Why I left the most supportive company in the world

Setting the scene

Those of you that know me well know that I’m not one for being an active contributor when it comes to social media (in fact, this is my very 1st LinkedIn post), but having spent nearly 3 years of my life in one of the most amazing companies with so many incredible people, I felt compelled to take to LinkedIn to share my story.

I joined Medallia in the summer of 2015 when the lure of a Silicon Valley technology company became too difficult to resist. As the youngest salesperson they had ever hired globally, I was surrounded by seasoned pros and felt suitably out of my depth! This was the challenge I was craving and after lots of long days and late nights (both fuelled by a limitless supply of Medallia’s signature avocados) I felt as though I had found my rhythm.

On the personal front, things couldn’t be rosier, I was due to get married early February 2016, which was to be followed by a honeymoon in Mauritius and to top it off, we were expecting our first baby due late May. Then, at 11pm the night before the wedding, when numerous close friends and family were propping up the hotel bar in anticipation of the big day, I received the worst phone call of my life...My fiancé had gone into preterm labour and the wedding was off. Our son, Finn, was born at just 24 weeks gestation, weighing a little over 700 grams (1.5 pounds) but, miraculously, after multiple life saving surgeries and 118 days in intensive care across 3 different hospitals, we managed to bring him home.

Cue Medallia

For Medallia’s response, I will be eternally and overwhelmingly grateful. As an adjective, flexible doesn’t even come close to articulating Medallia’s approach to helping me overcome and ride out the situation myself and my family had been thrust into. In effect, and I’ll do my best to explain, Medallia allowed me to become completely malleable; on a personal level I felt that I needed to be by my critically ill newborn son for as many hours the day would allow. On a professional level, I was still relatively new to my role at Medallia and I urgently felt the need (albeit self imposed) to prove myself, perform, and become a respected member of the team.

I struggled to see how I could possibly make the two balance.

After the whirlwind that was the first couple of weeks passed, the medical team sat us down and articulated that if we were lucky enough for him to continue to pull through, we would still be looking at months in intensive care and a limitless number of possibilities of ongoing health issues and complications even if we got that far.

We were being coached for a marathon and the advice they were giving us was clear- “go too hard too fast and you won’t last”.

The more I shared what was happening at the hospital with Medallia, the more they continued to bend over backwards to find a solution that would work for me from a work perspective. Whilst they made it very clear that if I wanted to I could just completely disconnect and come back whenever I was ready, this approach didn’t sit well with me.

The agreement we had was that when circumstances allowed and I felt as though I could contribute, then I would do just that. This meant dialling into calls and working from hospital canteens / parents’ rooms / anywhere close enough to run back to the unit, but far enough away for the atmosphere and intense, terrifying activity of the ICU not to distract me. As more weeks passed and we experienced some short periods of stability in the hospital, I started to pop into the office and attend some external meetings. But my colleagues, clients and prospects were aware of my situation and that if the phone rang, I would have to make a swift exit.

Whilst this arrangement really was perfect for me and gave me access to the sense of “normal” that the medical team had predicated we would be craving, I am well aware that it wasn’t perfect for all other parties, so I am indebted to my colleagues and clients for bearing with me.

Returning to work

After 118 days in intensive care, Finn was discharged from hospital and I returned full time to work the following day. I felt such an overwhelming pull to return Medallia’s loyalty that even though it was encouraged by them, the thought of taking any more time off to settle our “newborn” into our home felt like taking a liberty to me, and my wife agreed. It was time to pick up life where we had left off and return to some semblance of structure and normality, just with our little one now in tow.

In many ways I felt like a new-starter again; lots of unfamiliarity and imposter syndrome set in, but these feelings didn’t last too long and soon enough I was thriving in my role. It was so satisfying to be a fully integrated member of the team, but the transition from my desk/meeting room to the kitchen, I had to switch persona.  Naturally and kindly, I was asked regularly for updates on Finn’s health and whilst being happy to share, in these fleeting conversations I realised that each time I felt a knot in my stomach as my identity was shunted back to ‘father of an ill child’.

With the intensity of work building, going home at night wasn’t the idyllic setting I’d hoped it would be; every evening turning into a medical debrief of the day’s appointments and a handover for me to do the “night shift”, I felt thinly stretched. Whilst I was happy to continue to plough through this, and hope for improvements as time went on, I  began to see that this wasn’t sustainable.

Back to hospital...

Unfortunately, by the summer of 2017, Finn’s health began to deteriorate rapidly and after another horrid 6 months of more uncertainty, multiple hospital admissions for investigations, confusion and frustrating misdiagnoses, the doctors eventually discovered he has a rare condition which has meant more surgeries and extended stays in hospital.

