Ben Morss’ Post

Last night, I looked at my phone, and there it was: a notification saying, "Work profile deleted." Finally, I was cut off from the Google universe I’d inhabited for the last 9½ years.   On March 4, I’ll be starting an exciting new job at ZocDoc, and I’d filled out a form telling Google that March 1 was my last day. I knew that soon, my colleagues, my friends around the world, our emails and chats, the groups where people share about transit delays or bad puns, all the internal resources, the documents, presentations, and code I'd created, the entire culture - would all be gone. Inaccessible. Blocked. The weird thing is, I had no idea when this would happen, because there was no one to ask. A few years ago, if you had a question about benefits or company policy, you could write to an email alias and a friendly person would get back to you with a helpful answer. Now, often you get a canned response from an offshore vendor team. There was no exit interview; no one to ask why I quit. I don’t blame Google, though. In a company with 185,878 full-time employees, spending time on one person is inefficient. I believed in Google, and it breaks my heart to see it devolving into just another big company. But this shift is not inevitable. The old and new cultures coexist, uneasily, side by side. It’s a place of bureaucracy, hierarchy, and layoffs, but it’s also a land of friendly, helpful people who are simultaneously super smart and humble. My last manager and director were so nice that I could barely leave. Overwhelmingly, what I feel is gratitude - for the people I got to know, for the opportunities Google gave me. Google took me in after I left the golden path from computer science grad to tech worker to go be an activist and a musician. It let me think up big dreams and big plans and create spontaneous teams to make them reality. We got to help countless companies speed up and improve their websites. Google gave us money to set up conferences in Pakistan, Brazil, Indonesia, and more, to use AMP to build websites people could access with cheaper phones and slower connections. It taught me how to be a Product Manager and trusted me to help shape Chrome. Ultimately, it was time for me to go. For those who remain: As Google changes and abundance is joined by scarcity, you may feel the need to watch your back, to compete for resources. My request to you: don’t. Keep that Google culture! If a teammate needs help, give it. Smile at a stranger. Say hello in the hallway. If you’re a manager, remember that your primary responsibility is to nurture your reports and give them space to grow. If you’re higher up - remember that your employees are not numbers, not data: they are people, fragile, wondrous, unique human beings. And when you leave, you have an opportunity to spread to the world the best of Google - a culture of kindness, helpfulness, and personal freedom. I can’t wait for what’s next. I'm feeling lucky!

Last night, I looked at my phone, and there it was: a notification saying, "Work profile deleted." Finally, I was cut off from the Google universe I’d inhabited for the last 9½ years.   On March 4, I’ll be starting an exciting new job at ZocDoc, and I’d filled out a form telling Google that March 1 was my last day. I knew that soon, my colleagues, my friends around the world, our emails and chats, the groups where people share about transit delays or bad puns, all the internal resources, the documents, presentations, and code I'd created, the entire culture - would all be gone. Inaccessible. Blocked. The weird thing is, I had no idea when this would happen, because there was no one to ask. A few years ago, if you had a question about benefits or company policy, you could write to an email alias and a friendly person would get back to you with a helpful answer. Now, often you get a canned response from an offshore vendor team. There was no exit interview; no one to ask why I quit. I don’t blame Google, though. In a company with 185,878 full-time employees, spending time on one person is inefficient. I believed in Google, and it breaks my heart to see it devolving into just another big company. But this shift is not inevitable. The old and new cultures coexist, uneasily, side by side. It’s a place of bureaucracy, hierarchy, and layoffs, but it’s also a land of friendly, helpful people who are simultaneously super smart and humble. My last manager and director were so nice that I could barely leave. Overwhelmingly, what I feel is gratitude - for the people I got to know, for the opportunities Google gave me. Google took me in after I left the golden path from computer science grad to tech worker to go be an activist and a musician. It let me think up big dreams and big plans and create spontaneous teams to make them reality. We got to help countless companies speed up and improve their websites. Google gave us money to set up conferences in Pakistan, Brazil, Indonesia, and more, to use AMP to build websites people could access with cheaper phones and slower connections. It taught me how to be a Product Manager and trusted me to help shape Chrome. Ultimately, it was time for me to go. For those who remain: As Google changes and abundance is joined by scarcity, you may feel the need to watch your back, to compete for resources. My request to you: don’t. Keep that Google culture! If a teammate needs help, give it. Smile at a stranger. Say hello in the hallway. If you’re a manager, remember that your primary responsibility is to nurture your reports and give them space to grow. If you’re higher up - remember that your employees are not numbers, not data: they are people, fragile, wondrous, unique human beings. And when you leave, you have an opportunity to spread to the world the best of Google - a culture of kindness, helpfulness, and personal freedom. I can’t wait for what’s next. I'm feeling lucky!

