This as-told-to essay originates from an extended conversation with Cher Scarlett, a 40-year-old former software engineer who now studies at a community college in Southern California. The narrative has been carefully edited for both clarity and conciseness, though what follows captures the essence of her story with depth and precision.
Cher recalls that her childhood unfolded within a household marked by turbulence and instability. Amid that unpredictability, she found herself compelled to become self-reliant at an unusually young age. By the time she was six years old, necessity had already forced her to learn how to bake bread so her family could have something to eat for dinner. That early act of resourcefulness set a lifelong precedent. A few years later, by middle school, she channeled that same independent drive into mastering a completely different craft—teaching herself how to code without guidance or formal instruction. These formative experiences planted the seeds of persistence and adaptability that would shape her adult life.
As the difficulties at home grew more severe, Cher’s situation spiraled. The environment became so intolerable that she eventually dropped out of high school, embarking on a path shadowed by hardship and poor decisions. Yet, even in the darkest chapter of her adolescence, a moment of profound change arrived: at nineteen, pregnant with her daughter, she recognized that she needed to construct a different kind of life—one driven by stability, opportunity, and purpose rather than survival alone. Motivated by that aspiration, she studied diligently to earn her GED, achieving a near-perfect score in mathematics. With no college degree but abundant determination, she managed to break into the world of technology, securing a position as a front-end engineer. Over time, her technical work didn’t just become a profession—it evolved into the central pillar of her identity, the measure by which she valued herself.
Two decades later, after an accomplished career in software development, Cher decided to resign from her position at Apple—a decision that would prove both transformative and excruciating. Departing from a company of such stature brought immense challenges, yet that difficult period also became the crucible through which she began to recognize her worth beyond professional achievement.
Throughout her career, Cher had contributed her skills to several well-known corporations, including Blizzard, Starbucks, and USA Today. While the technical projects she handled were often stimulating and occasionally groundbreaking, something ineffable was missing. She found the daily work fun yet ultimately lacking in meaning. True to her nature, she had always been outspoken in the face of injustice, consistently advocating for fairness and transparency within workplace structures. She longed to belong to an organization whose mission encompassed not only innovation but tangible social and ethical impact.
So when Apple hired her as a principal software engineer in April 2020, she believed she had finally discovered such a place. The company’s public initiatives—its investments in education, contributions to installing computers in elementary schools, and vocal support for human and environmental rights—appeared perfectly aligned with her own convictions. Growing up in the countercultural environment of 1990s Seattle, she had internalized values centered on activism and social progress. Apple seemed an ideal match for both her skill set and her moral compass.
However, that optimism would soon evolve into something unexpected. About a year into her tenure, Cher and several colleagues undertook a bold effort to collect and share the experiences of workers who felt marginalized or mistreated within the company. They called this initiative the #AppleToo movement, a platform that gave voice to employees recounting incidents of harassment, discrimination, and various forms of inequity. In addition to helping coordinate these testimonies, she co-authored an open letter addressed directly to Apple’s leadership, requesting concrete reforms in how the company managed labor complaints and sensitive workplace issues.
Merely two months after the letter went public, Cher found herself submitting her resignation. At the time, she regarded her actions not as rebellion, but as a moral obligation—a straightforward adherence to the principle she had been taught since childhood: when you witness wrongdoing, you have a duty to speak up. She did not anticipate the seismic professional repercussions that would follow, nor imagine that advocacy could reshape her career trajectory so dramatically.
Following her departure from Apple, Cher entered an emotionally complicated period. She grieved the end of her high-profile role and felt disbelief that her long tenure in technology had reached such an abrupt pause. Yet amid loss, she also sensed a spark of renewal—a cautious optimism about redefining how her programming expertise could serve a more humane purpose. Although she admitted that fear shadowed this transition, she trusted her long record of competence and assumed, as she always had, that finding another software job would be straightforward.
But this time, rejection after rejection chipped away at that certainty. Despite applying to companies that seemed aligned with her ethics, she was repeatedly turned down. Some hiring managers explicitly cited her lack of a formal computer science degree as the reason she was deemed underqualified. The rejections accumulated, creating both financial and emotional strain. By August 2023—an entire year and a half after leaving Apple—Cher’s savings were depleted. Facing mounting bills and dwindling options, she enrolled at a local community college to study computer science formally. The decision was rooted not only in economic necessity but also in identity: without her engineering role, she felt stripped of the structure and self-worth that had defined her adult life.
Compounding these difficulties, Cher’s personal circumstances took a harrowing turn. Around the same period, she left an abusive domestic relationship, forcing her to send her daughter to live in a safer environment while she herself spent nights living out of her car. Those weeks culminated in her decision to withdraw temporarily from her classes. Later, she found space in a women’s shelter, where staff connected her to a rigorous ten-week program for survivors of domestic violence. The program included daily educational sessions and multiple weekly counseling appointments, designed to help participants confront the deeper patterns that kept them tied to harmful environments. For Cher, those conversations revealed something profound: she had consistently equated professional success with personal value, investing every ounce of self-worth into her title as a software engineer while neglecting her emotional and human needs.
Emerging from the program, Cher felt transformed—as though she had shed the version of herself that was driven purely by professional validation. With renewed clarity, she returned to community college but changed her academic direction entirely. Instead of returning to computer science, she chose to pursue astrophysics and earth sciences, subjects that had always fascinated her but that she had previously deemed impractical. This time, her motivation was not career advancement but genuine intellectual fulfillment.
Her perseverance paid off. She is now poised to graduate with the highest honors, an achievement reflecting both her academic excellence and personal resilience. She has already submitted applications to several transfer programs, uncertain exactly which direction her future will take but confident that her studies will continue to bring meaning and joy. Her outlook has shifted from seeking prestige to prioritizing authenticity and satisfaction.
Looking back, Cher expresses no regret about leaving Apple. If she could alter anything, she says, it would not be her public activism but rather her decision to suffer silently during the period of domestic abuse; she wishes she had sought help sooner instead of carrying that pain in isolation. Today, she defines success on entirely new terms—no longer measured by salary, status, or influence. It now resides in personal wholeness, integrity, and emotional balance.
Her efforts have drawn renewed professional respect in academia. She has secured an internship at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory as well as a research assistant position at Caltech, roles that acknowledge her unique blend of engineering expertise and scientific curiosity. Ironically, the very programming experience that once dominated her identity has now become a valuable but proportionate part of her varied self. She sees these accomplishments as opportunities to reclaim, rather than be consumed by, her past.
For Cher, returning to college has provided something no corporate role ever could: genuine affirmation for her perseverance and intellect. The recognition she now receives speaks directly to the neglected child she once was—the little girl who worked hard in obscurity, craving acknowledgment that never came. Through education and healing, she has learned to recognize her inherent worth, one not dependent on professional titles but rooted in her enduring capacity to grow, to overcome, and to begin again.
Individuals who have left traditional career paths to forge unconventional new directions are invited to share their own experiences with the reporter at tmartinelli@businessinsider.com.
Sourse: https://www.businessinsider.com/apple-engineer-quit-job-started-over-2025-11
