I spent years at companies you've heard of, working on products used by millions. The compensation was excellent. The problems were technically interesting. By most measures, I'd made it.
I left anyway.
The Meaning Problem
Here's what they don't tell you about big tech: scale can make work feel less meaningful, not more. When your contribution is a rounding error on a rounding error of a massive system, it's hard to feel like you matter.
I fixed bugs that affected millions of users, and I felt nothing. I shipped features that drove metrics, and I couldn't explain why those metrics mattered. The work was fine. It just didn't feel like mine.
The Optimization Trap
Big tech optimizes relentlessly. That's its superpower and its curse. Everything becomes a metric to improve. And when you're inside that machine long enough, you start optimizing yourself—your career, your output, your life—without asking what you're optimizing for.
"I was climbing efficiently. I just wasn't sure I was on the right mountain."
What I Do Now
I work on smaller things now. Enterprise software that maybe a few thousand people will ever use. A side project that might never launch. The scale is laughably small compared to before.
But I can see the humans on the other side. I can explain why the work matters in terms that don't require a dashboard. And for the first time in years, I'm building things that feel like mine.
The money is worse. Everything else is better.