Oops, I did it again

Part 2

"If they offer me this job, I'll say no."

I said that out loud. At dinner. To a friend. The night of my interviews.

The opportunity had checked every box on paper. A brand name everyone recognized. A city I loved. A role that brought together everything I had built over the course of my career. When they called me in to interview, I was thrilled.

Then I met the people.

The first interviewer was everything you hope for — great energy, thoughtful questions, genuine enthusiasm about the role and the team. A peer. A good sign.

The next two were not.

One director kept circling back to experiences I didn't have — and that the role did not require. After the third variation of the same question, I said it plainly: "If this role requires that type of experience, I'm not sure I'm the right person for it." He insisted it didn't and moved on. Weird, but noted.

The next interviewer looked at my military background — I had recently retired from the Navy Reserve as a Public Affairs Officer — and asked how I thought I'd fit culturally at their company, given that I spent so long in an authoritarian environment. I took a breath and explained that military culture is far more complex and varied than most people realize. In my role as a PAO, I led a team of journalists. Leadership and trust are earned anywhere — in any branch, any unit, any organization. My team did exceptional work, and I believe they enjoyed working with me.

The final interview was with the VP who would be my ultimate boss. She was great.

Two out of four. Yet, I sat at dinner that night and said out loud what I knew would be true.

They didn't follow up for almost two weeks. No word, no signal, nothing. Then a call from the recruiter — not with an offer but asking for compensation details. I pumped the brakes. I had real concerns, I told them. The four interviews had described the role differently. I wasn't confident that everyone agreed on what this job actually was. I requested another conversation with the VP.

She was traveling internationally. Not available.

Instead, they offered a call with the same director whose interview had gone so badly. The recruiter assured me he and the VP were completely aligned. It would be just like talking to her.

It was not just like talking to her.

But he was in full convincing mode. And despite everything I had seen, everything I had said out loud at that dinner table, when the offer came, I said yes.

Who says no to a big brand name and a job that could be amazing?

My first day, no one was there to greet me.

An admin for one of the directors had been asked to schedule my immersion meetings — a calendar full of names with no titles, no context, no indication of why I was meeting any of them. She made it clear before I could even ask that she was not my admin and that I should not expect this kind of help in the future.

The VP was out of town. Then she was busy. Word came through that I should take my time getting to know people and focus on the immersion meetings.

By the end of my second week, I had no traction on what I was actually supposed to be doing. I kept asking the executive admin to schedule time with the VP. She wouldn't. By Friday, I walked to her desk and said that if I don't meet with the VP today, I won't be back on Monday.

We had lunch.

The VP was everything I had hoped. She clarified the role. She had a clear vision. She eased my mind.

Then she got promoted and transferred to Hong Kong.

What I learned after that could fill a book. I was the fourth person in four years to hold that job. The person who had it before me, still at the company, told me she had been broken by the time she was able to transfer out. The peer managers in the group actively worked to undermine me. When I helped a former boss get hired to lead one of those teams, she was stunned by what she witnessed. She tried to make it easier.

When I finally quit, the former boss I had helped hire told me she wasn't surprised — just that it had taken me so long.

Once again, I'll remind you — this is a well-respected company with talented people doing good work. It simply wasn't the right place for me.

As for what took me so long — that's the more honest question, isn't it? Even though I was cry-in-my-cubicle miserable, leaving without a safety net is terrifying — and it took time to build up the courage to jump.

You can ignore your gut once. Maybe twice. At some point, it stops whispering and starts costing you something real.

In the next post, I'll walk you through what I now ask clients — and myself — when that quiet voice starts trying to get your attention.