Why I left My Corporate Job
SAVORING SLOWLY
The Jump
Leaving corporate was never in the cards for me. But then again, working in corporate never was either. After graduating from university, I knew I would be set on a path to success, even though I wasn't entirely sure what that meant. Working in an art museum at the time, I found out too quickly that success, at least the kind I could see in front of me, wasn't there. To be successful, which to me at the time meant to make money, you needed to learn, understand, and excel at the corporate level. I'll be the first to say it: I was wrong.
The day I left my corporate job will long live in my memory. The realization that I was on my own; the paycheck that was coming would be the last of its kind for a while. That alone was very, very scary. But what was scarier to me, was staying and never taking more for myself. For a long time, I thought leaving would feel like failure. I couldn't stick it out, I wasn't patient enough, I couldn't creatively problem solve my way out. But what I didn't realize was that all the time I had been climbing the mountain, celebrating milestones and years with the company, I was working towards an expectation at the peak that more was coming. More was earned. Until I kept finding myself at the top of that same mountain with all of that hope, frustration, and courage. Nothing was going to change unless I changed it for myself. So, instead of walking back down, I jumped. And I flew.
Giving Your All
To paint a broader picture, let's back things up a few years. Three years ago I joined a thriving business, a brand I stood behind, and a place that was genuinely fulfilling to work at. And I gave it everything. As an Anthropologist first, and in all of my roles, I studied the people. From coworkers to customers, I knew the ins and outs of the people surrounding this brand that made it successful from the inside out.
In my role, I was not just good, I was the kind of good where both employees and customers started asking for me by name. I learned the products inside and out. I learned the customers who bought them and why. I could discern what they actually wanted versus what they said they wanted. I built relationships with people across the company's functions: anyone who could teach me something and who I could connect with. My rule was simple: I either know the answer, or I know exactly who does. Either way, whatever the problem is, we will get it fixed.
By my second year, I wasn't just doing my job. I was learning the whole business, on purpose, not just because that was what the role asked of me, but because I wanted to learn, to grow, to thrive. As time progressed with my paychecks and personal benchmarks, it came time for a change in title and scenery. Within this specific company, I identified, networked, and began to make space for myself to land on a new team, pursue their vision, and continue to generate success for the brand as a whole. Here, I had the opportunity to be creative and strategic at the same time, and I chased that feeling hard.
Leading up to this I had made myself indispensable. I knew the inner workings of the company and most importantly, what the customers wanted. That kind of knowledge has power. I put it to work in the rooms most junior people don't get invited into. I paved all of that. Nobody handed it to me.
Building Someone Else's Dream
Here's the part that's harder to say plainly: I did all of that work, and then I didn't get to keep it.
With an expected internal transition bookmarked for February of 2025, I was geared up for a new change. A new challenge. That never came. The company shifted things around, tariffs happened, and the cards were not in my favor. I can confidently say that that was okay. I knew it would eventually work itself out, and so I waited. February became March. March became April. April became May. And there I was, alone at the top of the mountain.
I want to make something extremely clear here: I hold the utmost respect, appreciation, and love for this brand. Walking away was hard for so many reasons, one of the main ones being that I genuinely loved working there, the people, and their mission. This was not walking away because of money, mistreatment, and anything malignant, and that made it all the more impactful. But I'd spent two years building toward a specific version of myself inside that company, and when it came time to step into it, there was nowhere to step. There was nowhere else that I personally could pave. And that was when building someone else's dream became frustrating.
The Room Where It Happens
Longtime readers of The Boop know I've circled this one before, it's my favorite song from the Hamilton Soundtrack for a reason. For years, I envisioned myself and worked tirelessly to be in the room where it happens. The room where decisions get made, where money gets spent, where the people who take the risks and learn from the mistakes get to keep moving. This was my dream: I wanted to learn about how a good business works both inside and out. I was dedicated to finding this answer and learning along the way. I spent two years trying to earn my way into that room, learning everything I could, becoming the person who knew the answer or knew who did. I just didn't realize the room I was chasing there was never going to have my name on the door.
So I built my own. My own door, my own room, my own presence. I took with me the knowledge from previous roles, the guidance from beloved mentors, the confidence of a CEO.
These days, I don't wait to be let into rooms. I am the room. I decide what gets made, big wins and losses, what to spend my energy on, what gets adopted and what gets adapted. Every choice, every risk, every time. It's mine to take and mine to answer for. And there is something so powerful in that ownership alone, which is why it is so easy, and comforting, to see that I am not alone. More and more people are leaving their corporate roles, the stability, their life's work, to actually live their lives and pursue the work that to them, is worth doing. I am honored, excited, nervous, and optimistic for what this will hold for me. For how far it will go, and how far I will grow.
