Pros
I genuinely wanted to stay. I enjoyed the work and respected many of my colleagues. The Director of Marketing is a exceptional human being. But I left after being consistently underappreciated, underpaid, undervalued—strung along by empty promises of potential, and deliberately targeted by an executive. In the early stages, the role offered real autonomy and the opportunity to drive impact. I managed six-figure monthly Facebook ad budgets, led conversion rate optimization, funnel strategy, and performance optimization efforts, and worked within a pay-per-lead model that reinforced accountability and ROI. I was brought in to take over a failing vertical, which I successfully turned around by building operational systems and training team members—many of whom had no prior Facebook Ads experience and still rely on the structure I implemented to this day.
Cons
I don’t write Glassdoor reviews—or reviews in general. I usually find them pointless and often exaggerated. But this was a different situation—something I’ve never experienced in my professional career and worthy of words. If you’re a digital marketer managing $25,000+ monthly in Facebook ad spend, look elsewhere—this place punishes performance and proven pedigrees. I was brought in to fix a broken vertical—and I did. Performance improved, the team stabilized, dispositions were great and clients were happy. But instead of a promotion or path forward, I was slowly pushed aside. My title changed four times with little to no explanation—including two demotions in a single year. It’s hard to take pride in your work when every step forward is quietly erased, no matter the results. It's demoralizing. Recognition disappeared. My impact was quietly diminished—acknowledged by no one, preserved by nothing. For nearly two years—no reviews, no feedback. Strategic initiatives I built were rebranded and presented by others. Even those I mentored distanced themselves when it was convenient. Underperformance was ignored or excused, while those actually delivering were routinely belittled, second-guessed, and held to impossible standards. It was an uneven culture that pretended to value “family” while tolerating dysfunction. When I was displaced by a natural disaster (and still am, six months later), living through instability and uncertainty, not a single person from this so-called “family” culture genuinely checked in. No support. No outreach. Silence. Later, after being demoted, another manager told me an executive had made a comment along the lines of, “That’s what you get for living there.” The same indifference applied elsewhere—women who had children received little acknowledgment from leadership. In several cases, it was left to coworkers to organize gifts or recognition for expecting mothers. What kind of "culture" ignores something as fundamental as new life? It's not just cold—it’s bizarre. Yet those same executives expected the company to chip in for their own Christmas gifts. The hypocrisy wasn’t just obvious—it was offensive. Meetings were performative, not productive—driven by optics and posturing rather than outcomes or meaningful decision-making. Sales routinely sabotaged campaigns—adding, stopping or pausing clients mid-flight, preventing proper learning and optimization—then pinned the failure on marketing. Despite its size, Dev couldn’t deliver stable reporting or the tools needed to operate at scale. “Features and outages” was more than a joke—it was the norm. Inexperienced leadership prioritized performative initiatives over real impact, protecting careers instead of growing the business—leading to busywork, churn, and the quiet loss of high performers. I’ve worked in digital marketing for over 20 years—in startups, SMBs, and enterprise orgs. I’ve seen pressure. I’ve seen dysfunction. But I’ve never seen a company more committed to erasing those who actually deliver.
