As in personal lives, organisations too are places where friendships form, identities take shape, and endings occur – sometimes planned, sometimes not. People, after all, generally spend more waking hours at work than they do at home. It’s not just business – it can feel very personal. 

When the exit isn’t entirely of your own choosing – through restructuring or “no longer a fit” – the emotional and power dynamics are often underestimated. In the earlier Holding the Frame pieces, I explored how systems decide who’s supported, who’s stretched, and who’s ultimately pruned. Organisational exits are often the moment those decisions become visible. 

In theory, company exits are handled by process – HR protocols, legal agreements, timelines, written communications. In practice, this takes place in conditions of uncertainty, fear, and heightened emotion. People are expected to make clear decisions at precisely the moment their internal frame is most destabilised. And the residue left behind doesn’t disappear – it seeps into the culture going forward. 

Very few environments acknowledge this gap. Exits that are imposed – such as retrenchment, being managed out, “mutual separations” that aren’t truly mutual – carry a particular weight. They often arrive suddenly with limited time to process what’s happening. The most common responses include shock and disbelief, and either a need to defend one’s narrative – to explain and justify, or to go silent with numbness.  

In these moments, people are most at risk of reacting rather than thoughtfully choosing how best to respond. WhatsApp messages and emails are hammered out, and things are said that people may later  regret. Legal positions may harden prematurely, and reputations (and even friendships) carefully built over years can be unintentionally damaged in days. Others may leave without a fuss, but with feelings of betrayal. 

To “hold the frame“ during an organisational exit is to introduce the correct process and structure before action – distinguishing what must be addressed now from what can wait, and making decisions with an eye on long-term consequence rather than short-term relief. This isn’t about denying emotion, but rather ensuring emotion doesn’t drive strategy. It’s simply about the right support under pressure. 

Most organisations are well prepared for people joining, but are far less thoughtful about exit. When exits are poorly handled, people are left to navigate a complex mix of legal, emotional, financial, and reputational considerations on their own, often while feeling exposed or diminished. Those who remain watch and learn, and the grapevine comes alive – people start wondering if they should start planning their own exits.  

In senior roles, this is compounded by visibility. Titles may change overnight, but expectations of composure remain. People are expected to “handle it well” without being given the space or structure to do so. Often a fair severance package is deemed enough. Silence is interpreted as composure, and reactivity taken as proof that the decision is justified. The result is distorted narratives and possiblelong-term reputational damage – for both the individual and the organisation.

Containment during these times is knowing when not to respond immediately, what not to put in writing, how to manage both internal and external narratives, and how to leave without burning bridges or diminishing yourself or anyone else in the process. 

Change is constant. Transitions are inevitable. Handled well, an exit can be a moment of integrity even when outcomes are difficult.