Humane Outplacement for Senior Leaders
Leaving a role with dignity, realism, and a future story worth telling
On the outside, senior departures sound tidy.
“Pursuing other opportunities.”
“Mutual decision.”
“Stepping back to focus on family.”
Behind those phrases usually sits something far more human: shock, humiliation, anger, relief, a wobble in identity, and a very real fear that a long career has just been reduced to a short announcement and a severance line in a spreadsheet.
At that level, a departure is not just a transaction. A departure is reputation, family, health, and decades of effort colliding in a few short weeks.
Humane outplacement is for those moments. It gives an organization a way to say, “We are ending this role, but we are not discarding the person.” It gives a departing executive one steady, independent confidant who will help them absorb the blow, protect what can still be protected, and begin building a credible Act II or Act III without spin.
Why ordinary outplacement is not enough at the top
Traditional outplacement is mostly built for volume: group webinars, generic CV templates, interview workshops, networking scripts. It is better than nothing and often helpful for early and mid-career professionals who need basic structure.
Senior people need something else.
A top executive or partner is not short of templates. They are short of somewhere honest to think. They already know how to network, present and negotiate. The real problems are usually:
the hit to identity after being publicly “let go”
the quiet fear that they now smell of defeat in every conversation
the worry that one bad headline or one internal narrative will overshadow years of real work
the sense that there is less time left to course-correct
They are also more visible. Staff, boards, clients and competitors all watch what happens next. A rushed, formulaic transition often makes everyone feel worse: the firm looks callous, the individual looks stranded, and nobody actually learns anything from the experience.
Humane outplacement treats this as what it is: a high-stakes human turning point, not a line item under “Employee Assistance.”
How this feels from the executive’s side
On Monday, they were in the room signing off strategy.
On Tuesday, they are in a smaller room hearing a rehearsed speech about “fit” and “next chapter.”
They may receive a fair package. They may even have seen it coming. That does not stop the shock. There is grief for status, access, colleagues, routine, and for the version of themselves they thought they were building.
Early on, most people oscillate between extremes:
“I’ll show them. I’ll land something bigger, fast.”
“Maybe I’m finished. Maybe this is who I was and it’s over.”
Both are understandable. Neither is a safe basis for a long-term decision.
In that state, it is very easy to grab the first acceptable offer, or to hide for months and quietly dismantle your own confidence. It is also very easy to say things in anger – to the press, to colleagues, to future employers – that harden into the only story people remember.
Humane outplacement creates a space where none of that needs to be performed. We name the loss, the anger, the embarrassment, the relief, and then slowly move from “What just happened to me?” toward “Who do I want to be next?”
Where I fit
I have been on both sides of this.
After 9/11, the global asset management firm I worked for in London was bought by another. My reviews were positive, my credentials strong, my career on the “right” track. I was still shown the door.
For months afterwards I carried the smell of defeat into every interview. I was qualified, but tired. Defensive. Trying to sound confident when I did not yet feel anything close.
What changed my trajectory was not more technical training. It was a humane outplacement advisor hired by the acquiring firm. He did not spin the situation or flatter me. He broadened my horizons. He helped me see options I had never considered, including global CFA teaching, which went on to define my second act and much of the work I now do.
I remain quietly grateful to the organization that paid for that support. They did not owe me a new life. They did invest in my ability to build one.
Today, I work with departing leaders in the same spirit. I can hold tough conversations. I am willing to sit in the anger, shame and grief without rushing to silver linings. I am also watching, discreetly, for the early signs that someone is sliding into self-destructive thinking, and will encourage them to bring in clinical support if that becomes necessary. I do not replace therapy; I do the practical, career-facing thinking alongside it.
I do not perform the firing conversation. That belongs to the organisation. My work begins once that hard line has been drawn.
What humane outplacement looks like in practice
This is one-to-one, confidential work. No groups. No webinars. No “brand you” worksheets.
A typical engagement has three overlapping phases:
1. Absorbing the blow
We start with the unvarnished version of what happened: the announcement, the meeting, the politics, the official story and the unofficial stories. We talk about reputation: what you fear people are saying, what they probably are saying, and what matters less than it feels.
This is also where we slow down impulsive moves: scorched-earth emails, nuclear LinkedIn posts, precipitous legal threats, or jumping at the first offer just to feel chosen again.
2. Making sense of a long career
Once the initial shock has a little space around it, we look back.
What did you actually enjoy across your career, not just what paid well? Where did you feel most used, most trusted, most alive? Where were you already drifting long before this event? Which parts of the story are still true, and which have expired?
We look at patterns: over-loyalty, conflict avoidance, people-pleasing, rage, perfectionism, control. None of these make you a villain. They do explain some of what happened and protect you from repeating the same dynamics in a new logo.
3. Designing a future that fits who you are now
Only then do we lean into direction.
Sometimes the answer is another senior role in a similar system, approached with clearer boundaries and a different sense of what you owe and do not owe. Sometimes it is portfolio work: boards, advisory roles, teaching, writing, early-stage support. Sometimes it is a deliberate step away from visible positions for a time while health, family or inner life catch up.
Here we get practical:
How you speak about the departure without lying and without self-sabotage
How you show up in interviews when the other party will have Googled you
How to avoid sounding either bitter or desperately grateful
What kinds of firms, missions and governance cultures match who you are now
Where you are willing to compromise, and where you are not
After each conversation, there is usually one or two concrete steps: a person to call, a story to rehearse, a role to rule out, a role to explore, a habit to watch.
I favour incremental movement. Some days the action is small: sending one email, drafting one honest paragraph about what you want, saying “no” to one offer that would drag you backwards. Those steps compound.
Why this matters to organizations
From the firm’s side, it can be tempting to think: “We paid a fair package. We followed process. Our duty is done.”
Technically, that might be accurate. Strategically and ethically, it is thin.
How you treat departing leaders is watched by everyone who stays: senior staff, rising talent, regulators, external partners. A humane outplacement arrangement signals that, even when roles end, people are not disposable. It lowers the temperature around future transitions. It makes it easier for people to tell you the truth earlier, rather than clinging on until the only option is a public break.
It also protects your reputation in quieter ways. A senior person who feels seen and supported is less likely to lash out publicly, sabotage handovers, or carry a corrosive narrative into every future room they enter with your name on their CV.
Humane outplacement is not about buying silence. It is about acknowledging that if you have benefited from someone’s gifts for years, there is a responsibility to help them land as safely as circumstances allow when the story changes.
For executives and for firms
If you are an executive reading this after a departure, you are welcome to treat this page as a mirror and leave it there.
If you are in a firm that wants to raise the bar on how senior exits are handled, humane outplacement can sit quietly alongside your existing HR and legal processes. I am happy to speak confidentially about whether there is a suitable fit between the kinds of leaders you are responsible for and the work I do.
In both cases, the next step is simple: reach out through the Connect page.
Careers rarely move in a straight line. Leaving a role at the top can cut like a knife and still, in time, feel strangely right. Humane outplacement exists to help that shift happen with as much honesty, dignity and clear thinking as possible.
I say this from experience. The role I lost in London hurt more than I could admit at the time, yet that exit turned out to be the best career move ever made on my behalf. Nearly thirty years on, when I see that firm’s logo, I feel genuine gratitude: for the brief season I spent there and for the fact they funded the support that opened a new career I would never have imagined, let alone chosen, on my own.