When leadership announced my promotion to principal technical architect, my colleagues applauded. Six people stopped by my office with congratulations. The CFO called me the “perfect culture fit.”

Nine months later, HR called me into a conference room and slid a severance package across the table. Organizational restructuring. My working style no longer aligned with the company’s evolving culture.

I knew what that meant. I wasn’t the right kind of person anymore.

From belonging to outsider

My first three years at the company felt easy. I went to every happy hour, joined the company softball team, and volunteered for committees. I wore the t-shirts, used the branded coffee mug, laughed at the inside jokes.

The language took some getting used to. Words like “intentionality” and “strategic alignment” felt forced at first, but they became second nature. I nodded along in meetings when leadership spoke about vision, even when I privately questioned the substance.

During morning standups, my technical solutions were met with approving nods. My documentation became the standard others followed. My name appeared in quarterly acknowledgment slides.

I was the culture fit poster child.

Then the CEO changed.

The unwritten rules

The new leadership team wanted a faster, flashier company. My methodical approach to system architecture became “resistance to change.” My preference for documentation was “analysis paralysis.” My caution about technical debt was “fear of innovation.”

The first time I sensed the shift was in a technical review. I presented a comprehensive system design with backup scenarios and risk mitigation strategies. Instead of appreciation, I got a tight smile. “This seems overly cautious,” my manager said. “We need to move faster.”

The workplace changed overnight.

Meetings had new, unspoken protocols. Under the old leadership, asking questions signaled engagement. Now, questions were seen as challenges to authority. Success used to mean well-architected solutions and collaborative decision-making. Now, it meant boldness, even if that boldness led to terrible decisions.

The dress code didn’t officially change, but when the CEO started wearing designer sneakers with blazers, managers started mirroring him. Employees who didn’t adjust stuck out in the wrong way.

Language transformed too. “Reliable,” “thorough,” and “consistent” were replaced by “disruptive,” “agile,” and “visionary.” My careful, detail-driven reports were “too dense.” Leadership wanted slides, not documentation. They wanted energy, not substance.

I adjusted. I started using the new buzzwords, made my reports more visual, and stayed silent when I normally would have asked clarifying questions. I tried to look comfortable with ambiguity. I forced myself to focus on “vision” instead of details.

None of it worked.

The signals of exclusion

“Corinne, do you mind if I borrow you for a working session on Thursday? We need a voice from the old guard,” Mark said across the conference table.

Old guard.

I was 43. But in this version of the company, I had already been moved to the past.

Invitations disappeared. Leadership held impromptu meetings over drinks after work, and I wasn’t included. My name disappeared from email chains. Conversations stopped when I entered a room.

In one meeting, I raised concerns about a rushed architectural decision with security risks. The room went silent. Someone chuckled. “Always the voice of caution, aren’t you, Corinne?”

Six months earlier, that caution had been called “thorough risk assessment.”

The privilege of cultural alignment

Not everyone struggled with the shift.

Alec, who had joined right before the CEO change, thrived. His confidence, quick decision-making, and ability to sound certain — even when he was wrong — aligned perfectly with leadership’s expectations.

Morgan from marketing adapted seamlessly. She abandoned her data-driven approach in favor of sweeping statements about market disruption. Her presentations became light on evidence but heavy on energy.

Employees like me, who had built expertise through experience rather than pedigree, had a harder time. The people who struggled the most were over 40, deeply technical, and often women.

The shift in cultural fit wasn’t neutral. It favored those who naturally aligned with the backgrounds, personalities, and communication styles of the new leadership. It favored those who could effortlessly mirror the people in power.

The fabrication of failure

Three weeks before my termination, I received my first negative performance review.

The feedback had nothing to do with my work.

“Struggles to embrace our new agile methodology.”
“Shows resistance to rapid iteration processes.”
“Communication style remains too detail-oriented rather than vision-focused.”
“Needs to demonstrate more comfort with ambiguity.”

The actual outputs — projects delivered on time, risk mitigations that prevented outages, system stability — barely got a mention.

Cultural misalignment was reframed as performance failure.

When I asked my manager for specific examples, he hesitated. He mentioned my “energy” in meetings. My “hesitation” around certain initiatives.

Not quantifiable. Not debatable.

Finding solid ground

The morning after my termination, I woke up feeling lighter. The exhaustion of performing cultural alignment had taken more from me than I’d realized.

I met Darcy for coffee, a former colleague who had been pushed out months earlier. A brilliant technical product manager, labeled “too process-focused.”

“I kept thinking I could adapt,” she said, stirring her latte. “But I was trying to fit myself into a culture designed to exclude people like me.”

That was it.

The problem wasn’t my inability to change. It was that the change was never meant to include me.

That evening, I updated my resume. I stopped downplaying my strengths. I replaced “innovative solution architect” with “technical architect specializing in robust, sustainable system design.”

Three months later, I joined a company that valued technical rigor. During my interview, I shared a story about preventing a security breach through documentation — something my last company dismissed as excessive caution. The CTO nodded. “That’s exactly the kind of foresight we need.”

The CEO mentioned valuing diverse perspectives. I asked for examples. I asked how disagreement was handled. I asked about decision-making processes.

Their answers matched their actions.

In my new role, I recently challenged leadership on a technical direction. Instead of being dismissed, my concerns were taken seriously. My methodical approach was an asset again.

Losing my culture fit status had felt like a failure. It wasn’t.

Beyond the facade

Cultural fit should never mean forced conformity.

The best organizations don’t narrow their definition of success. They recognize that technical excellence comes in different forms. The visionary who sees the future. The meticulous architect who prevents disasters. The collaborative engineer who builds consensus.

When companies use culture as a filtering mechanism, they lose valuable perspectives. They create blind spots that lead to real failures — security breaches, bad architecture, products that don’t scale.

I look at companies differently now. I pay attention to who gets interrupted in meetings. Who gets their ideas dismissed. Who thrives and who disappears.

The companies worth working for don’t require performance-based belonging. They value the expertise people bring, even when that expertise doesn’t fit into a convenient cultural mold.

No job should require becoming someone else.