The One Question That Tells You Who Stays and Who Goes

Issue #27

By Debbie Lawrence

Read Time: 8 minutes

Elizabeth’s new hire had the resume of an ideal candidate. He offered great references and was sharp throughout the interview process, offering all the right answers backed by thoughtful examples.

By month two, none of it was showing up in his work. What annoyed Elizabeth the most was the plethora of excuses Aaron made for practically everything. He resisted feedback with a smile and a nod, then delivered the bare minimum and acted like it was his best work.

By month two, Elizabeth knew, not suspected, but knew she’d made a poor hire, the way you know when milk has turned before you even taste it.

By month two, she also hadn’t acted on it. She told herself stories instead. Maybe he just needs more time to ramp up. Maybe I’m not being clear enough. Maybe I’m being too hard on him.

By month three, she had the clear expectations conversation. Aaron nodded, smiled as always, agreed, and nothing changed. By the end of month four, she built him a detailed performance improvement plan, which Aaron signed. Still nothing changed.

Month five saw Elizabeth investing hours of coaching with him through the same three issues. He said all the right things, but the results he produced only mirrored what he had done in the past.

By month six, Elizabeth was lying awake at 2am dreading the drive to the office. She was quietly redoing Aaron’s work on top of her own, about 15 hours a week of it, and other tasks were delegated to his colleagues so that deadlines were met and client commitments were prioritized. And there were rumblings that her two best people had quietly started job hunting because they were tired of covering for him.

That’s when she called me. The first question I asked was: “When did you know this wasn’t going to work?”

She didn’t hesitate. “Month two.”

“So you’ve spent four months trying to coach someone you already knew wasn’t the right fit.”

She sat with that for a long moment and then quietly said, almost as if to herself, “Why did I wait so long?”

The pattern revealed

What I told Elizabeth, and what I want you to hear as well, is that the decision you’re avoiding isn’t a decision you’re still making. It’s a decision you already made, back in month two, that you’re just not acting on yet.

Every conversation after that point wasn’t coaching. It was a type of performance I call coaching theatre. That’s where you’re having conversations you don’t actually believe will change anything, that on the surface look like you’re making an effort so you can tell yourself later, I tried everything.

Coaching theatre looks like:

• Going through the motions: having the conversation because you feel like you should, not because you believe it’ll change anything.

• Documenting for the file: keeping detailed records of every conversation “just in case,” instead of because you expect the coaching to work.

• Circle conversations: the same conversation every few weeks presented as a new one at the outset but you know you’re both saying the same things yet again.

• Hoping they’ll quit: so you don’t have to be the one who ends it.

• Exhausting yourself: spending hours on someone you’ve already stopped believing in.

• Checking the box: telling yourself “I gave them coaching, I did my part,” so the outcome feels like it wasn’t your call.

If two or three of those sound familiar, you’re not coaching anymore. You’re performing for an audience of one and that one person is yourself.

Look at Elizabeth. She spent four months of her time dealing with someone who could not deliver the results for which he was hired. Four months of her team watching her tolerate work that wasn’t good enough. Four months of paying someone who wasn’t delivering, while quietly doing his job for him.

That’s not what being patient is about. That’s really expensive avoidance that we justify by telling ourselves we’re being understanding and patient.

The trap I know all too well

I know this trap and got stuck in it myself for years before I learned better.

I believe we stay in the cycle because we’re afraid of admitting we were wrong in the first place. Since we were responsible for hiring the person, we struggle with accepting that we made a poor call. And if we exit someone too fast, doesn’t that make us a bad leader, one who couldn’t develop her people?

We stay because they’re likeable, and we don’t want to be the reason someone’s week falls apart. We stay because hiring is a hassle, and the devil we know feels safer than the blank job posting we don’t. We stay because somewhere we absorbed the idea that a good leader can develop ANYONE into anything, given enough patience.

Believe me when I share that each of those reasons feels reasonable in the moment. The hiccup is that none of them are the real question we need to ask ourselves.

