Exit Interview: The Life and Death of My Ambitious Career

by Kristi Coulter

He says the line aloud in a no-exclamation-mark tone. “Oh true, that’s a bit grim. My other question is whether you considered adding the word ‘just,’ as in ‘Really, you can just go!’” “We did,” I say, gesturing toward Megan, my counterpart for visual design. “But those four extra characters don’t add much impact, and if anything I worry that they sound a bit impatient.” All true, but I’m willing to capitulate on the “just” if there’s much pushback.

But my compassion starts to slide a few weeks later, when Jasper taps on my doorway and asks if I have a second to chat about the Seared Salmon with Broccoli Rabe. “I noticed you spelled ‘rabe’ with a b,” he says. “But I’m pretty sure ‘rape’ is the more common spelling.” “Yeah, that was a four-way judgment call. There’s also ‘raab’ and ‘rapini,’” I say, jotting them on my whiteboard. “AP doesn’t list a preference, but of the big recipe websites, most use ‘rabe,’ so that’s how I made my decision.” My use of “decision” instead of “recommendation” is not accidental. “What I generally do in that case is look at some of the top online recipe sites and see if there’s a consensus,” I say. “Of the six sites I checked, four used ‘rabe’ and two ‘raab.’” By now I’m accustomed to random men telling me we should change this or that word because they “don’t like it,” and I’m done explaining nicely that I’m not just pulling the store’s vocabulary out of my ass and don’t have time to argue about every little thing based on some guy’s feeling. “Are you sure?” Jasper asks. “Because I just really feel like I see ‘rape’ much more frequently.” “I am,” I say. “Epicurious, Bon Appétit, Food52—they all use ‘rabe.’ Honestly, I was surprised myself by the strength of the consensus.” That’s a lie. I wasn’t remotely surprised that all those sites picked the non-sex-crime spelling. I’m just trying to give him a graceful way not to die on this hill. But he doesn’t want my grace. “Well, I can see you’ve...

Of course I’ll get a real exit interview, right? I do not. I get a link to a form, with instructions to submit it within two days of my departure. I know I could pitch a fit, demand an in-person meeting. But I also know I won’t. I spend my last two hours filling out the form. I write hundreds of words about the thrill and the damage, about never feeling bored and also never feeling safe. I write about being the only woman in so many rooms, and about all the ways Amazon made me smarter and all the ways it damaged me. I express gratitude for being allowed to reinvent myself at will, to make wild career moves that wouldn’t fly in the straight world. I say I expect to know and love some of the people I’ve met here for the rest of my life. I say I’m leaving with no more understanding of how to get promoted than I had the day I arrived. I say that Amazon set the stage for my addiction, but that sobriety has been manageable here, too. The final question is yes/no: “Would you recommend Amazon as an employer to others?” I stare at the choices for several minutes before clicking no. At ten to five, I figure I’ve said enough and hit the Submit button. The page hangs. The hourglass spins and spins. Amazon is being Amazon to the end, I think, but maybe I’ve already started to shed my Amazonness, because despite all the docs and notes I’ve lost to the intranet void, I didn’t think to save my exit interview on my hard drive. Finally, in panic-induced thoughtlessness, I hit the Back butto...

I've experienced this many times: spending a lot of effort writing feedback or typing a long response to a form, only for it to time out and disappear. Additionally, there are those end-of-employment links that stop working once you lose access to your previous workplace's intranet. It seems like these systems aren't thoroughly tested, and few people bother to inform their former employers about these flaws. Even if they did, it's unlikely much would be done to ensure the links function outside the intranet.