Blog
The Hardest Conversation: Why Most Managers Are Getting Layoffs Completely Wrong
Related Articles:
Nobody teaches you how to fire someone in business school. They should.
After seventeen years in management consulting and watching hundreds of leaders completely bungle layoff conversations, I've realised something disturbing: we're treating the most emotionally charged moment in someone's career like a routine performance review. And we're all paying the price.
The research is stark—87% of employees who survive layoffs report decreased trust in leadership. But here's what nobody talks about: the managers delivering these conversations are just as traumatised. I've seen senior executives vomit before difficult termination meetings. I've watched seasoned HR directors quit rather than handle another round of redundancies.
The Emotional Minefield
Let's be honest about what's really happening in these conversations. You're not just ending someone's employment. You're potentially destroying their mortgage payments. You're forcing them to explain to their kids why they can't afford dance lessons anymore. You're triggering every insecurity they've ever had about their professional worth.
The person across from you might cry. They might get angry. They might ask you why their colleague—who clearly contributes less—is keeping their job. These are reasonable human responses to an unreasonable situation.
But here's where most managers go wrong: they try to manage these emotions away.
"It's just business," they say. "Don't take it personally."
Bollocks. Of course it's personal. Someone's livelihood just evaporated. Their identity, tied up in their role and title, just got shredded. Pretending otherwise is not just insensitive—it's counterproductive.
The Authenticity Problem
I was working with a manufacturing company in Adelaide last year. The CEO insisted on delivering all redundancy conversations himself because he "owed it to the team." Noble sentiment. Terrible execution.
He used the same script for everyone: "Unfortunately, due to economic pressures beyond our control, we need to eliminate your position." Word for word. Twenty-three times.
By the end of the day, the script felt hollow even to him. Employees started comparing notes. They realised they'd all received an identical, rehearsed performance. The CEO thought he was showing respect by handling it personally. Instead, he demonstrated how little he actually knew about managing emotional conversations.
The problem with scripts is they assume emotions are predictable. They're not.
Some people need time to process. Others want immediate answers. Some will negotiate. Others will accept quietly and ask about their references. You can't script authenticity.
What Actually Works
After watching countless layoff conversations go sideways, I've identified three approaches that actually preserve dignity and trust:
Own the decision completely. None of this "the company has decided" rubbish. If you're delivering the message, you own it. Say "I've decided" or "we've decided." Taking responsibility doesn't make you vulnerable—it makes you credible.
Acknowledge the emotional reality. "This is probably shocking" or "I imagine this feels unfair" aren't admission of guilt. They're recognition of humanity. People don't need you to fix their emotions, but they need you to acknowledge them.
Focus on practical next steps. Emotions are temporary. Financial stress isn't. Spend more time on reference letters, transition timelines, and benefit details than on explaining the business rationale. They'll care about the reasoning later. Right now, they care about surviving.
The Manager's Emotional Journey
Here's what nobody prepares you for: you'll feel terrible too. And that's normal.
I worked with a finance director in Perth who had to eliminate twelve positions during COVID. She spent weeks agonising over the decisions, lost sleep, and questioned her competence as a leader. She thought something was wrong with her because the conversations were so difficult.
Nothing was wrong with her. Everything was wrong with the expectation that layoffs should feel routine.
Good managers feel the weight of these decisions. They should. The moment these conversations become easy is the moment you've lost your humanity as a leader.
But feeling awful doesn't mean you're doing it wrong. It means you understand what's at stake.
The Aftermath Nobody Discusses
The conversation ends. The employee leaves. And then what?
Most managers think their job is done. It's not.
The remaining team is watching everything. How you handled the terminations, how you explained the decisions, whether you seemed genuinely affected—all of this becomes part of your leadership reputation.
I've seen teams completely lose faith in leadership after poorly managed layoffs, even when the business decisions were sound. Conversely, I've watched teams rally around leaders who handled difficult conversations with genuine care and transparency.
The employees who stay are asking themselves: "Would they treat me with dignity if this happened to me?" Your answer to that question, demonstrated through your actions, determines whether you're leading a team or managing a group of people polishing their CVs.
The Uncomfortable Truth About Emotion in Business
We've been taught that professional means emotionless. Steady. Unflappable.
This is garbage advice for layoff conversations.
The most effective termination conversations I've witnessed included leaders who acknowledged their own discomfort. "This is one of the hardest parts of my job" isn't a sign of weakness. It's a sign that you understand the gravity of what you're doing.
People can sense authenticity. They can also sense when you're performing.
After years of coaching executives through these conversations, I'm convinced that the leaders who struggle most are those trying to separate their emotions from their responsibilities. You don't need to be tearful or dramatic. But you do need to be human.
Moving Forward
Layoffs are never going to be pleasant. But they don't have to be dehumanising.
The goal isn't to make anyone feel good about being terminated. The goal is to preserve their dignity and your integrity as a leader. Sometimes that means sitting in uncomfortable silence while someone processes the news. Sometimes it means acknowledging that there's no good way to deliver bad news.
What matters most is that people leave knowing they were treated like human beings, not line items on a spreadsheet.
Because at the end of the day, how you handle these conversations says more about your leadership than any performance metric ever could.
Author Bio: After 17 years advising Australian businesses through restructures, acquisitions, and economic downturns, I've learned that the hardest conversations often matter most. Currently based in Melbourne, helping leaders navigate the human side of business decisions.