Last night, I looked at my phone, and there it was: a notification saying, "Work profile deleted." Finally, I was cut off from the Google universe I’d inhabited for the last 9½ years.   On March 4, I’ll be starting an exciting new job at ZocDoc, and I’d filled out a form telling Google that March 1 was my last day. I knew that soon, my colleagues, my friends around the world, our emails and chats, the groups where people share about transit delays or bad puns, all the internal resources, the documents, presentations, and code I'd created, the entire culture - would all be gone. Inaccessible. Blocked. The weird thing is, I had no idea when this would happen, because there was no one to ask. A few years ago, if you had a question about benefits or company policy, you could write to an email alias and a friendly person would get back to you with a helpful answer. Now, often you get a canned response from an offshore vendor team. There was no exit interview; no one to ask why I quit. I don’t blame Google, though. In a company with 185,878 full-time employees, spending time on one person is inefficient. I believed in Google, and it breaks my heart to see it devolving into just another big company. But this shift is not inevitable. The old and new cultures coexist, uneasily, side by side. It’s a place of bureaucracy, hierarchy, and layoffs, but it’s also a land of friendly, helpful people who are simultaneously super smart and humble. My last manager and director were so nice that I could barely leave. Overwhelmingly, what I feel is gratitude - for the people I got to know, for the opportunities Google gave me. Google took me in after I left the golden path from computer science grad to tech worker to go be an activist and a musician. It let me think up big dreams and big plans and create spontaneous teams to make them reality. We got to help countless companies speed up and improve their websites. Google gave us money to set up conferences in Pakistan, Brazil, Indonesia, and more, to use AMP to build websites people could access with cheaper phones and slower connections. It taught me how to be a Product Manager and trusted me to help shape Chrome. Ultimately, it was time for me to go. For those who remain: As Google changes and abundance is joined by scarcity, you may feel the need to watch your back, to compete for resources. My request to you: don’t. Keep that Google culture! If a teammate needs help, give it. Smile at a stranger. Say hello in the hallway. If you’re a manager, remember that your primary responsibility is to nurture your reports and give them space to grow. If you’re higher up - remember that your employees are not numbers, not data: they are people, fragile, wondrous, unique human beings. And when you leave, you have an opportunity to spread to the world the best of Google - a culture of kindness, helpfulness, and personal freedom. I can’t wait for what’s next. I'm feeling lucky!

Last night, I looked at my phone, and there it was: a notification saying, "Work profile deleted." Finally, I was cut off from the Google universe I’d inhabited for the last 9½ years.   On March 4, I’ll be starting an exciting new job at ZocDoc, and I’d filled out a form telling Google that March 1 was my last day. I knew that soon, my colleagues, my friends around the world, our emails and chats, the groups where people share about transit delays or bad puns, all the internal resources, the documents, presentations, and code I'd created, the entire culture - would all be gone. Inaccessible. Blocked. The weird thing is, I had no idea when this would happen, because there was no one to ask. A few years ago, if you had a question about benefits or company policy, you could write to an email alias and a friendly person would get back to you with a helpful answer. Now, often you get a canned response from an offshore vendor team. There was no exit interview; no one to ask why I quit. I don’t blame Google, though. In a company with 185,878 full-time employees, spending time on one person is inefficient. I believed in Google, and it breaks my heart to see it devolving into just another big company. But this shift is not inevitable. The old and new cultures coexist, uneasily, side by side. It’s a place of bureaucracy, hierarchy, and layoffs, but it’s also a land of friendly, helpful people who are simultaneously super smart and humble. My last manager and director were so nice that I could barely leave. Overwhelmingly, what I feel is gratitude - for the people I got to know, for the opportunities Google gave me. Google took me in after I left the golden path from computer science grad to tech worker to go be an activist and a musician. It let me think up big dreams and big plans and create spontaneous teams to make them reality. We got to help countless companies speed up and improve their websites. Google gave us money to set up conferences in Pakistan, Brazil, Indonesia, and more, to use AMP to build websites people could access with cheaper phones and slower connections. It taught me how to be a Product Manager and trusted me to help shape Chrome. Ultimately, it was time for me to go. For those who remain: As Google changes and abundance is joined by scarcity, you may feel the need to watch your back, to compete for resources. My request to you: don’t. Keep that Google culture! If a teammate needs help, give it. Smile at a stranger. Say hello in the hallway. If you’re a manager, remember that your primary responsibility is to nurture your reports and give them space to grow. If you’re higher up - remember that your employees are not numbers, not data: they are people, fragile, wondrous, unique human beings. And when you leave, you have an opportunity to spread to the world the best of Google - a culture of kindness, helpfulness, and personal freedom. I can’t wait for what’s next. I'm feeling lucky!

