The Exit Interview

Henrik had rehearsed the conversation so many times on the train that, when the day finally came, he almost said the opening line before the woman from human resources had sat down. Eight years at the firm, three bosses, two office moves and one company name change: it seemed strange that all of it should be summed up in a forty-minute meeting with a form.

The form was more direct than he had expected. Why are you leaving? What could we have done to keep you? Would you recommend us to a friend? Henrik had decided in advance to be polite and vague. He was going to a smaller company with a shorter commute, and that was true enough. There was no reason to burn bridges in an industry where everyone seemed to know everyone else.

But the woman, whose name was Sunita, did not read the questions out like a checklist. She asked the first one and then simply waited. The silence lasted long enough that Henrik heard himself saying something he had not planned to say: that not once in the last three years had anyone asked him what he wanted to do next. He had been good at his job, and so he had been left to do it, again and again, until doing it well had started to feel like a trap.

Sunita wrote this down without comment. Then she asked whether he would have stayed if someone had asked. He thought about it carefully. If his manager had offered him the new project two years ago, he would probably still be there now, and he would not be sitting in this room. He said so, and added that he did not blame anyone in particular. It was the kind of problem that belonged to nobody, which was exactly why nobody had solved it.

Only later, on the train home, did he realise how unusual the conversation had been. He had expected a formality and had instead been listened to more carefully in forty minutes than in the previous year. Three months after he left, a former colleague sent him a message: the company had started something called career conversations, twice a year, for everyone. Henrik read it twice. He did not regret leaving, but he was grateful that he had not been vague.

Henrik had practised the conversation many times on the train. After eight years, three bosses and two office moves, he was leaving the company. It felt strange that all of this would end with a forty-minute meeting and a form.

The questions on the form were very direct. Why are you leaving? What could we have done to keep you? Henrik had decided to be polite and not too clear. He was going to a smaller company that was closer to home, and that was true. He did not want to cause problems, because in his industry everybody seemed to know everybody.

But Sunita, the woman from human resources, did not simply read the questions. She asked the first one and then she just waited. After a long silence, Henrik said something he had not planned to say: in the last three years, nobody had asked him what he wanted to do next. He was good at his job, so people let him do the same thing again and again. In the end it felt like a trap.

Sunita wrote this down. Then she asked if he would have stayed if someone had asked him. He thought about it carefully. If his manager had offered him the new project two years ago, he would probably still be there today. He said that he did not blame any one person. The problem belonged to nobody, and that was why nobody had solved it.

On the train home, he understood how unusual the conversation had been. Somebody had really listened to him. Three months later, a former colleague wrote to him: the company had started career conversations, twice a year, for everyone. Henrik did not regret leaving. But he was happy that he had been honest.