Why I’m Constantly One Bad Meeting Away From Rage‑Quitting My Job

I work for a global tech giant.

Yep. That kind.

The kind where everything — and I mean everything — revolves around the USA.

I am one of the only people in my team based in Australia. Which, in theory, makes diversity stats look great. In practice, it means living in a professional twilight zone where time zones are a suggestion, boundaries are optional, and common sense appears to be a deprecated feature.

I have had to actively stop myself from rage‑quitting more times than I can count.

Midnight Meetings: Because Sleep Is Apparently Optional

Let’s start with the classics.

Meeting invites sent for 12:00am.

Not emergencies.

Not outages.

Just… meetings.

My time zone is:

• Displayed in Microsoft Teams

• Displayed in Outlook

• Displayed in my email signature

• Configured in my working hours (which shows when I’m available)

And yet — these invites still land.

It’s almost impressive how thoroughly this information is ignored, as though a tiny USA‑centric brain sees “AEST” and simply short-circuits.

The 1am Ping… Followed by the 3am Guilt Trip

Even better?

Being pinged on Teams at 1:00am.

My status clearly shows I’m offline. Sleeping. Like a human.

Then, two hours later — another ping:

“Why haven’t you done this yet?”

“Just following up.”

“Can we get an update?”

Ah yes. Because I was meant to wake up at 1am, process a task, and deliver outcomes by 3–4am — all while demonstrating the initiative of someone who never sleeps.

Totally reasonable.

The Nit‑Picking Olympics

We change team names, structures, and leaders every 3–4 months.

So you might have a meeting invite titled:

“Aussies Rule”

And suddenly — amidst a whack‑a‑mole barrage of knee‑jerk “P1s” — this becomes a crisis.

“This meeting title must be changed immediately to ‘Aussies Don’t Rule’.”

I’m sorry — what?

We’re inside a global corporation haemorrhaging productivity and somehow the phrasing of an internal calendar invite is now business‑critical?

I cannot begin to describe how soul‑sucking it is to watch energy be funnelled into things that absolutely, categorically do not matter — while real problems quietly rot in the background.

Senior Role, Junior Utilisation

I am a Senior Program Manager.

Which, in this tech company's reality, seems to mean:

“You’re a bum on a seat. Here’s some work.”

Regardless of whether:

• It aligns with my strengths

• It matches my expertise

• It makes sense for the role

I’m suddenly expected to do hardcore data analysis in massively complex spreadsheets.

FFS.

This is a tech company. With all the tools, money, and talent in the world. And yet we rely on Frankenstein spreadsheets held together by hope, macros from 2014, and one person who “knows how it works”.

Why are we not building tools to do this properly? (Oh shit. Internal question! Doh!)

This is like hiring a pilot and then asking them to push the plane down the runway themselves.

The Politics. Oh God, the Politics.

Everyone has a boss. Fine.

But then there are peers who catch a whiff of proximity to power and suddenly start tasking you like they’re your manager.

Because:

• They’re friends with your 2‑up

• They’re gunning for a promotion

• They like how authority feels

And you’re sitting there thinking:

“Absolutely fucking not.”

This isn’t leadership.

This is ego.

And yes — it’s like the boys’ club, but with different outfits.

Power, apparently, is still intoxicating — no matter the gender.

Tool Ownership and Things That Simply Don’t Work

Then there’s the issue of tool ownership and the tools we’re expected to use. I’m constrained by region‑specific IT policies that determine what will and won’t work on my laptop. These restrictions significantly limit my access and prevent my tooling from functioning in the same way as it does for my USA counterparts.

I originally built a Power BI dashboard, including the backend and logic, but this was later handed over to a new team when they joined. Since that handover, the dashboard has been plagued with major bugs. The most frustrating part is that I was not granted access to help troubleshoot or fix the issues at all. (I still don't have access.)

On top of this, the data refresh schedule was configured to suit only their needs. As a result, when I attempted to troubleshoot issues using the data, it would often refresh before I could finish, or the team would fix something without informing me. Then, when my manager reviewed the dashboard, they were told “it works for us”, which made it appear as though the issue was somehow my fault or due to incompetence on my part.

When Experience Stops Being Valued and Starts Being Exploited

I am well over 40.

I’ve won special CEO awards.

I’ve delivered [record breaking] results across decades.

I’ve lead, carried lifted and cried with teams through chaos.

And yet this last year?

A bull in a china shop shitshow.

A new team merged with us. Nothing aligned. Everything broke. And instead of slowing down to fix foundations, the organisation hit the accelerator and hoped for the best.

I've been responsible for a Global Program for the last 2 years, and now suddenly meetings are happening about my Program, without me. No recordings of meetings for me to watch, yet I am tagged with Action Items. And the kicker? These people are "executives" who are now suddenly taking it upon themselves to do my Program with no inclusion or communication. They get crucial information wrong and then expect me to fix the shit they created.

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

Context? Who needs fucking context these days?

I’ve had resignation emails drafted. Ready to go. Week after week.

I’ve hovered on the edge — exhausted, disillusioned, and furious.

The Toy Story Effect

The best way I can describe it?

I feel like a toy being passed from kid to kid.

Pulled apart.

Reassigned.

Dropped.

Picked up again.

No ownership.

No continuity.

No respect for what came before.

Just an endless cycle of:

“We need you to help with this now.”

And then:

“Why aren’t you already done?”

So Why Haven’t I Quit?

Honestly?

Because rage‑quitting feels good for about 12 seconds — and then reality kicks in.

Because I still believe in good work.

Because I’m not done contributing.

Because walking away doesn’t automatically mean the bullshit wins — but neither does staying silent.

Because the cost of living and adulting 101 responsibilities mean I need to provide my share for my household.

Right now, the work is learning where to draw the line without burning everything down.

How to stop internalising dysfunction as personal failure.

How to say “no” without apologising.

How to remember that systemic chaos is not a reflection of my worth.

I have a lot of respect and admiration for my direct boss and some of my colleagues. However, that's where my admiration ends. I'm on the lookout for contract work that aligns with my Australian time zone, though I'm aware this is a slow period for new contracts to start. I'll be like a spider, continuously putting the feelers out there on my web.

I wish I could share specific real-life examples, but as we know, defamation is a concern, so I need to be cautious.

Final Truth

This isn’t about being “resilient” or “grateful”.

It’s about recognising when an environment is no longer designed for humans — and resisting the urge to torch your own future just to escape the present moment.

Some days that resistance is strong.

Other days…

Well.

The resignation e-mail is still there.