hour outside of Toronto. 

“My parents are still working because they told me they wanted to do something with their time, but they don’t have to work,” he says. His parents work two days a week at a farmers market stall his mom runs.

Le founded ShortsCut, which creates short-form videos for brands, in 2023. The company mainly produces videos for TikTok, Instagram Reels and YouTube Shorts. He started small, filming food for restaurants around Toronto, and says he eventually leveled up to making high-quality videos designed to go viral on social media. 

In 2025, ShortsCut brought in $1.08 million with a net profit of just over $488,000, according to documents reviewed by CNBC Make It. The company generally has 10 to 12 clients on its roster, including pet food and tech companies, Le says. 

While struggling to acclimate to life in Canada, teenage Le played a lot of video games, he says, and eventually started cutting together video montages of his gameplay. 

“That’s how I got into video editing,” he says. From there, “I started editing videos for League of Legends YouTubers and then finance YouTubers [and] some dropship YouTubers.”

Back then, he charged $20 CAD for roughly 20-minute videos, he says. He enjoyed the video editing process so much, he decided to pursue it professionally, enrolling at Toronto Film School a year after he graduated from high school in 2018.

One of his first assignments was to make a video on a subject that was meaningful to him, and he made a short film about his parents. The film landed in the school’s hall of fame, Le says, and at that point, just four months into his time there, he decided to drop out.

“To me it was like, ‘Wow, that’s sick,’ but at the same time, I heard this quote that goes like, ‘If you’re the best in the room, then you’re in the wrong room,’” he says.

After dropping out of film school, Le tried to land “any job” that would let him make videos for a living by cold emailing “every single CEO, production company, marketing agency in Toronto,” he says. But he lacked professional experience and didn’t receive any offers. 

Eventually, Le offered to work for a Toronto-based content production company for free for three months in exchange for training in running a business, such as writing emails and negotiating deals.

During that time, Le started shooting his own videos on the side. He messaged “every single restaurant” in Toronto asking if he could make a video for them in exchange for a meal, he says.

“I was shooting videos for a restaurant in exchange for free food, and I was living out of a suitcase with my laptop on my friend’s couch,” Le says.

He started out making videos for small food stalls and mom-and-pop shops on his phone before upgrading to nicer cameras he got off of Facebook Marketplace. Still, Le noticed the videos weren’t garnering a ton of views or engagement when the restaurants posted them on Instagram.

TikTok was beginning to really take off at the time, and Le saw that as an opportunity. He asked his clients for $2,000 to make 10 TikToks.

“If it doesn’t work, if it doesn’t get any views, I will give you your money back,” he says he told them.

The first video Le made for a client racked up 700,000 views, he says. And the next got 300,000. His strategy was simply to identify trending video formats and make similar videos promoting the restaurants. His viral videos helped one client gain 9,000 followers overnight, he says.

“After that I was like, ‘Wow, I think I got something here,’” he says. “I just took that case study [to other clients] and was like, ‘Hey, I can help you go viral.’”

After his three months of working for free were up, Le left to start ShortsCut at the end of 2022. The company officially launched in January 2023.

Le soon branched out to work with brands outside of the restaurant world, including Buldak ramen noodles and AI software company Replit.

As Le’s portfolio grew, so did his prices. Initially, ShortsCut charged $2,000 a month per client. It uses a retainer model, so the number of videos produced per month varies by client. Now, the company charges between $10,000 and $16,000 a month.

In the company’s early days, Le guaranteed virality or he’d refund the client’s money — and only had to issue one refund, he says.

“Now that I have a track record of making things go viral and have the credential to myself, I don’t have to make that promise anymore,” he says.

Le made his first hire for the company in February 2023 and as of the end of 2025, the staff had grown to 15 content creators, script writers, project managers and other personnel around the world. 

Le says he’s proud of the company he’s built and his ability to accomplish his goal of helping his parents retire, but he’s not done yet.

“I want [ShortsCut] to be doing $100 million [in revenue] in about five years,” Le says. “It’s a bit delusional, but … you’ve got to be a little bit delusional to play this game.”

Conversions from Canadian dollars to USD were done using the OANDA conversion rate of 0.73 CAD to $1 USD on Dec. 31, 2025. All amounts are rounded to the nearest dollar.

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On a brisk October afternoon, Ruin — a 15-month-old Dutch Shepherd mix puppy with a dark brindle coat and one floppy ear — takes a break from an obstacle course and perches on a red wooden box inside a barn in Livingston, Montana.

His head sinks into the crook of a Svalinn trainer’s arm, as the trainer deems Ruin one of his favorites. Two hours later, the trainer — now in a foam Michelin-man neck-to-heel suit — crouches near the box, imitating a quiet intruder. He cracks a whip onto a rubber mat. Ruin darts across the barn, leaping teeth-first into that same arm, holding his bite until another trainer yells, “Out.”

