The three-sentence version
Write a version that fits in three sentences, out loud, without your voice climbing. One sentence on what the job was and what you did well. One sentence on what changed — restructure, new leadership, a role that shifted away from what you were hired for, a culture that stopped fitting. One sentence on what you want next, phrased forwards.
Something like: "I ran the client side of the team for three years and grew it. After the merger, the role became mostly reporting, and the way decisions were made stopped being something I could stand behind. I'm looking for a place where I'm close to the actual work again."
Notice what that does. It names a real reason without prosecuting anyone. It gives the listener nothing to chase. And it ends on appetite rather than injury, which is the part interviewers are actually listening for. Practise it in the car until it sounds boring to you. Boring is the goal; boring means it has stopped being a wound and become a fact.
What to leave out — and where it goes instead
Leave out names. Leave out the sentence that starts "and then she actually said—". Leave out the numbers that only prove you were right. Leave out the diagnosis of anyone's personality. Not because your read was wrong, but because in a professional room, the speaker carries the tone of anything they describe. Describe chaos with heat and you will sound like part of it.
The anger still needs somewhere to go, though, or it leaks out sideways in job interviews and at 11pm. Give it a container: a private document you never send, one friend who gets the unabridged version on a walk, or a proper conversation with a therapist or coach if it is still running your sleep months later. Grief about work is real grief. It just shouldn't be doing your negotiating for you.
