Exit Announcers

Spoiler alert: we don't care

There are two kinds of people - those who slip out the back door unnoticed, and then there are Exit Announcers.

I belong to the first camp. Whether you call it ghosting, an Irish Goodbye, or a French Exit, I like to leave quietly and quickly. This applies to parties, groups, and some relationships. Here’s how I see it: it’s a personal decision; my depature doesn’t make a difference in anyone’s life. I don’t need to provide a reason. Nobody needs to know that my feet are killing me and threatening to defect. I don’t want to hear rebuttals about why I should stay. Not one soul cares if I’m offended by group politics. Everyone can eventually notice that I’m gone.

Exit Announcers simply can’t depart a group, end a relationship, or even leave a club without making a grand proclamation.

For example, I moderate a book club that has 17K members (don’t ask). So, say you’re in a book club, minding your own business, just trying to get recommendations. Enter Amelia, who decides that reading Moby Dick just isn’t her jam. She doesn’t like Moby Dick, and in fact, has a problem with anyone who considers it a beloved must-read. She makes caustic comments, insults their upbringing, because “how could they??”

She is so disturbed that she decides to leave the group. That’s fine. It’s her decision. But does she quietly bow out? Of course not. Amelia feels compelled to write a soliloquy explaining in excruciating detail why the literary exploits of a whale-hunting captain do not align with her personal growth trajectory. “I need to focus on self-care,” she declares, “and this book’s negative energy is just too much.”

Thanks, Amelia. Nobody cares. Your post will be immediately deleted.

Or let’s discuss Greg, who’s breaking up with his girlfriend. Pre Meta, a breakup might have been a private, albeit painful, conversation. Not for Greg. Greg needs to post a lengthy Facebook status detailing the “emotional journey” that led to this “mutual decision.” He thanks her for the “memories” and wishes her “all the best” in future endeavors, as if he’s addressing an employee leaving the company. The comments section becomes a free-for-all of support, advice, and popcorn emojis as everyone pulls up a virtual chair to watch the drama unfold. Also? Greg is trying to low-key let everyone know that he’s single in case there were any lurking admirers. We see you, Greg. And we wish you’d stop.

And then there’s the gym. You’re just trying to get through your workout when Tammy announces to the entire class that she’s “taking a break from CrossFit to focus on yoga.” She then spends the next ten minutes detailing her newfound love for downward dog and inner peace. We get it, Tammy. You’ve found your zen. Meanwhile, the rest of us are just trying to survive burpees without an existential crisis. Shut it, Tammy!

These Exit Announcers operate under the belief that their departure is a cataclysmic event that demands attention and explanation. It’s as if they think the group will fall apart without them, or that their relationship status is of global interest. In reality, most of us are just scrolling through, trying to find that recipe or wondering why there’s suddenly so much drama over a book club.

But here’s the thing: the more dramatic the exit, the less anyone really cares. If Amelia had just quietly left the book club, we’d have noticed her absence (or not), shrugged, and moved on. If Greg had ended things with his girlfriend privately, we’d all be spared the Facebook therapy session. And if Tammy had simply stopped showing up to CrossFit, we’d still be gasping for air, blissfully unaware of her yoga enlightenment.

So, here’s to the silent leavers, the ones who slip away without a word. Thank you. You understand that not every exit requires a speech. Sometimes, it’s okay to just leave. No announcements, no explanations, no dramatics. Just a quiet, dignified departure.

And to the Exit Announcers of the world: we get it. You want closure, or maybe just a bit (or a lot) of attention. But sometimes, less is more. Just move on quietly and trust that the world will keep turning. Your absence will be noted, and life will go on, one less dramatic announcement at a time.

I’m leaving now! Cheers!