Last night, I looked at my phone, and there it was: a notification saying, "Work profile deleted." Finally, I was cut off from the Google universe I’d inhabited for the last 9½ years.   On March 4, I’ll be starting an exciting new job at ZocDoc, and I’d filled out a form telling Google that March 1 was my last day. I knew that soon, my colleagues, my friends around the world, our emails and chats, the groups where people share about transit delays or bad puns, all the internal resources, the documents, presentations, and code I'd created, the entire culture - would all be gone. Inaccessible. Blocked. The weird thing is, I had no idea when this would happen, because there was no one to ask. A few years ago, if you had a question about benefits or company policy, you could write to an email alias and a friendly person would get back to you with a helpful answer. Now, often you get a canned response from an offshore vendor team. There was no exit interview; no one to ask why I quit. I don’t blame Google, though. In a company with 185,878 full-time employees, spending time on one person is inefficient. I believed in Google, and it breaks my heart to see it devolving into just another big company. But this shift is not inevitable. The old and new cultures coexist, uneasily, side by side. It’s a place of bureaucracy, hierarchy, and layoffs, but it’s also a land of friendly, helpful people who are simultaneously super smart and humble. My last manager and director were so nice that I could barely leave. Overwhelmingly, what I feel is gratitude - for the people I got to know, for the opportunities Google gave me. Google took me in after I left the golden path from computer science grad to tech worker to go be an activist and a musician. It let me think up big dreams and big plans and create spontaneous teams to make them reality. We got to help countless companies speed up and improve their websites. Google gave us money to set up conferences in Pakistan, Brazil, Indonesia, and more, to use AMP to build websites people could access with cheaper phones and slower connections. It taught me how to be a Product Manager and trusted me to help shape Chrome. Ultimately, it was time for me to go. For those who remain: As Google changes and abundance is joined by scarcity, you may feel the need to watch your back, to compete for resources. My request to you: don’t. Keep that Google culture! If a teammate needs help, give it. Smile at a stranger. Say hello in the hallway. If you’re a manager, remember that your primary responsibility is to nurture your reports and give them space to grow. If you’re higher up - remember that your employees are not numbers, not data: they are people, fragile, wondrous, unique human beings. And when you leave, you have an opportunity to spread to the world the best of Google - a culture of kindness, helpfulness, and personal freedom. I can’t wait for what’s next. I'm feeling lucky!

