The page is not flattering, which is the first indication that it is real. Vos publishes what happened to the people she coached: still in role, promoted, moved, left the industry. Two years and five years out. The bad cohort from 2023 is on there, labelled.
"The year I got it wrong is the most useful row in the table," she says. "It is the only one that proves I am not choosing what to show you."
What she will not publish
A satisfaction score. Not because hers is poor — it is, she says with some irritation, excellent, which is exactly the problem.
"Everyone's is excellent. A high-four out of five, universally, across a profession with no barrier to entry. It is not a measurement, it is a politeness reflex, and the moment you renew a coach on it you have hired someone whose job is to be pleasant."
She has lost at least two procurement processes over the refusal. She counts this as the method working.
The copilot in the room
Vos has tried the live-assistant tooling that four of the six largest platforms now ship, and turned it off after three sessions.
"It is very good at telling me what I noticed thirty seconds ago. The problem is the day it tells me something I did not notice and I take it, because I am tired and it sounds right."
Her sharper objection is about the record. Automatic transcription moves a confidential conversation onto the platform's side of the contract — a party with no relationship to the client and every incentive to comply with a subpoena quickly.
"Coaching has never had privilege. What it had was the practical protection of there being nothing to disclose. We gave that away for better notes."
The argument she is losing
Vos knows her position on measurement is a minority one and is candid that it may not survive contact with the market. The employers she works with are being asked, increasingly, to evidence competence, and a table with a bad year in it is a harder sell than a five-star badge.
"Then I will be expensive and unfashionable," she says. "I have been both before."