The art of change

Leaving

Exiting Google was terrifying. As I talked to Googlers about my decision to leave, many of them commented on my "courage" and how they admired my "lack of fear." But I was far from fearless. Honestly, it was very difficult to leave the safety of a place I helped build for almost 11 years. I loved the company and people.

The question about why I was leaving came up many times. I found it difficult to express the reasons clearly. It would come out as a jumble of unformed thoughts. A wise person told me to just tell people, "It's not about you, it's about me." Which was true but also sounded like a break-up and not a life transforming event. The truth was deeper and more personal.

Drawing from memory

I've done acrylic painting for many years, but on a very busy schedule and with three kids, it's hard to find the time needed to do anything meaningful. At the beginning of my exit from Google I started journaling my experience with drawings. I used an iPad Pro, stylus, and the app ProCreate. It was fast and easy to get going. What follows are a series of pieces that were done while I was deciding to leave. Each drawing took about 2-3 hours and done without thinking about the plot line consciously.

At the time I was dealing with several complex reorganizations that were not fully in my control. Honestly, it felt like a series of long painful compromises. I mention this only to give the context so the drawings will make some sense. This isn't a sour grapes story. There is no blame here. The ending is positive.

The first drawing was about my original team. My teams were built with fantastic people that I had grown and nurtured for many years. They were all doing very well. For instance, one had won a series of design awards - more than any product in the company's history. All of them were delivering new technical innovation. They were good, stable, and healthy. I call this one, "Low Hanging Fruit."

Then along came Alphabet and a complex reorg. The big juicy watermelon, was to be sliced into smaller parts. The argument was that it would be more efficient if subdivided. In abstract it might be beautiful in a different way, but now the smaller parts were much more vulnerable. It was no longer a whole thing. It was parts of a thing, that were going to get eaten. This was, "A Watermelon Reorganized."

Going bananas

For a number of reasons (respecting company privacy), my larger division was continually undergoing radical change. These changes were dramatic and created a ripple of confusion and fear. To folks in my teams, the moves were increasingly cold, corporate, and lacked transparency. In earlier compositions, the fruit stood on their own. Now we needed a more complex story about why they were together. A story that was, "Increasingly Difficult To Sell."

After several quarters of change and discussion, it was clear that my original team was going to be completely transformed into something else entirely. The original teams I'd built would no longer exist and the pride and product focus that came with it had become diffused. What made the original teams special and different, a metaphorical watermelon, had vanished for me. The original clarity of purpose and vision, was replaced with complexity and nuance. The simple apple was long gone. The lime was now hiding. Garlic appeared to fend off the vampires. At the time I was pretty much, "Going bananas!"

Waking up

At the same time I was feeling discouraged by "big company" behavior, my grandmother's health suddenly declined and I rushed to be with her. It was an emergency situation and was unclear how long she had left. When faced with this type of shock, my work challenges felt pretty small and distant.

A few days prior to me arriving she had started refusing food, water, and medicine. She had taken a stand. She felt her quality of life was diminishing and was ready to go. She was my longest living grandparent at 99. It was difficult but incredibly important for me to be with her. I held her hand as she slipped away. That night I drew a tribute. I pictured her as vibrant and sassy; and in her 20s when her world was full of opportunity.

Her passing affected me as much as when my children were born. It woke me up. It transformed how I was dealing with my struggles. Her death helped me pause to think about what was truly important.

It made me wonder that if I died tomorrow, would I feel good about how I am spending my time? The answer was clearly a no. Instead of creating my own opportunity, I was keeping myself stuck and reacting. I needed to be more courageous and do what was right for me.

She would have wanted me to take more risks and to go for it, before it was too late. The more I thought about it, the more I was motivated to go toward something brand new, exciting, and where I could make a big difference. I realized that I had to leave and start a new chapter.

And that's the whole story...told through some drawings at the time. I hope it was interesting and useful.

Note from author: If you liked this, see my other articles The art of forgiving and Mom taught me about leadership. More about me at patrickcopeland.org.