Remember the letter-writer who had to edit the work of a coworker who couldn’t stand her? Here’s the update.
Since I wasn’t able to participate in the comments, I figured I’d share some context on things people seemed curious about.
Edits were mostly QC items like, “Please check formatting (font changes halfway through!)” or “The client preferred X strategy, so let’s reframe for that timeline.” Leadership’s perspective was essentially, “He needs to deal with this, so we won’t read his mind when he isn’t saying anything.” His line manager was also aware, but very hands-off with her reports. Quentin had talked with multiple people about my role and why this particular team was heavier on feedback than others — a busy client in a highly regulated industry. He responded positively in the moment, but it didn’t change anything.
A common theme in the comments was basically, “Why care so much?” Valid! It was interesting to reflect on, since (spoiler!) I’m now entirely removed from the situation. Here’s my psychoanalysis:
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To get the selfish thing out of the way: I was gunning for an early promotion to a role with even more management responsibilities. I was scared this was a sign I would crash and burn if I got it, so I compulsively needed to fix things. I’ve admittedly edited too harshly at another job — as a TA, my professors would give points back during grading sessions because I stuck closer to the letter of the rubric than the spirit. Because of that, I second-guessed myself, which then irked the team leads who wanted me to own the process.
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The weird vibe felt like it was expanding. Quentin wasn’t just cold about constructive criticism anymore, but also when I complimented his work, asked questions, or ended up in the same conversation circles at work events.
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Burnout is incredibly common in our industry. I worried he was on the brink and that I had contributed. I’d onboarded Quentin for his internship when I was a first year, so I felt some responsibility for his development.
What Actually Happened
After the “performative” conversation, I called our team’s VP, Margo — Quentin’s own example of “meaningful” feedback. We talked it all through, and I told her that while I was fine to keep my head down, I was concerned about how down Quentin seemed.
At that point, Margo decided she would take point on reviewing his work. As someone in the comments also noted, her edits are lighter because she’s giving a final gloss after the mid-level reviewer — me — should have done the heavy lifting. She’d take on the work temporarily to reinforce that my feedback was normal and hopefully reset the team dynamic.
And it did seem to help. However, I was recruited to another job just a few weeks later, so what was meant to be a temporary arrangement became a more long-term situation than initially intended.
I was recently told by a trusted source that after working closely with Margo for a few more weeks, Quentin started complaining about her feedback and even calling her “a bitch” to other colleagues behind her back. Margo is one of the most talented, kind, and well-respected people at that company — appalling on so many levels.
It’s been about six months since writing, and I’m so grateful this all feels like reading a letter from someone else. I’ve been a dedicated reader for years, so it was surreal to have something posted — and even more so to be walking away from the situation with this much clarity.