Svalinn breeds, raises and sells $175,000 dogs like Ruin who are trained to protect, live and travel with wealthy families. Up to 46 mixed-breed canines at a time live on the company’s 170-acre ranch — located in a town of 9,000 residents, 29 miles east of Bozeman — until they’re roughly age 2. Svalinn brought in $2.97 million in total income and was profitable in 2024, according to documents reviewed by CNBC Make It. (The business hasn’t finalized its 2025 financials.)

After the drill, Ruin rolls onto his back, then licks a reporter’s nose. “What we just saw was a perfect example of the ‘on switch’ and the ‘off switch,’” Svalinn co-founder and president Kim Greene says. “To be able to deploy your dog and get them back into obedience, in just a nanosecond, is a really practiced art.”

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Greene, 51, launched the company, initially called Ridgeback Ltd., in Nairobi, Kenya, in 2005 with her then-husband. It focused on security advising, self-defense training and chaperoning high-profile diplomats through unsafe areas, Greene says.

The business was exciting, stressful and expensive to run, especially while raising twin boys, she says. “We were broke as a joke for a lot of years, so I didn’t even have the luxury of thinking about personal finances. We were hanging on for dear life,” says Greene.

Now, Svalinn has never been financially healthier, she says. And it’s in the right place at the right time: When the company moved to the U.S. in 2013, Greene didn’t know how popular Bozeman would become, especially for wealthy families willing to spend on personal security.

Even if you can afford a Svalinn dog, Greene will try talking you out of the purchase, she says: “This is not a product that’s for everybody. It just isn’t.”

The canines are meant to be family dogs who happen to be highly perceptive and “deployable” if a threat approaches. The company spends two years training each dog in protection, stability, obedience, socialization, agility and, occasionally, scenarios tailored to the pup’s intended family. Svalinn even taught a dog how to ride a horse, trainers say.

Svalinn hires trainers from many different backgrounds — even prioritizing candidates without dog-training experience — so the dogs get used to hearing commands from a variety of voices, says Greene. “Our [clients] don’t need to have superpowers or massive muscles or to bark orders,” she says. “We are laypeople. The dogs are going to laypeople. The dogs have to feel very comfortable knowing that kind of individual.”

A trainer personally delivers each dog to its permanent home and spends about three days teaching the family how to work with the canine, Greene says. Often, the trainer returns 45 days later for a check-in, and many owners later bring their dog to the ranch for boarding and training alongside the younger pups, says Greene.

One customer, retired U.S. Air Force major and Delta Air Lines pilot Stephen Mazzola, says he was attracted to Svalinn over competitors because of the website’s tagline, which emphasizes the dogs’ approachability alongside their discipline: “Bred to love. Trained to protect.”

Mazzola wanted a dog who could be a best friend and keep an eye on his family’s 15-acre property in rural Montana, he says. Their Dutch Shepherd mix Jet has traveled, hiked and attended dinner parties with Mazzola and his wife since April 2024, he says.

“As far as being a member of the family, that is the thing I can’t even put a price tag on,” says Mazzola.

Svalinn’s earliest iteration didn’t involve dogs at all.

Greene met her husband in Afghanistan, where she’d worked as policy advisor to former Afghanistan President Hamid Karzai, she says. They moved to Nairobi, one of three major African travel hubs, to start Ridgeback — his “passion project,” she says.

When Greene became pregnant, she researched how to safely navigate Nairobi without a firearm or bodyguard. The couple adopted a Dutch Shepherd mix, Banshee, to “be both my best friend as well as my protector,” she says.

People kept their distance from Banshee’s brindle coat and intense stares, almost as if she was a forcefield, says Greene. Greene’s husband decided to incorporate protection dogs to Ridgeback’s other safety offerings, and the company sent employees to the U.S. to learn how to train the canines, Greene says.

Eight years in, Ridgeback had yet to turn a profit, and the family left Nairobi, Greene says. Terrorism threats had increased in the area and Greene wanted a more hands-on education for her first-grade sons, she says. They moved to Wyoming, and then Montana, seeking an outdoor lifestyle for their children. They also wanted their business to operate near pockets of wealth, Greene adds.

Launching in the U.S. felt like starting over, Greene says. The couple flew 30 dogs overseas, filed for new licenses, changed the company’s name and invested in branding and public relations. Svalinn focused entirely on protection dogs by 2015 and became profitable for the first time two years later, after the couple hired a budget-focused employee, says Greene.