In January, balancing hospital life and work commitments became impossible. Tuesday afternoon, 9th January I was in the office when I received a call from the hospital telling me that I needed to get there as quickly as I could as Finn was not in a good way. I pulled my boss aside and started to explain the circumstances and that I would have to resign as I could not keep up this balancing act any longer. He stopped me in my tracks, refused to let me continue talking and told me in no uncertain terms to get to the hospital. I was told to completely down tools for 3 weeks, turn off my laptop, put on my out of office and that we would pick up the conversation at the end of the month.

When I walked out that afternoon, it was only then that I truly understood the term “weight lifted off your shoulders”. I not only felt physically lighter, it was as though this 2 minute conversation had actually unlocked space in my brain. Even though I was rushing to hospital to be met with with a terrible situation, I had a surreal sense of calm knowing that 100% of my focus could now be invested in supporting my family.

The next few months were both dark in a literal and physical sense. Finn’s health was upsetting/sporadic and it was the longest winter we’ve had in the UK for years.

Conversations with Medallia resulted in them supporting me in taking an extended period of absence. This time around, as much as I craved the sense of normal, we were dealing with a different set of circumstances and I didn’t have the emotional or intellectual capacity to do what I did the last time.

Such prolonged uncertainty and trauma in my personal life had unknowingly taken its toll on me and it wasn’t until I slowed down that I realised by how much.

Leaving Medallia?

If I were reading this, I would be thinking exactly the same; why on earth would you even consider parting ways with such an incredibly supportive company? Whilst I feel so fortunate to have worked at such a groundbreaking company with so many talented individuals, my time at Medallia was plagued and tarnished with issues with my son’s health. I didn’t think it was fair to Medallia that I couldn’t commit to a return date and despite them telling me this wasn’t an issue, again it didn’t sit right with me.

The more I thought about my work situation, the more I realised that when circumstances would allow me to return to work, a fresh start was what I needed. I needed to draw a line in the sand and by going back to where it had started, it would have felt like stepping back into that awful period of my life again and my work identity had become inextricable from my difficult personal life.

So, it was with a heavy heart that I officially handed in my notice.

What next?

We still have a long read ahead with Finn, but for the moment he is doing well; walking talking, throwing tantrums and playing football. Whilst we know to expect setbacks and more time in hospital, we’ll enjoy the good times whilst they last.

On the job front, my fresh start comes in the form of an exciting tech start-up called Unmind- a digital platform that is transforming mental health in the workplace. I feel incredibly fortunate that the stars have aligned and the timing couldn’t have been better for me to join a company that allows me to combine my passion for exciting technology and mental health.

Thank you

There are countless colleagues to thank at Medallia and I feel privileged to have worked alongside so many special people, but in particular I wanted to thank Martin Green and Paul Turner for sticking with me throughout, what I hope, will be the most difficult period of my life.

Nowadays, so many companies (particularly technology companies) make a big play on people and culture and my personal experience proves that in Medallia’s case, this is not something they were just paying lip service to.

Learnings

If you’ve read this far, you might be interested in a few learnings I have had on this journey to date:

Writing a blog is a form of therapy

• Whilst I have very low expectations on how many people this blog will reach, this really doesn’t bother me and the process of writing it alone has made it worthwhile so I would highly recommend it to others!

There is a reason why Great Ormond Street Hospital’s reputation precedes it

• We have met some truly inspirational people on this journey and continue to do so. It will hold a special place in our hearts forever and we will always be thankful for the wonderful NHS and the teams at not only GOSH but also at UCLH and The Whittington Hospital.

A mother’s love for their baby is greater than I ever imagined

• I speak not only from observing my wife but all the other mothers we met on the various units we were resident. My wife’s endeavour to get Finn on track has meant that because she is so well read on medical matters, I have lost count how many times doctors just assume she is a doctor also.

Inverted education

• Spending so much time with my son of late, I’ve come to the conclusion that I am learning far more from him than he is from me. Of everything I have witnessed, it is the resilience of a child that is probably the most stunning.

At some point in your career, take some time out

• I couldn’t recommend this more and whilst I know it goes against conventional wisdom to leave one job without having another to go to, I truly believe that this enabled me to see more clearly and make the right decision. (I’m well aware that circumstances and in particular, finances, play a huge role in this but if you can, give it a go, I don’t think you’ll regret it.)

Is my job meaningful?

• When you compare it to that of a nurse / doctor, of course it’s not and I battled with this a lot in the early days of intensive care. We can’t all save lives every day, but we can find a career that we are passionate about and work with great people. If you don’t solve for this, then when the proverbial hits the fan, I can’t imagine how much more difficult it makes everything seem.