Exactly five years ago today, I first started as a Software Engineer at Amazon. Last Thursday, I gave my two weeks notice. Once the deed was done, I hopped on Twitter to announce the news in my typically matter-of-fact way:

Jameson

@softwarejameson

I just quit my job at Amazon.

19:49 PM - 29 Jul 2021

My next step was to go grab a celebratory ice cream. While out, I started getting notifications -- not just the "atta-boy!"s that I'd expected from a handful of my buds, but a lot of notifications. There was something about that tweet that resonated for people. So far, the tweet has been seen 670,000 times.

Most of the responses fall into one of two categories:

1. "Congratulations!", or
2. "But why?"

I'll try to answer that question.

About a year before I started, the New York Times had run their scathing, now famous article: Inside Amazon: Wrestling Big Ideas in a Bruising Workplace. I had read it before I started, and I knew going in that I was in for a challenging experience. But, I was hungry to grow my career. I've never been afraid of hard work. And if work at Amazon got hard - hell, I'd just work harder.

I joined amidst a death march towards the release of AWS' Systems Manager. While our team of Engineers were working 10+ hour days, our manager slipped off on vacation for a few weeks. I remember his words when he came back: "Okay guys, it's time to really get to work." We just stared.

But we did ship that service. And it was a rush. Our work was all over the big tech news sites. Even our CTO, Werner Vogels, mentioned our work in his keynote address at AWS' annual re:Invent conference.

Six months in, I realized I was headed down a dead-end road. If I ever wanted to make the coveted role of Senior Engineer, I'd have to double down on the tech I knew best: mobile. As I began to research internal transfers, a great opportunity presented itself: the Alexa mobile apps didn't actually let you speak with Alexa yet. Yes, they needed someone to build that feature. I jumped at the opportunity. I moved over to a high floor of Amazon's new "Day 1" Headquarters. It had a breathtaking view of the Puget Sound.

Alexa is an enormous group, and operates on the single largest code base I've ever seen. There's precious little documentation, and hostile teams compete across the organization for gold and glory. This was hard.

But, I followed my original plan. I just worked harder. Fifty, sixty-hour weeks became the new norm. I always hit my deliverables. I envisioned and lead new initiatives. I made great friends. And yes, eventually, I became a Senior Engineer.

But after two-and-a-half years, we had already accomplished a lot with that little app. Those long weeks were starting to catch up to me. My girlfriend grew bored of my always-working lifestyle and left. I now spent most days alone. I worked more. I was burning out.

Eventually I had grown tired of commuting into downtown Seattle, working in the office all day, commuting home, and working at home until bedtime. So I started looking for my next move.

The AWS Mobile team was hiring remote employees. Even better: they were open source. I remember being excited. I could move out to Vashon island and finally start enjoying my life. I'd get to lead the development of a flagship mobile product and I'd be an official, bonafide, open-source dude.

Joining this team turned out to be one of my biggest mistakes to date.

I knew that the organization had a history of underperforming products: AWS Mobile Hub, Amazon Pinpoint, Amazon Cognito Sync. In my hubris, I assumed that my hard work and leadership could change all of that.

But there was an unforeseen obstacle. Three old buddies had tight control over the roadmap. They weren't open to input. Despite that I lead the org in contributions of code and code reviews, we didn't see eye-to-eye on direction. I tried to leave amicably, but I couldn't get out soon enough.

After months of HR paperwork, the three did succeed in printing a really poor rating into Amazon's HR system. Several other managers called afoul of it. With their support, I never had to do a Performance Improvement Plan (PIP), I was never on a "Dev List," - none of that. Due to what HR later admitted as "process irregularities," I was able to transfer to another team.

Around this time, I was told by many: "yea, it isn't fair, but there's nothing that can be done about it." It was around this time that I lost my last bits of respect for the company.

I spent the next four months working on a much better team in Amazon Go. This team had lots of other senior people that I could learn from. They were highly-educated professionals with many years of experience and great accomplishments at the company. The work-life-balance was much, much better.

But still, every day -- every night, I thought about the injustice I'd seen. I thought about how I had been treated at Amazon, after all my efforts. About how whimsical the Leadership Principles truly can be at times. I realized that justice would never arrive.

My mind wandered to think of justice for other people that Amazon touched -- people less privileged than I. Single mothers working in our warehouses to survive. Our immigrant workers who would be deported from the US if Amazon changed its fancy for them. The voice that these people could not have, that I could have.

I am no moral purist. These were topics I successfully rationalized away over the years. For years, I had been in a moral holding pattern that enabled my own self fulfillment.

"Is it okay that the warehouse workers have to pee in bottles?" Any decent person can tell you that it isn't. But, the CEO of our consumer business is awfully touchy about it.

A number of times he's taken to Twitter to attack my favorite politician, unapologetic to the conditions of our workers who make peanuts against his multi-millions.

Dave Clark

@davehclark

1/3 I welcome @SenSanders to Birmingham and appreciate his push for a progressive workplace. I often say we are the Bernie Sanders of employers, but that’s not quite right because we actually deliver a progressive workplace
businessinsider.com/bernie-sanders…

22:38 PM - 24 Mar 2021

Amazon went on to bust the unionization effort at Bessemer, Alabama. It was a cause that I had deeply wanted to see succeed. It was a dark day for America's working class when it did not.

When I'd speak with my mother and father about these things, I could tell they were ashamed that I worked for Amazon. And I did feel ashamed, myself. They had invested a lot in me, and hoped that I'd be a real leader. And this was the man they got for it? No.

The final icing on the cake came when I got the talk about Amazon's "office-centric culture," and expectations around returning to Seattle.

At first I was open to the idea of coming back to Seattle. But as I looked around at what Amazon had made of it, I realized I couldn't afford to live there anymore. And maybe I would never be able to live there as a working class person.

I pushed back, and was told my comp would go down.

As Jeff Bezos took a frivolous journey to space, Eastern Washington was in flames from climate change. The streets of Seattle are ever-more filled with homelessness as Jeff sits on a fat stack of $200,000,000,000.00 dollars. Where is the call to justice for Washington's burning land? And for the poor and working class people of our state? When will they have a trip to space?

And, of course: what about me? When would I ever be able to afford a small house within 30 minutes of work? I, who had worked so many 50-60 hour weeks? After so many years working: what had been the point of all that?

Leadership and principle are about standing up for the most vulnerable members of our society. They are about standing up for your own employees. They require that we accept every person on earth to have at least as much inherent worth and dignity as Dave Clark and Jeff Bezos.

Leadership and Principle mean leaving Amazon.