The real question is never “should I give this person more time?” It’s “am I still coaching, or am I just delaying a conversation I’ve already had with myself about a decision I’ve already made?”

And the cost of delay is never neutral. Every week you wait costs you sleep, focus, and credibility with the people watching you tolerate it. Your best performers notice before you’re willing to admit it out loud, and some of them quietly start looking elsewhere, just like two of Elizabeth’s top performers.

There’s a real cost to the business too. I’ve watched leaders pay overtime to other team members to cover for one underperformer, on top of everything they’re not getting to themselves because they’re busy doing someone else’s job. That math adds up fast.

The two lists that tell you the truth

I stopped asking my clients “is this person good enough.” That question invites a debate you can argue either side of forever. Instead, I hand them two short lists and ask them to be honest about which one describes what’s happening.

List One: Signs you’re still coaching, not stalling:

• They ask for feedback before you offer it.
• Something changes, even slightly, after a direct conversation.
• You see evidence and believe, honestly, that they can close the gap.
• You leave feedback conversations energized, not drained.
• You’d be genuinely disappointed if they quit tomorrow.

List Two: Signs the decision is already made:

• You dread interactions with them.
• You’ve quietly started working around them instead of with them.
• You’ve had the same conversation about the same issue more than twice in a short period of time.
• You catch yourself making excuses for their performance to other people.
• You’ve been “about to have the conversation” for weeks.
• You’d feel relief, not disappointment, if they resigned tomorrow.

If three or more items on that second list are true, you’re not gathering more information. You already have it and know what needs to happen.

The one question that cuts through it

When a client is stuck, I ask them this: If this person gave notice tomorrow, would you feel relieved or devastated?

Don’t think about it. Just notice your first, honest, gut reaction, before your brain starts building a case for why you should feel differently.

Relieved means you already know. Devastated means they’re likely the right person and something else is broken, like a skill gap that’s closing too slowly, a rough patch you haven’t accounted for, or a conversation that’s been half-said instead of said in full. That’s worth working on. Otherwise, you know an exit conversation is needed.

Elizabeth’s honest answer, once she let herself say it out loud, was relief. She’d known that answer for four months and just hadn’t trusted herself enough to act on it.

What I do differently now

I used to believe that giving someone “one more chance” was the compassionate move. What I’ve learned is that a leader who keeps someone in a role she’s already decided isn’t working out is protecting her own comfort, not theirs.

Now when I catch myself thinking “maybe with more time,” I check two things: the relief question, and whether I’ve started carrying out any of the coaching theatre behaviours above. You know, things like documenting for a file or hoping they’ll quit so I don’t have to decide. If the answer to either one is yes, that’s confirmation of what I already knew.

It’s not comfortable. It never will be. But it’s a lot more honest than four more months of pretending I don’t already know the answer.

Your turn

This week I want to invite you to do a traffic light exercise. List the names of every person on your team and put them in one of two categories:

• A green light if, overall, they’re doing really good work and you are satisfied with their progress. In other words if they quit tomorrow, you would be devastated.
• A yellow light if there are areas that need to be addressed.

Then ask yourself: where there are yellow lights, are these issues genuinely coachable, with a clear path to improvement within a reasonable period of time, or are these fundamental issues that won’t change regardless of the amount of coaching and support that’s provided?

If the answer is that the issues are fundamental and they won’t change, change their colour from yellow to red. That’s a situation where, like Elizabeth, you are acknowledging you have an Aaron on your team.

For now I just want you to sit with this analysis and consider how you want to move forward. There’s no right or wrong way to begin. Just remember that you can’t not see what you now see.

Before you decide anything else, run one more check on those yellow and red lights: are you still coaching them, or are you performing coaching theatre for them? That’s the answer you’re actually looking for.

Comment below and tell me: is there someone on your team right now where, if you’re honest, you already know the answer? What’s stopping you from acting on it?

I read and reply to every response. And I love to hear about your experiences.

P.S. You can also listen to this issue on The Compassionate Leader School podcast episode, which drops the same day on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, and all major platforms. Click here to explore all the episodes.