Last night, I looked at my phone, and there it was: a notification saying, "Work profile deleted." Finally, I was cut off from the Google universe I’d inhabited for the last 9½ years.   On March 4, I’ll be starting an exciting new job at ZocDoc, and I’d filled out a form telling Google that March 1 was my last day. I knew that soon, my colleagues, my friends around the world, our emails and chats, the groups where people share about transit delays or bad puns, all the internal resources, the documents, presentations, and code I'd created, the entire culture - would all be gone. Inaccessible. Blocked. The weird thing is, I had no idea when this would happen, because there was no one to ask. A few years ago, if you had a question about benefits or company policy, you could write to an email alias and a friendly person would get back to you with a helpful answer. Now, often you get a canned response from an offshore vendor team. There was no exit interview; no one to ask why I quit. I don’t blame Google, though. In a company with 185,878 full-time employees, spending time on one person is inefficient. I believed in Google, and it breaks my heart to see it devolving into just another big company. But this shift is not inevitable. The old and new cultures coexist, uneasily, side by side. It’s a place of bureaucracy, hierarchy, and layoffs, but it’s also a land of friendly, helpful people who are simultaneously super smart and humble. My last manager and director were so nice that I could barely leave. Overwhelmingly, what I feel is gratitude - for the people I got to know, for the opportunities Google gave me. Google took me in after I left the golden path from computer science grad to tech worker to go be an activist and a musician. It let me think up big dreams and big plans and create spontaneous teams to make them reality. We got to help countless companies speed up and improve their websites. Google gave us money to set up conferences in Pakistan, Brazil, Indonesia, and more, to use AMP to build websites people could access with cheaper phones and slower connections. It taught me how to be a Product Manager and trusted me to help shape Chrome. Ultimately, it was time for me to go. For those who remain: As Google changes and abundance is joined by scarcity, you may feel the need to watch your back, to compete for resources. My request to you: don’t. Keep that Google culture! If a teammate needs help, give it. Smile at a stranger. Say hello in the hallway. If you’re a manager, remember that your primary responsibility is to nurture your reports and give them space to grow. If you’re higher up - remember that your employees are not numbers, not data: they are people, fragile, wondrous, unique human beings. And when you leave, you have an opportunity to spread to the world the best of Google - a culture of kindness, helpfulness, and personal freedom. I can’t wait for what’s next. I'm feeling lucky!

Last night, I looked at my phone, and there it was: a notification saying, "Work profile deleted." Finally, I was cut off from the Google universe I’d inhabited for the last 9½ years.   On March 4, I’ll be starting an exciting new job at ZocDoc, and I’d filled out a form telling Google that March 1 was my last day. I knew that soon, my colleagues, my friends around the world, our emails and chats, the groups where people share about transit delays or bad puns, all the internal resources, the documents, presentations, and code I'd created, the entire culture - would all be gone. Inaccessible. Blocked. The weird thing is, I had no idea when this would happen, because there was no one to ask. A few years ago, if you had a question about benefits or company policy, you could write to an email alias and a friendly person would get back to you with a helpful answer. Now, often you get a canned response from an offshore vendor team. There was no exit interview; no one to ask why I quit. I don’t blame Google, though. In a company with 185,878 full-time employees, spending time on one person is inefficient. I believed in Google, and it breaks my heart to see it devolving into just another big company. But this shift is not inevitable. The old and new cultures coexist, uneasily, side by side. It’s a place of bureaucracy, hierarchy, and layoffs, but it’s also a land of friendly, helpful people who are simultaneously super smart and humble. My last manager and director were so nice that I could barely leave. Overwhelmingly, what I feel is gratitude - for the people I got to know, for the opportunities Google gave me. Google took me in after I left the golden path from computer science grad to tech worker to go be an activist and a musician. It let me think up big dreams and big plans and create spontaneous teams to make them reality. We got to help countless companies speed up and improve their websites. Google gave us money to set up conferences in Pakistan, Brazil, Indonesia, and more, to use AMP to build websites people could access with cheaper phones and slower connections. It taught me how to be a Product Manager and trusted me to help shape Chrome. Ultimately, it was time for me to go. For those who remain: As Google changes and abundance is joined by scarcity, you may feel the need to watch your back, to compete for resources. My request to you: don’t. Keep that Google culture! If a teammate needs help, give it. Smile at a stranger. Say hello in the hallway. If you’re a manager, remember that your primary responsibility is to nurture your reports and give them space to grow. If you’re higher up - remember that your employees are not numbers, not data: they are people, fragile, wondrous, unique human beings. And when you leave, you have an opportunity to spread to the world the best of Google - a culture of kindness, helpfulness, and personal freedom. I can’t wait for what’s next. I'm feeling lucky!