But starting over was costly in other ways, Greene says: “We were dead set on making this happen, and it came at a very high price to our lifestyle … My former husband and I were always into the absolute hardest mountain that we could climb.” The couple divorced in 2019 and Greene’s ex-husband left Svalinn in 2020, with an investor buying a majority of the company’s equity. (Greene declined to name the investor.)

Greene initially wanted to sell her shares of the company, but “when I realized Svalinn was a blank slate, that it wasn’t someone else’s story anymore, that it was my story, I got really excited,” she says. “I realized I actually really love what I do.”

When Svalinn moved to Montana, Greene invited prospective clients to the ranch and heard “crickets on the other end” of the phone, she says. “Now, five years later, the answer is, ‘We’ve been looking to come there’ or ‘We come there once a year.’”

The American West sports a growing population of wealthy residents and tourists for multiple reasons: national parks, nostalgia for rural lifestyles and the absence of estate, inheritance and sales taxes, says Yale University sociology professor Justin Farrell, author of 2020 book “Billionaire Wilderness: The Ultra-Wealthy and the Remaking of the American West.”

The ultra-wealthy are also investing in their personal and family’s security, a trend amplified by incidents of public violence toward public figures, says James Hamilton, founder of Hamilton Security Group and a former FBI special agent. Many billionaires have comprehensive security programs, which could include protection dogs, surveillance cameras, safe rooms and a fleet of staff, Hamilton says.

Svalinn’s clients aren’t usually billionaires, Greene notes, but the business is still a logical beneficiary of the trend. Yet Greene doesn’t want to train a dog for every interested buyer, she says, to protect the brand’s exclusivity and quality control. “I would much rather stay boutique and very bespoke,” she says.

Despite once referring to herself as a “reluctant leader,” Greene says she finally feels comfortable with the business and her place within it. “This is my dream life, and it’s wrapped up in my dream job,” she says. “It’s wrapped up in a business that encompasses my whole life with my children … being in this beautiful place [and] doing the activities that I love with people I love being with.”

After the October day of training, Greene takes her own dog, Highlander, onto a small hill overlooking the ranch. They see the barn, snuggled in a valley between snow-capped mountains, cloaked in amber grass and sagebrush.

After a moment of quiet, they walk back down the hill toward the barn. Together, they disappear inside.

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It’s a familiar scene: Your kid is stuck on a problem or upset about a situation. Before they’ve even finished explaining, you swoop in with solutions. That’s what good parents do, right?

But when rescuing becomes routine, it undermines the skills kids need to build confidence and resilience. As a clinical psychologist who works with anxious children, teens and parents, and as a parent myself, I know how quickly loving support can turn into overparenting. 

Overparenting blends overinvolvement with overprotection, repeatedly signaling to kids that the world is unsafe and that they can’t handle challenges without adult support. This can chip away at confidence, deepening dependence and amplifying anxiety.

Here are five signs you might be overparenting, and what kids actually need in order to grow and thrive.

When kids struggle, many parents instinctively step in. This might look like negotiating reduced courseloads, intervening with a friend’s parents, or rearranging schedules to minimize discomfort. 

But kids can’t become confident problem-solvers unless they are given the chance to try, stumble and succeed on their own.

What to do: Pause before offering solutions. Then ask, “What do you think you could try?” This encourages independent thinking and teaches kids that their ideas matter.

Many parents worry that experiencing anxiety, sadness or frustration is somehow harmful. This can drive constant reassurance, distraction or attempts to “fix” every upset: “Don’t be sad, let’s do something fun!”

But painful feelings are a natural part of life, and learning to cope with them is essential to healthy development.

What to do: Normalize and name the emotion, then express confidence in your kid’s ability to cope with painful feelings: “It makes sense that you feel frustrated, and I know you can handle it.”

One subtle overparenting pattern is adjusting expectations based on what we fear our child can’t handle, rather than what they’re capable of learning to manage. 

We lower the bar to prevent upset — excusing kids from practice, lessons or other routines because it might be tiring or stressful — and filter all feedback to buffer hurt feelings. This helps our kid feel better in the moment, but expecting fragility can inadvertently teach children to see themselves as fragile.

What to do: Ask yourself whether your expectations fit your child’s age and abilities. Are the challenges they face truly risky, or just uncomfortable? Offer support that helps them grow, rather than shielding them from every difficulty.

Overparenting often emphasizes results — preventing mistakes, smoothing feelings or guaranteeing success — rather than teaching kids how to navigate setbacks. 

This might look like negotiating group assignments with a teacher to ensure your kid gets the “perfect” project partners, arguing with a coach over a disappointing decision, or micromanaging every step in a craft to make sure it’s done correctly. But true growth comes when expectations falter and kids learn to adapt.

What to do: Let mistakes happen. Resist the urge to retrieve forgotten homework, argue a bad grade or buy a treat after a disappointing performance. Support your child as they problem-solve, adapt and learn from the process.

