written by Nick Roud, Outplacement Coach, 15th October 2026, Auckland, New Zealand
Over the past ten years, I have sat with many people in the days, weeks and months after their role has been disestablished. Some were senior executives. Some were emerging leaders. Some had spent twenty or thirty years building a career around one organisation, one title, one way of being useful.
They arrived with different stories, but very often the same look in their eyes.
Not weakness. Not failure. Something quieter and heavier: I did not expect my working life to change without my permission.
Redundancy is usually described in business language: restructure, alignment, cost reduction, role disestablishment. But for the person receiving the news, it rarely feels like a business decision. It feels personal. It touches identity, confidence, money, family, status, routine, belonging and the future.
This article is not about blame. It is not about whether a redundancy was handled well or badly. It is simply about the human experience underneath it the raw feelings people carry, and the feelings leaders often carry too. If someone you know be it in your team, in your community or in your family is going through redundancy please share this article with them. Thank you.
The moment the news lands
For many people, redundancy begins before the meeting. A calendar invitation appears. A leader’s tone changes. A project is paused. A rumour moves through the floor. People start reading signals they cannot yet name.
One person told me, “I knew something was wrong when my manager asked if I had ten minutes. Nobody asks for ten minutes on a Tuesday unless something is coming.”
When the news is confirmed, the first feeling is often not sadness. It is shock.
The mind tries to make sense of it immediately: Did I miss something? Was I not good enough? Why me? Why now? What do I tell my partner? What do I tell the kids? How will I pay the mortgage?
People often describe a strange separation from themselves. They can hear the words being said, but the meaning takes time to arrive. Some go quiet. Some become very practical. Some laugh inappropriately. Some cry. Some feel nothing at all for a few hours, then feel everything at once.
Research consistently finds that job loss can bring shock, disorientation, insecurity, grief, shame, anger and a loss of self-esteem. Work is not only income; it provides structure, identity, purpose and social connection.
“It is not personal but it feels personal”
Leaders often say, “It is not personal, it is a business decision.” That may be true. But it does not stop it feeling personal.
Your role is where you have spent your energy. It is where you have solved problems, carried pressure, mentored people, earned trust, paid bills and proved something to yourself. When that role disappears, the question is not only, “What job will I do next?” It is also, “Who am I now?”
One senior leader said to me in a coaching session two weeks ago, “I have been a finance director for eighteen years. I do not know how to introduce myself without that title.”
Another said, “I was not upset about the money at first. I was upset that I felt disposable.”
That sentence stays with me.
Redundancy can make a competent, respected, hard-working person question everything. Not because they are fragile, but because the loss reaches into the part of us that wants to matter, contribute and belong.
The feelings people rarely say out loud
In coaching conversations, once the initial shock settles, people often name feelings they have not said to colleagues, family or friends.
Shame
Even when someone knows the decision was structural, shame can arrive uninvited.
“I felt embarrassed walking into the school pickup.”
“I did not want anyone at my old gym to ask what I was doing now.”
“I kept thinking people would assume I must have done something wrong.”
Shame is powerful because it makes people hide. And hiding makes the experience lonelier.
Anger
Anger can be directed at the organisation, the leader, HR, the market, the board, or themselves.
“After everything I gave them.”
“They knew months ago and I found out in a fifteen-minute meeting.”
“I worked weekends for that business.”
Anger is not always unreasonable. It can be a response to feeling unseen, unheard or poorly treated. But it can also become a place to live if there is no space to process it.
Fear
Fear is often practical at first: income, mortgage, school fees, retirement, visa status, health insurance, superannuation. Then it becomes broader: Will I get another role? Am I too old? Have I been out of the market too long? Will anyone want me?
Fear can make people rush. It can push them into applying for anything, accepting the first offer, or pretending they are fine when they are not.
Grief
Redundancy is a loss. Not only of a job, but of relationships, rhythm, recognition, status and a version of the future the person had imagined.
People grieve the team they loved. The office they walked into. The identity they had. The plans they had made. The person they thought they were becoming.
One executive told me, “I did not expect to mourn a workplace. But I did.”
Research on redundancy describes it as a form of workplace grief, often beginning before the loss is formally confirmed and continuing through shock, loss and the slow work of rebuilding.
Relief and guilt about relief
Some people feel relief. The role had become unsustainable. The culture had worn them down. They had been thinking about leaving but had not found the courage or the timing.
Then guilt arrives.
“I felt terrible for feeling relieved.”
“My colleagues were devastated. I was almost grateful.”
Relief does not make someone ungrateful or disloyal. It is simply another honest human response.
Loss of confidence
This is one of the most common and least discussed impacts. I’d say we really get to work on confidence in my coaching practice.
People who have led teams, delivered results and earned senior responsibility can suddenly find themselves doubting basic things: Can I interview well? Is my CV good enough? Will anyone take me seriously? Have I still got it?
Confidence does not disappear because ability disappears. It disappears because the familiar mirrors that reflected capability the role, the team, the results, the title have been removed.
The leader making the decision
We often focus on the person whose role is disestablished. We should. But the leader delivering the news, or making the decision, is also affected.
Over the years, I have coached leaders who describe the experience in ways that surprise people who assume authority makes these conversations easier.
“I did not sleep for a week beforehand.”
“I kept rehearsing the conversation in the car.”
“I felt like I was betraying someone I respected.”
“I knew the business case, but I still felt sick.”
“I had to be calm for everyone else while I was falling apart inside.”
Leaders can feel guilt, anxiety, shame, anger, isolation and exhaustion. They may believe in the commercial rationale but still struggle with the human consequence. They may worry about being seen as cold, cruel or cowardly. They may carry the faces of the people they have had to let go long after the process ends.
