Co-founder reflections: 6 reasons I left the corporate world
Ten years in corporate roles taught me a lot. Mostly about what doesn’t work. I left to start Taylor Street when it became clear that the same systemic problems kept failing people. Here’s what I saw, and how it shapes the way I work today as a communications consultant.
1. I was shouting into the void.
The more time I spent in the corporate world, the less I felt my opinion mattered. People wanted my feedback from all angles — in person, in surveys, at the team level, the department level and the organizational level — but rarely did anything with it.
The typical response was, “Thanks for your feedback” or “We hear you.” And then… crickets. I kept asking myself: Why are they asking the questions if nothing comes of the answers?
Eventually, it clicked. Sometimes organizations are just checking a box when they send out a survey or ask a room full of people for their thoughts. Other times, they genuinely care but don’t have the tools, clarity or courage to act on what they hear.
The result is the same either way. Employees get tired of feeling unheard and eventually stop speaking up.
Why it matters now
I never want employees to feel the way I did about feedback at work. So, it’s my job to help leaders ask the right questions and truly listen to what their people are saying. That means knowing how to collect, prioritize and act on feedback — and being clear about what can’t be addressed and why.
2. Honesty was too rare.
The older I get, the less tolerance I have for “polite” lies. Corporate settings are full of conversations where people say things they don’t mean, like:
“I loved working with him on this project!” when you didn’t.
“I have more room on my plate,” when you don’t.
“Let’s circle back on that,” when you won’t.
And it’s not always because people are devious (though some are). More often, it’s fear. Fear of making others uncomfortable. Fear of retaliation. Fear that speaking honestly won’t change anything anyway. Whatever the reason, it usually comes back to leadership not rewarding honesty when it’s inconvenient.
I’ve worked for companies that preached honesty and transparency as core values but stopped there. One organization pushed “radical candor” constantly — in town halls, pamphlets and one-on-ones — but punished it in practice. As one of the more vocal employees on my team, I was labeled “opinionated,” “resistant” and “oppositional.” Never to my face, of course.
Why it matters now
I have a simple rule: If I don’t mean it, I won’t say it. It sounds easy, but it isn’t. It means resisting the urge to default to “I’m good” when I’m not, or having the courage to contradict an “important” person. And I encourage everyone I work with to take on the same mindset, because you can’t lead change if people don’t feel safe to tell the truth. That belief shapes every communication strategy I build.
3. Performance felt like punishment.
Being a top performer at work is like being a straight-A student in a group project — you end up doing all the work.
That’s why I was so frustrated as a skilled, conscientious employee. The more valuable I became, the more I was expected to carry other people’s dead weight. No one knows? Carly will figure it out. No one cares? Carly does. No one wants to help her? She’ll help herself.
I’ve also seen countless consistently average employees get promoted over people who were clearly more qualified. Not because they were better leaders, but because they were less valuable on the front lines. The work still needed to get done, and the strongest contributors were too important to move.
Why it matters now
I can’t control who companies choose to promote, but I can help them make people’s lives easier through better communication. The last thing top performers need is to be overwhelmed or confused by internal messages. When leaders know how to capture attention, respect time, implement feedback and inspire action, they have a real shot at retaining the people they rely on most.
4. Everything was urgent.
Anyone who’s worked in the corporate world knows the feeling. You pour your time and energy into something, only to be told it’s no longer a priority. Instead, you’re asked to drop everything and pivot to something else. Then it happens again. And again. Round and round we go on the hamster wheel.
As a writer, I’ve been asked to develop countless commercial scripts, campaign taglines and crisis communications that never saw the light of day. Because I was good at my job, I was treated like a creative machine that never ran out of ideas, capacity or energy. That assumption wasted a lot of great work and led to years of burnout.
Why it matters now
A culture of perpetual fire drills doesn’t just exhaust people; it destroys their ability to recognize what’s truly urgent when it actually matters. Especially during times of change, I help leaders put clear priorities in their messages. When employees know what comes first — and what can wait — they feel respected. And when people feel respected, they’re far more willing to engage, adapt and act.
5. My creativity suffered.
For a long time, I didn’t realize how much the corporate environment was chipping away at my creative confidence. I started as a writer with unshakeable instincts, and I became one who barely trusted myself to place a comma.
There were too many cooks in the kitchen and no clear owner of the work. Creative projects were endlessly reviewed, revised and watered down in the name of “alignment.” By the time something was approved, it barely resembled the original idea that made it compelling in the first place.
Over time, that process does real damage. You start second-guessing your instincts. You stop bringing your best ideas to the table because you already know how the story ends. For a while, I wondered if I was the problem. But I wasn’t. The system was.
Why it matters now
I’m deeply protective of clarity, ownership and trust in the creative process. In my work with clients, I push hard to clarify roles and make sure feedback is meaningful and actually necessary. True creativity only happens when people are trusted to do the work they were hired to do.
6. The politics were real.
In some ways, the workplace can feel like high school. The gossip. The cliques. The unspoken rules about who has influence and who doesn’t. It’s exhausting, especially when you care about the work and just want to do your job well.
What made it worse was seeing this behavior modeled or tolerated by leadership. When leaders play favorites, spread information selectively or engage in quiet judgment, it sends a clear message about who belongs and who doesn’t. Even in a job you love, that kind of environment can make you feel isolated, guarded or small.
Politics don’t just hurt feelings. They slowly change how people show up — making them quieter, more cautious and far less willing to take risks.
Why it matters now
I pay close attention to the signals leaders send, not just through what they say, but through what they tolerate. Culture is shaped in the margins, and communication plays a huge role in whether people feel included or excluded; safe or scrutinized. A big part of my work is helping leaders think through the implications of what they say and how they say it.
From cubicles to clarity
I left corporate life because I realized I couldn’t effect the change I wanted while juggling a full-time job. That’s why I made this my full-time work: helping organizations communicate clearly, roll out change without burning people out, and create workplaces where employees feel seen and respected. The lessons I learned from those years still guide every strategy, message and plan I build today.
Want to get to know me (and my amazing business partner, Ava) a little better? Here’s our story.