Many overparenting behaviors stem from adult discomfort and fears about failure, judgment or long-term consequences. 

This could look like calling a friend’s parents after a minor disagreement out of concern about social fallout, or hovering over homework because you are anxious about your kid’s performance. While well-intentioned, it’s easy for kids to interpret this behavior as a lack of parental confidence in them, planting seeds of doubt in their own abilities.

What to do: Pause and reflect: “Is this about their safety, or my discomfort with seeing them struggle?” Model how to tolerate discomfort when there’s no immediate solution.

Overparenting often stems from love and protection, yet shielding kids from every challenge can heighten the anxiety we hope to prevent. Swing too far the other way, and neglect breeds the same result.

The key is balance: guide without controlling, support without rescuing, coach while trusting. Resilience develops when kids feel secure enough to try and free enough to learn on their own.

Dr. Meredith Elkins is a clinical psychologist specializing in anxiety disorders in children and parents. She is faculty at Harvard Medical School, co-director of the McLean Anxiety Mastery Program at McLean Hospital and is the author of ”Parenting Anxiety: Breaking the Cycle of Worry and Raising Resilient Kids.”

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Mornings are one of the most underestimated aspects of a relationship. For many working couples, they’re something to rush through on the way to the day ahead. Alarms go off, phones come out, coffee is gulped down, and before either partner is fully awake, they’re already headed into separate days.

But as a psychologist who studies couples, and as a husband, I’ve seen that the happiest couples use their mornings productively to make sure they leave the house knowing they’re on the same team.

Here’s what they do differently that most neglect.

Your partner shouldn’t be seen as an obstacle you have to get around in the morning. Even on busy days, happy couples make a point to acknowledge one another before shifting into work mode.

That often means making eye contact when saying “good morning” or sharing coffee or tea together without distractions. These moments may seem mundane, but research shows relationships thrive on small “bids” for attention that signal recognition and care.

Skipping them entirely can leave partners feeling emotionally invisible before the day has even begun.

Mornings aren’t ideal for heavy conversations. Cortisol levels are naturally elevated upon waking, meaning your body is already primed for stress. Trying to tackle nuance or conflict too early can activate that response even more.

The happiest couples understand this intuitively. Before diving into logistics or complaints, they take a moment to sync: sitting quietly together, sharing coffee on the couch, or simply standing side by side while doing their morning routines.

Even a few moments of silent togetherness can regulate the nervous system and make the day feel more manageable.

Rather than full emotional check-ins, happy couples keep morning communication light, but still honest. Each partner shares one sentiment regarding their current feelings:

• “I’m feeling a bit anxious about today.”
• “I’m excited but exhausted.”
• “I’m not fully awake yet.”

They’re not revolutionary, but they’re necessary for giving context to moods and behavior the other will see later on. It’s much easier to understand your partner’s short temper when you remember that they had a stressful meeting that day.

This could be five minutes of cuddles before getting up, walking the dogs together or cooking breakfast while listening to their song. The point is for it to be simple enough for you to repeat daily without struggle.

Having habits like these — routines or rituals that you can call “our thing” — can serve as surprisingly strong reaffirmations of your identity as a couple.

In many relationships, physical affection in the morning gets reduced to a rushed goodbye kiss on the cheek, if that. But happier couples don’t budge on this. They use touch intentionally to ground themselves.

Spooning, long hugs, proper kisses or simply just leaning into each other for a moment before leaving — regardless of what suits you, any kind of physical contact like this can activate oxytocin and calm the nervous system, which helps both partners feel steadier as they separate.

Mornings can get messy if one partner is expected to bear the brunt of the household’s mental or physical load.

Happy couples reduce this by treating mornings as a shared operation. If there are tasks that have to get done before work, like prepping lunch, feeding pets, or getting the kids ready, they divide them up mindfully and adjust when one partner is struggling. 

It doesn’t have to look like perfect fairness every day. Just ensuring that no one’s plate is too full goes a long way in protecting goodwill.

Before parting ways, the happiest couples will always offer at least one small yet specific gesture of support:

• “Good luck with your presentation today.”
• “You’ve got this.”
• “Text me if you need a pep talk.”

While they won’t change the day’s demands, they can make the demands feel easier to manage. More importantly, they show your partner that you’re emotionally attuned to the things that matter to them, even if you’re physically present.

Mark Travers, PhD, is a psychologist who specializes in relationships. He holds degrees from Cornell University and the University of Colorado Boulder. He is the lead psychologist at Awake Therapy, a telehealth company that provides online psychotherapy, counseling, and coaching. He is also the curator of the popular mental health and wellness website, Therapytips.org.

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