There’s something oddly liberating about reading stories of people who’ve walked away from jobs faster than you can say “probationary period.” Yesterday I stumbled across a discussion thread about the shortest timeframes people have known a job wasn’t for them, and it got me thinking about workplace red flags and the courage it takes to trust your gut.

The original poster had it figured out in just two days. Two days! And honestly, good on them. There’s a refreshing honesty in recognising that early that something isn’t right and having the backbone to act on it. They mentioned not wanting to get “further enmeshed and embedded” with people relying on them before making their exit - which shows more consideration for their colleagues than many employers show their staff.

Something’s fundamentally broken in our economic system when getting a promotion feels like treading water. The other day, while reviewing my budget spreadsheet (a monthly ritual that’s becoming increasingly depressing), I noticed a disturbing pattern that seems all too common these days.

Despite earning what would have been considered an excellent salary just a decade ago, the numbers tell a different story. Every “victory” in career progression feels hollow. That promotion you fought hard for? Half of it disappeared into the Medicare levy and HECS repayments. That annual bonus? Swept away by insurance premium hikes and utility bill increases that somehow always outpace inflation.

My recent coffee catch-up with an old mate from the tech industry sparked some interesting thoughts about corporate culture. He’d just made the leap from a small dev shop to a big corporate gig, and his observations hit surprisingly close to home.

The corporate world often feels like watching a carefully choreographed performance where the actual work sometimes takes a backseat to the art of being seen doing work. Picture those endless meetings in the glass-walled rooms at Collins Street, where people seem more focused on crafting the perfect email response than solving actual problems.

Reading through various career change stories online today got me thinking about the incredible journeys people take when they decide to completely switch paths. From burnt-out healthcare workers to hospitality veterans, there’s a growing trend of professionals making bold moves into entirely different industries - and thriving.

The stories that caught my eye weren’t just about salary increases (though doubling or even tripling income certainly grabbed my attention). What really resonated was how many people described finding unexpected happiness in roles they’d never previously considered. Train drivers who left hospitality behind, nurses transitioning to medical sales, and event managers stepping into tech - each story painted a picture of people breaking free from their comfort zones.

Looking out my office window in the Docklands, watching suited figures shuffle between glass towers, I’ve been thinking a lot about how corporate life shapes us. The discussion I stumbled upon recently about corporate personalities really struck a chord.

Remember that spark of enthusiasm we all had in our twenties? That genuine excitement about entering the workforce, making a difference, and climbing the corporate ladder? Fast forward fifteen years, and something fundamental has shifted. The enthusiasm has been replaced by a sort of programmed efficiency, and that sparkle in the eyes has dimmed considerably.