Last night, I looked at my phone, and there it was: a notification saying, "Work profile deleted." Finally, I was cut off from the Google universe I’d inhabited for the last 9½ years.   On March 4, I’ll be starting an exciting new job at ZocDoc, and I’d filled out a form telling Google that March 1 was my last day. I knew that soon, my colleagues, my friends around the world, our emails and chats, the groups where people share about transit delays or bad puns, all the internal resources, the documents, presentations, and code I'd created, the entire culture - would all be gone. Inaccessible. Blocked. The weird thing is, I had no idea when this would happen, because there was no one to ask. A few years ago, if you had a question about benefits or company policy, you could write to an email alias and a friendly person would get back to you with a helpful answer. Now, often you get a canned response from an offshore vendor team. There was no exit interview; no one to ask why I quit. I don’t blame Google, though. In a company with 185,878 full-time employees, spending time on one person is inefficient. I believed in Google, and it breaks my heart to see it devolving into just another big company. But this shift is not inevitable. The old and new cultures coexist, uneasily, side by side. It’s a place of bureaucracy, hierarchy, and layoffs, but it’s also a land of friendly, helpful people who are simultaneously super smart and humble. My last manager and director were so nice that I could barely leave. Overwhelmingly, what I feel is gratitude - for the people I got to know, for the opportunities Google gave me. Google took me in after I left the golden path from computer science grad to tech worker to go be an activist and a musician. It let me think up big dreams and big plans and create spontaneous teams to make them reality. We got to help countless companies speed up and improve their websites. Google gave us money to set up conferences in Pakistan, Brazil, Indonesia, and more, to use AMP to build websites people could access with cheaper phones and slower connections. It taught me how to be a Product Manager and trusted me to help shape Chrome. Ultimately, it was time for me to go. For those who remain: As Google changes and abundance is joined by scarcity, you may feel the need to watch your back, to compete for resources. My request to you: don’t. Keep that Google culture! If a teammate needs help, give it. Smile at a stranger. Say hello in the hallway. If you’re a manager, remember that your primary responsibility is to nurture your reports and give them space to grow. If you’re higher up - remember that your employees are not numbers, not data: they are people, fragile, wondrous, unique human beings. And when you leave, you have an opportunity to spread to the world the best of Google - a culture of kindness, helpfulness, and personal freedom. I can’t wait for what’s next. I'm feeling lucky!

Last night, I looked at my phone, and there it was: a notification saying, "Work profile deleted." Finally, I was cut off from the Google universe I’d inhabited for the last 9½ years.   On March 4, I’ll be starting an exciting new job at ZocDoc, and I’d filled out a form telling Google that March 1 was my last day. I knew that soon, my colleagues, my friends around the world, our emails and chats, the groups where people share about transit delays or bad puns, all the internal resources, the documents, presentations, and code I'd created, the entire culture - would all be gone. Inaccessible. Blocked. The weird thing is, I had no idea when this would happen, because there was no one to ask. A few years ago, if you had a question about benefits or company policy, you could write to an email alias and a friendly person would get back to you with a helpful answer. Now, often you get a canned response from an offshore vendor team. There was no exit interview; no one to ask why I quit. I don’t blame Google, though. In a company with 185,878 full-time employees, spending time on one person is inefficient. I believed in Google, and it breaks my heart to see it devolving into just another big company. But this shift is not inevitable. The old and new cultures coexist, uneasily, side by side. It’s a place of bureaucracy, hierarchy, and layoffs, but it’s also a land of friendly, helpful people who are simultaneously super smart and humble. My last manager and director were so nice that I could barely leave. Overwhelmingly, what I feel is gratitude - for the people I got to know, for the opportunities Google gave me. Google took me in after I left the golden path from computer science grad to tech worker to go be an activist and a musician. It let me think up big dreams and big plans and create spontaneous teams to make them reality. We got to help countless companies speed up and improve their websites. Google gave us money to set up conferences in Pakistan, Brazil, Indonesia, and more, to use AMP to build websites people could access with cheaper phones and slower connections. It taught me how to be a Product Manager and trusted me to help shape Chrome. Ultimately, it was time for me to go. For those who remain: As Google changes and abundance is joined by scarcity, you may feel the need to watch your back, to compete for resources. My request to you: don’t. Keep that Google culture! If a teammate needs help, give it. Smile at a stranger. Say hello in the hallway. If you’re a manager, remember that your primary responsibility is to nurture your reports and give them space to grow. If you’re higher up - remember that your employees are not numbers, not data: they are people, fragile, wondrous, unique human beings. And when you leave, you have an opportunity to spread to the world the best of Google - a culture of kindness, helpfulness, and personal freedom. I can’t wait for what’s next. I'm feeling lucky!