Why I Left McKinsey
Sometimes the hardest decision isn’t staying. It’s stepping away. This is a reflection on identity, ambition, burnout, and what changed after one phone call.
“I never thought I could stay this long. Neither did I think I would leave”
That was the first line of my resignation email.
Eight years ago, I doubted whether I could survive in this environment.
Somewhere along the way, I stopped questioning whether I would ever leave.
Until that phone call.
The Call That Changed Everything
Last June, I had just returned from a packed business trip to Singapore.
Jet lagged, I went straight back into work and parenting. That evening, I received a message from my evaluator asking if we could speak briefly. I knew it wasn’t routine. He had always been respectful of family boundaries.
The call was short. He told me that in the upcoming annual review, I would not be nominated for partner election this year. To make it worse, I likely would receive a “concerned” rating. He wanted me to be mentally prepared. He also gave me a choice: whether to declare search before the review officially began.
After I hung up, I just sat there, shocked, angry, and heartbroken.
Eight years of effort, suddenly framed as possibly losing my place in the race.
And I had less than 24 hours to decide whether to stay in it. Life has the humor of its own sometimes.
I called my supporters.
Their responses were similar:
They expressed concern and sympathy
The decision was mine
If I stayed, be prepared that the next few months would be intense to turn things around
While the calls were helpful, in the end, the choice was still mine.
After some intense debate in my head, I decided to stay.
Not because the odds were clear. But because I wasn’t willing to accept that outcome.
There was a voice in me that said: “I shouldn’t be getting this result. I will prove them wrong.”
I returned to work as if nothing happened.
Very few people knew what I went through in those 24 hours.
The Real Turning Point
I thought this would become a comeback story.
Instead, staying was the beginning of something much harder. In the following weeks, I was still working harder than ever. But at the same time, I was consumed by internal conflict. I kept ruminating the decision over and over:
Why had I worked so hard and sacrificed so much, only to end up here?
Did I still believe in this system?
If I stayed, what exactly was I fighting for?
I had never seriously questioned these things before. Once the doubt cracked in, it was impossible to contain.
As days went by, this chatter in my mind grew louder and louder, and I found it almost impossible to have my head down and focus on getting my election platform back in shape.
I decided to take a break. In early July, I took a week off and traveled to Costa Rica with my family.
For the first time in months, I turned off my work phone.
That week gave me space to think, and some much-needed clarity finally started to emerge.
The Root of the Pain: Identity Attachment
This review outcome hurt so deeply because I had fused my identity with the Firm.
Before McKinsey, I often felt like an outsider - in Yunnan, in Hong Kong, even in business school. I learned to soften my ambition so I could fit in more smoothly.
At McKinsey, for the first time, I felt a powerful sense of belonging. I found myself surrounded by people like me - driven, disciplined, relentlessly ambitious, never quite satisfied. In a meritocratic environment, I could fully be myself and focus on doing good work.
I genuinely loved the job. I was proud of it.
Over time, the Firm shaped my thinking, my social circle, even my sense of self. I got used to the look people gave me when they heard I worked at McKinsey.
So when the review outcome shifted, it wasn’t just a career setback.
It destabilized who I thought I was.
Thankfully, I remembered something a mentor once told me:
“The most important thing in life is to be happy, and the rest follows. The Firm could be part of your identity, but it doesn’t define who you are.”
I realized I was too attached to this identity.
Proving Myself Or Respecting Myself?
When I looked back at my “highlights” over the McKinsey years - the excitement when I received the offer, the first praise on a project, the sense of fulfilment I got from each promotion - I saw a pattern.
Each milestone felt like proof.
I have always carried both imposter syndrome and the drive of an unsatisfied overachiever. External recognition became fuel. Each achievement fed the next pursuit.
It worked.
But it also exhausted me. I poured most of my energy into work. I lived in a state of chronic tension.
When I chose to stay after the review shock, much of it came from a desire to prove something to someone.
In Costa Rica, I asked myself honestly: If I made partner next year, then what?
Another goal would appear.
And if none existed, I would invent one.
The rat race had no natural endpoint.
For the first time, I admitted how much I had depended on external validation.
And strangely, that admission brought relief. I realized I no longer needed to prove anything.
Proving myself and respecting myself are not the same equation.
Becoming a Slave of My Calendar
A colleague once described our life as a hamster wheel. It felt accurate.
My calendar was always packed.
Lunch had to be force-blocked by my assistant.
5am gym sessions. Eventually 4am to squeeze in quiet time.
Daytime was a blur of constant context-switching. Evenings were for more work (actually the only focus time to get things done given the back-to-back meetings in the day) after putting kids in bed.
I trained myself into a high-functioning machine over time and told myself that this was what it would take.
But underneath that efficiency was something else. I had become a servant to time.
In Costa Rica, I experienced a different rhythm: “Pura Vida.” A slower pace. Less urgency. More presence.
I realized that much of my burnout wasn’t externally imposed.
I had internalized it and rationalized it, despite I would not want to admit it.
The choice had always been mine.
The Courage to Exit
When I was younger, I loved a Taiwanese TV show that ended at its peak. At the time, I didn’t understand why anyone would leave at the top.
Now I do.
The hardest thing is not enduring.
It is exiting.
A client I deeply respect often talks about “conditions for success”: timing, context, alignment.
Looking at my situation objectively, the conditions were not ideal. Personal capability is only part of the equation. Luck and politics matter too.
Could I have turned it around? Possibly.
But it would require even more energy.
And somewhere deep down, I was no longer sure I wanted to win that particular game. In fact, even the thought to “fight through” started to feel daunting.
One of my told mentors told me:
“Leaving the Firm could feel scary. But trust me, you are not jumping off a cliff. You will be fine and the grass is greener on the other side.”
That gave me courage and showed me the light.
The Decision
On my first day back from leave, I cleared my calendar and called my supporters one by one.
Some sent their well wishes.
Some were shocked.
Some asked if I would reconsider.
One laughed and said, “You’re informing us. There is no room for any negotiation”
He was right.
For the first time in a long while, I made a decision entirely for myself.
After the transition, I stepped into what felt like exile, but it was a peaceful one that I had not realize how much I wanted and needed it.
Thankfully this time, there was no turmoil.
Only relief.
Over the past few months, many people have told me in various occasions:
“You look happier. There is this chill glow on your face.”
How true.
I’ve also learned a simple test for decisions:
Notice your body and listen to your heart.
If your body softens after the choice, it’s probably the right one.
Looking Back
I’m grateful for that phone call.
What once felt unfair became a catalyst.
Without it, I might still be running at full speed.
There is a very popular saying at McKinsey:
“McKinsey is more than a job, and less than a life.”
For me, it was a profound chapter.
But I had begun to lose myself in the pursuit.
Now, I hope for something simpler:
Less anxiety.
More steadiness.
A fuller life.
Because in the end, proving yourself and respecting yourself are not the same thing.
Many high-performing professionals reach similar inflection points in their careers. If you’re navigating a transition of your own, you can learn more about my coaching work here.