Research on managers involved in downsizing finds they can experience confusion, insecurity, stress, cynicism and emotional strain. Many feel unprepared for the emotional weight of delivering decisions that affect people’s lives.
Some leaders protect themselves by becoming distant. Others over-explain. Others try to fix everything. Others carry the pain silently because they believe that is what leadership requires.
None of these responses make them bad leaders. They make them human leaders in a hard situation.
But leaders need support too. Not permission to avoid accountability, and not a script that removes humanity from the conversation. Support to be clear, honest, prepared and present without pretending the decision has no emotional cost.
The days after
The first few days can be strangely busy. Meetings, paperwork, exit conversations, packing up, farewell messages, practical arrangements.
Then the noise stops.
That is often when the real impact begins.
The alarm still goes off, but there is no commute. The laptop is closed, but the mind keeps working. The person may wake at 3am replaying the conversation. They may avoid LinkedIn because everyone else seems to be thriving. They may feel pressure to appear positive before they have even understood what has happened.
One person said, “The hardest part was not the meeting. It was the following Monday.”
Another said, “I kept cleaning the house because I did not know what else to do with myself.”
The loss of routine matters more than people expect and we must be quick to instal healthy habits here. Work gives the day shape. It gives us places to go, people to see, problems to solve and evidence that we are contributing. When that disappears, even capable people can feel unanchored.
What people need first
In my experience, people do not first need a perfect CV, a LinkedIn rewrite or a list of job boards. Those things matter. But they come later.
First, people need space to be honest.
They need to be able to say:
- “I am scared.”
- “I feel embarrassed.”
- “I am angry.”
- “I do not know who I am without this role.”
- “I am worried about money.”
- “I feel relieved and ashamed about feeling relieved.”
- “I do not want to rush into the wrong thing.”
They need someone who will not rush them, judge them, minimise the loss, or turn their experience into a motivational slogan.
They need to be treated as a person, not a case.
Why we partner with professionals
For ten years, Nick Roud Coaching has worked alongside professionals whose roles have been disestablished. Not because redundancy is a career failure it is not, but because the period after redundancy is often one of the most disorienting times in a working life.
The support we bring is simple in intention: help people steady themselves, understand what has happened, reconnect with their strengths and make deliberate decisions about what comes next.
That work is confidential and one-to-one. It is not a group programme where people are asked to perform positivity. It is not a generic process handed to everyone in the same way. It starts with the individual: their history, their skills, their values, their financial reality, their family context, their ambitions and their fears.
What the support looks like
The work usually moves through several stages, though no two people move through them in the same way or at the same pace.
Making space for the truth
Before planning, we listen.
We make room for the shock, anger, grief, fear, relief and uncertainty. Not to dwell indefinitely, but because those feelings are real and they influence decisions. A person who is ashamed may hide. A person who is angry may burn bridges. A person who is fearful may accept work that is wrong for them.
Naming the feeling reduces its grip.
Rebuilding a clear picture
Redundancy can make people forget what they bring.
We look honestly at their experience: the problems they have solved, the people they have led, the judgement they have shown, the results they have created, the relationships they have built, and the qualities others trust in them.
This is not about inflating a CV. It is about restoring an accurate view of capability.
Deciding what matters now
Some people want a similar role in a similar sector. Others want a change they had been postponing for years. Some want more autonomy. Some want less travel. Some want to lead again. Some want to step back from leadership. Some want to retrain, consult, build something of their own, or take a deliberate pause.
There is no correct answer.
There is only the answer that is honest for that person, at that time, with the responsibilities and realities they carry.
Preparing for the next move
Then comes the practical work: positioning, story, CV, LinkedIn, networks, interviews, conversations, decision-making and negotiation.
But it is done from a stronger place. Not from panic. Not from “I will take anything.” From clarity.
Staying steady through the ups and downs
Career transition is rarely linear. There are encouraging conversations followed by silence. Strong interviews followed by rejections. Moments of confidence followed by doubt.
Support matters most in those dips.
Not because a coach can remove the uncertainty, but because a person does not have to interpret every setback as evidence that they are not good enough.
What changes over time
People do not simply “get over” redundancy. They integrate it.
Over time, many people describe a shift. The event remains significant, but it stops defining them.
“I still do not like how it happened. But I am glad I am not there now.”
“I learned that my value was never just the title.”
“I am more deliberate about the work I say yes to.”
“I understand now that I was carrying more than I realised.”
Some find a role that fits better. Some build a portfolio career. Some return to a similar path with clearer boundaries. Some discover strengths they had not named before.
The goal is not to pretend redundancy was a gift. For many people, it is not. The goal is to help them move from being defined by what happened to deciding what they do next.
A note for HR and leaders
If you are responsible for supporting people through redundancy, the most valuable thing you can offer is not only a package. It is dignity, clarity and genuine support.
Tell people the truth as early as you properly can. Do not dress it up in language that protects the organisation but confuses the person. Give people time. Give them a confidential, independent person to talk to. Do not assume that a senior executive needs less support because they are senior. Often, they need more space because they have spent years being the one others rely on.
And support the leaders delivering the news. Prepare them. Check in on them. Let them be human without asking them to carry the whole emotional weight alone.
A final thought
Redundancy is not a verdict on a person’s worth.
It is a business decision that lands in a human life.
The feelings are messy because the loss is real: security, identity, belonging, confidence, routine and imagined futures. The leader making the decision may feel pain too, even when the decision is necessary and well-intentioned.
If you are going through this, you do not need to be positive before you are ready. You do not need to have the next move worked out by Friday. You do not need to pretend it is fine.
You need honesty, support, time and a way forward that is yours.
That is the work we do: not to rush people past their feelings, but to help them move through them with clarity, confidence and a credible next chapter.’
Nick Roud, Auckland, New Zealand
