It wasn't killed in favor of Google+. It was killed because nobody wanted to work on it and nobody wanted to fund it.
Reader had been running on a shoestring budget for years with only one or two engineers. It was beginning to show its cracks, and at the time there was a giant push to move to Kennedy (the UI design pattern with whitespace everywhere and one or two red buttons). There weren't enough engineers to do that migration and solve some of the underlying problems.
Nobody wanted to work on it because there wasn't anything in it you could use for promo. "Kept Reader running" on your perf packet would get you a Meets Expectations at best. It might be seen negatively by some. To get a promo you needed big sexy new features. And at the time there was a promo factory that was sucking up all of the prime engineers (cough Google+ cough). It was also popular among employees, and there was a "Save Reader" campaign, but nobody cared enough to actually try to transfer in.
No director wanted it either. It wasn't profitable. It wasn't driving traffic to other Google properties. It was basically a money sink and nobody wanted to be tied to it as a failure.
Source: I was on Google+ (it was a promo factory). My team worked on a number of features that were meant to be used by third parties to tie into Plus. One of those was the comments system. Before the Google+ YouTube comment debacle there were plans to offer that comment system directly to third parties (similar to Disqus). We pitched Google+ taking over Reader and using it as a proving ground for that comment system. As a side bonus, blogs that signed on would already have a (hopefully) vibrant comment history. Management didn't see the value. Google+ comments rolled out to YouTube, it was a disaster, and all those lines of code were lost in time, like tears in rain.
It's always seemed strange to me how singularly obsessed Google culture seems to be with the idea of promotions. All the weird things Google does seem to come down to "that's what gets people promoted". But... why? It doesn't seem like Googlers are systematically underpaid, so why is promotion such a focus?
Maybe this is part of the reason my own stint at Google didn't work out so well.
I think there's a complicated answer to that, with a ton of potential reasons and side effects. I can boil my reasons down to 3:
1.) I was L5, and while there were a ton of great L6s, there were not an insignificant number of ones who were terrible. I think L6 would have been the right level for me; L7 was beyond me at the time. People at higher levels don't really seem to work any harder. That translates to the feeling that I'm getting less pay than I deserve. This is why I ultimately left, and I immediately found a job at L6 equivalency.
2.) My manager pushed me towards promotion. My manager was L6, going for L7, and he had way too many direct reports (more than 20). His plan was to move up and have me fill in the vacuum behind him. Without someone to take on that role he was getting denied his promotion.
3.) I wasn't a Google lifer. I wanted to work for a smaller company where I have more of an impact on the bottom line, and I cared about what I was working on, maybe a startup. Unfortunately I have the three deadly "M"s for startup founders (Marriage, Mortgage, and Munchkins). My plan is to wait until the kids are out (1 "M" down). I could get the house paid off by that point with the extra equity that comes in a promotion (2 "M"s down). And I supported my spouse when she started her own business; she wants to support me in mine (that's all 3 "M"s). TL;DR - A promotion would have allowed me to close out all of my debts, freeing me up to not work at Google.
But I think on top of all of that, you have to get people to want to work on your project. Some projects are fun or have social clout, but come with no chance of promotion (I worked on Memegen for 4 years because it was fun). Some projects suck, but they come with promo opportunities. Projects that suck and don't come with a promise of promo don't get engineers applying to transfer in (this is what killed Reader).
Hey, just wanted to say I appreciate you sharing this insight. I still miss Reader even though it's been 10 years (10 years, holy crap), but this at least explains the 'why'.
> It wasn't driving traffic to other Google properties.
It wasn't driving measurable traffic. If the choice is A) people loving one of your products or B) people hating your brand. Behind which door is the money?
Reader had been running on a shoestring budget for years with only one or two engineers. It was beginning to show its cracks, and at the time there was a giant push to move to Kennedy (the UI design pattern with whitespace everywhere and one or two red buttons). There weren't enough engineers to do that migration and solve some of the underlying problems.
Nobody wanted to work on it because there wasn't anything in it you could use for promo. "Kept Reader running" on your perf packet would get you a Meets Expectations at best. It might be seen negatively by some. To get a promo you needed big sexy new features. And at the time there was a promo factory that was sucking up all of the prime engineers (cough Google+ cough). It was also popular among employees, and there was a "Save Reader" campaign, but nobody cared enough to actually try to transfer in.
No director wanted it either. It wasn't profitable. It wasn't driving traffic to other Google properties. It was basically a money sink and nobody wanted to be tied to it as a failure.
Source: I was on Google+ (it was a promo factory). My team worked on a number of features that were meant to be used by third parties to tie into Plus. One of those was the comments system. Before the Google+ YouTube comment debacle there were plans to offer that comment system directly to third parties (similar to Disqus). We pitched Google+ taking over Reader and using it as a proving ground for that comment system. As a side bonus, blogs that signed on would already have a (hopefully) vibrant comment history. Management didn't see the value. Google+ comments rolled out to YouTube, it was a disaster, and all those lines of code were lost in time, like tears in rain.