I was one of those high flyers at work, going from job to job, couple of years at the most between each role. Young for some of the roles that I had. Burnout by the time I got to my early 40s’. You know the drill.
I found myself aged 29 sat in a lobby of a national organisation where I had previously, some 8 years earlier, been a Sunday night helpline volunteer. A graduate, living back at my mum and dads, doing voluntary work to try and get one foot on the employment ladder, such was the non-immediate vocational nature of my first degree.
Taking calls, sometimes from people that genuinely wanted help, sometimes from others that also wanted help, but for a different reason. One that in other circumstances they’d be paying to get, by the minute. You would know immediately what type of help was required and for the latter, quickly going through the putting the phone down script before you could slam it down and go wash your ears out.
I digress. So back to the lobby, with a welcome board with my name on it, announcing my arrival in the building, such was the high profile nature of the job that I had. I was working in government by then, responsible for a policy area of which this organisation was delivering some great work in.
I was a couple of years in by then. Used to the idea that for some people, being in that role meant that you were automatically at the top of the Christmas card list, whether you were a good, bad, effective or ineffective individual. You mattered, to them, just by virtue of your job title.
Also knowing that it was all false and reminding myself there and then in that moment that you believe in your own self-importance and hype at your peril. Which came in handy as it happened as not long after that I found myself in the face no longer fitting camp.
A new boss, with new ideas and new priorities, one of which wasn’t me carrying on in role I had, but going off to do something different, somewhere different and most importantly far away from him. It was dressed up as an opportunity for me to create something new, but I understood it as an opportunity to find something new. Which I did, a couple of months later. Onwards.
What I remember from that time, the limbo time of realising that my face didn’t fit and working out what I was going to do next was the discombobulating misery and shame of it all. The desire to carry on doing the best job I could at the same time as knowing that my time was up. My influence too.
It might have been the first time that my face didn’t fit, but not the last. The next time came some years later. Bigger job, different role, similar feelings. Sadness, discombobulation, humiliation and shame.
I write about it now, as while its rear view mirror stuff personally, I see it up front and personal far too often with some of the clients that I work with and some of the people that contact me through Linkedin.
People that have left their roles in such a way that they have been damaged, saddened, hurt, humiliated and ashamed in the process. Sometimes being treated so badly that it can take years to process what happened and work their way through what the learning is for them and what should never have happened in any organisation, never mind the ones that profess to be values driven public sector organisations.
People that are so terrified of having signed an NDA that they feel as though there is no one that they can talk through their feelings with, extract the learning from and safely discard the rest as it belongs to specific people, politics and places and doesn’t really have a legitimate place in the rucksack of experiences they will draw on for future roles.
People that have fallen out with colleagues, the organisation or simply have ended up being the problem child of the organisation, skulking out of the building without fanfare or recognition, 10, 20, 30 years into their roles.
It leaves me with questions about what does a good leaving look like. How do we help people leave well. With dignity and grace, knowing what their contribution was, what they may need to learn for future roles, but fundamentally enabling them to leave knowing that they were maybe the right flower in the wrong soil conditions.
- A chance to say goodbye to colleagues. Even if it has to be in writing, being able to write something that enables someone to say goodbye and close that chapter.
- The ability to keep in touch with colleagues, whether that be via a professional or social network, and maintain those relationships into the future.
- The offer of an exit interview to find out more about why the person is leaving and what the learning might be for the organisation.
- The opportunity to have a handover process with someone in the organisation that cares about what will happen to the work after the person has left.
- A way of showing appreciation and acknowledging the contribution of an individual, whether that be a letter, card or small gift or celebration.
- A reference for future employers that goes beyond dates of employment but offers some context and detail about who the person was and what they achieved.
I’d love to know what else could be on that list from your own experience. What your best experience of leaving has been and how organisations can do this better.
