Perhaps the hardest of decisions a leader makes is knowing when to quit.
I have observed leaders leaving too soon, cutting short their tenure, because of discouragement, criticism, boredom or the desire to build their resume. I have also seen other leaders hold on to their positions long after they had ceased adding any tangible value to the organisation, anchored by hubris, fear, lack of imagination or because they were trapped vocationally.
As a comedian, timing is everything. Jump too soon, and you harm the organisation’s chance for momentum, refuse to go at all, and you and the organisation will risk stagnation and irrelevance.
So, how do you know when your season is over?
Unless the board sacks you, there will be no blinding light, no Damascus road experience, no blinding moment of revelation, but there will be signs if you stop, look, and listen. You will slowly and surely notice the seasons are changing.
Here are some clues it might be time to go.
When the ship is ship shape
It might be a good time to leave when you have the right people in the right places, processes, and profitability.
When the key metrics are looking great and the future is looking fantastic.
Your culture is healthy and humming.
You have developed leadership throughout the organisation, and talent is everywhere.
But do you want to leave when it’s this good?
Possibly.
Perhaps you have a sense of completion, of discharging what was in your imagination, and although it would be nice to stay, you know your work is complete.
Perhaps you recognise yourself as a leader who likes the hard hidden work, turning things around, and cleaning up messes. Now the organisation is in good health, and you recognise you don’t have the passion or desire to maintain and tweak, doing the pretty stuff, so off you go looking for another mess to clean up.
When the ship is sinking
The organisation has sprung leaks, too many to plug, and the boat is sinking fast.
Your culture stinks, your metrics are horrible, and morale is low.
No matter what you do, things have not improved under your watch, and if you are brutally honest, there is no clear evidence that things will improve.
Your shipmates love the ship, they might try and tell you things will improve, that it will get better, but hope is for the religious; you need more than hope, you need evidence, and the evidence is clear, this ship is sinking, and no one and nothing can rescue it.
Start the band playing, now jump in the life raft and save yourself.
When the role is making your life a misery
Organisations like religions love devotees and demand constant sacrifices.
Your health is suffering, your kids don’t see you, and your partner merely tolerates you.
You wake up with a sense of dread each morning, and you come home tapped out and frustrated.
You can’t remember the last time you did something that filled you and refreshed you.
You have put on weight, sleep terrible and have almost no margin in your life.
In the rare moments of self-reflection, you don’t like who you are becoming.
Time to break off those ropes and step down from the sacrificial altar.
As you leave the building, take note of the eager new sacrifice taking your place on the altar.
Thank whatever gods, for your lucky escape.
When there is misalignment
Yes, I know your job is to help the organisation be aligned, but sometimes it’s you. You are the one in the wrong place.
And no matter how much you want the organisation aligned to what is in your heart, it never will be.
This sense is something you feel deep in your core, not something tangible or measurable.
And in this moment of understanding, you best be honest with yourself, pony on up, and find somewhere else where your values, skills, talents, strengths, and passions align.
When you have a growing desire to express the unfulfilled
Here, the keyword is ‘growing’; it isn’t a fleeting thought, a wish. It’s an inner voice that is haunting you or nagging you. It is wanting your attention and, ultimately, your action.
Perhaps it’s a complete sea change, a career change, further study, a new business venture, a year of travel, writing a book, or charity work.
When the love has gone
Work, like a relationship, is a miserable place to be when the love has gone. Sure, you can grit your teeth and stick it out, but is that really what you want?
Dare to stand down if you have tried to rekindle the passion and still do not feel it.
Your work deserves to be loved, and if you don’t love it, it will suffer, and so will you.
Don’t leave
When you have suffered a major disappointment
Give yourself time to process it, lick your wounds and get back into the arena.
When you have failed
Feel it, face it and learn from it. Do not let it define you. Leave with a win, no matter how small, if you can.
When you are tired
General George S. Patton said,
“Fatigue makes cowards of us all.”
Have no doubt; business is war. It’s exhausting, complex, and at times bloody.
Take your allocated leave, extended leave or have a sabbatical. Travel, sleep in, walk the beach, study, connect with the people you love and the things you love to do, refuel, reimagine, and recalibrate. Do whatever you have to do to rest, and then, once rested, make your decision.
When you are bored
It may be an invitation to reimagine rather than leave.
It might be simply you have got too comfortable, and started to stagnate, and it is time to stretch yourself again.
Could it be an invitation for new learning?
What could you do within your current role, adding value to the organisation and a fresh challenge?
Knowing when to leave and how to leave is no easy decision and should be processed soberly and prudently.
It is best to decide without haste and not in isolation.
G.M. Brock
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