It wasn't the weather - that was great.
It wasn't the traffic - I grew up outside of chicago and lived all over the country. It's not fun, but it's not a big deal.
It wasn't the cost of living - pay was commiserate with the increased costs.
I loved that the Frys was right down the street, that I could get great food from a million different cultures easily, and that there was so much to do and see and hear.
It was the people, though, that made it horrible. Shallow, money-oriented, image-driven, always so focused on labeling everyone: Suit, Hippy, LGBT Activist, Clubber, Gang Member, Artist, etc.
Story time: I worked at a big company in the area, we had 3 buildings on the campus I was on, each 3 floors, each with at least 1000 employees. At 4:30, I was working on my floor by myself. How do I know? The overhead fluorescents were sensor based, and only the one by my cube was still on. I was organizing test results in an excel sheet when I heard the mechanical 'ka-chunk' and humming noise that indicated another group of lights had just spun up.
It was the cleaning staff. I watched as each bank of lights turned on as they made their way down the path, a slow snake of lights as they explored the bin in each cube, till they arrived at mine.
He was an illegal. I'm not judging. He radiated it without shame. He wore that identity like a comfortable sweater, and exuded it in his body language and broken english. Folks like that probably don't get the acknowledgement they deserve, so I made it a point to always smile, make eye contact, and nod to them when I see them.
So I smile, make eyecontact, and nod at him. He looks at the screen, sees numbers, looks at me - young, working late by the standards of my coworkers - makes some sort of decision about social interactions - and starts giving me quetionable stock market tips in a thick Latin (or maybe Portuguese) accent.
So I thank him for that, smile broadly and make sure to include my eyes in the smile so he knows I appreciate it, make some statement about how work never seems to end for folks like us, and go back to it.
But internally, I'm putting him in the bucket with everyone else. He can't even speak english, and what he wants to do is talk stocks? This is a guy who - and yes, I am judging here a bit - probably hasn't got a legitimate bank account, much less trading account, and he vacuums office buildings for a living. Given his current situation, he does not instill within me the belief that he is a highly successful backchannel stock market advisor. ... but that's not his fault. He seemed like a hard working, genuine person in all other ways. See, that's what this area does to you. You end up getting hollowed out, till you're focused on the money and outer appearances. You start thinking those are the most important things, the things that defines you and allows you to relate to others.
The mail guy (we were big enough to have an actual mail department) bought an 80,000 dollar car. He HAD to. He couldn't afford it, but he HAD to have it. He couldn't justify it any other way except that it was expected, knowing he had to, to be known, caring that others cared about him for his car.
That's my takeaway from the bay area. Nice place to visit, but for the people.