Here’s what I learned, the hard way, in Bloomington-Normal:
When power protects itself instead of the mission, good people become expendable. You can do everything right—run the fair process, protect the money, refuse to play the game—and still lose the job. That’s not failure. That’s proof you never belonged in the game in the first place.
I left with my integrity intact, my family still whole, and a remote role that lets me travel and still be home when it matters. Some exits don’t require fireworks. They only require you to walk out the door without looking back.
And sometimes the universe sends you a quiet confirmation on June 6th that you were right all along.
I left my job in Virginia the way a man leaves a warm house in winter—coat buttoned, heart half-frozen, eyes already on the horizon. My wife wanted to be closer to her mother. She homeschools the kids, so the math was simple and brutal: I would be the only income.
We loaded the truck, crossed the country, and landed in Bloomington-Normal with nothing but hope and a mortgage.
They hired one anyway.
The 100th anniversary of Route 66 was coming. Someone had to “push everything through.” They brought in a new Director with fresh energy and a polished résumé. On June 6—6/6—the new Director walked into the CEO’s office and gave notice. The seat was empty again before the summer even began.