UL. The Mothership. The Big Blue U. These are a few of the more popular monikers, often uttered with a mixture of affection and cynicism, for the organization with which I have associated with since the summer of 2004, and had been employed by since I graduated from business school nearly seven years ago.
Seven years? How is that possible? I cannot think of any other institution that I have been a part of for so long. No one school, no other employer. Heck, not even the institution of marriage (yet). My family is the only clan I can think of having been a part of for a longer defined period.
So no wonder that when I said my goodbyes, I felt like I was leaving my family. Older sibling-like mentors, co-conspirational brothers, distant cousins that are always fun to reunite with. While I'm confident about my decision to open a new chapter in my career, there was a certain uneasiness I felt driving away (rather unceremoniously) without my membership badge that identifies me as a member of this crazy family. I have once again moved on to the ranks of alumni.
... I was always impressed with what my former employer chose to do with its size:
That said, in the end it was partially this monstrous size - and the feeling of being a tiny cog - that made me open to exploring an opportunity in a fragmented industry, where scrappiness seems to be a key quality of the successful and the barriers to finding opportunities and effecting change are lower. (That and the wine.) And while it's easy to look back through rose-colored glasses, I know that not everything was perfect. Yet I do find a lot of good in the rearview mirror, and regret that I won't be tagged in posts like this any time soon:
Seven years? How is that possible? I cannot think of any other institution that I have been a part of for so long. No one school, no other employer. Heck, not even the institution of marriage (yet). My family is the only clan I can think of having been a part of for a longer defined period.
So no wonder that when I said my goodbyes, I felt like I was leaving my family. Older sibling-like mentors, co-conspirational brothers, distant cousins that are always fun to reunite with. While I'm confident about my decision to open a new chapter in my career, there was a certain uneasiness I felt driving away (rather unceremoniously) without my membership badge that identifies me as a member of this crazy family. I have once again moved on to the ranks of alumni.
I wrote the preceding text 2 days after my departure from Unilever, and time keeps slipping by as it has habit of doing and I've been in my new role for one month now. In fact, the first weeks in my new job have completely flown by, as I put all effort towards learning a new industry, navigating the world outside the lines, and reminding myself to be patient. I was warned this new world would be a little like the Wild West. It's not an exaggeration. But there are perks:
In addition, 3 more cases arrived today. But the above were "complementary"... all part of learning the brands. |
When I have time to stop and think, I realize how fortunate I was to have spent my "formative" years at Unilever. I have learned from many talented people - peers and superiors alike - and have developed a sense of brands and business that I know I can be confident in. My only hope is that I've soaked in enough to make an impact outside those walls.
I'm also quite proud of my time at the Big Blue U - and while there is backlash against big corporations today...
This has been making rounds under the title "The illusion of choice" |
... I was always impressed with what my former employer chose to do with its size:
No, I don't mean make videos about how great it is.
That said, in the end it was partially this monstrous size - and the feeling of being a tiny cog - that made me open to exploring an opportunity in a fragmented industry, where scrappiness seems to be a key quality of the successful and the barriers to finding opportunities and effecting change are lower. (That and the wine.) And while it's easy to look back through rose-colored glasses, I know that not everything was perfect. Yet I do find a lot of good in the rearview mirror, and regret that I won't be tagged in posts like this any time soon:
That, and I'm already dreading buying my first full-priced jar of mayonnaise in seven years.