That Time Doing What Was Right Didn’t Feel Right

Firing someone isn’t what TV makes it out to be. There’s no dramatic music, no slow-motion walk to the parking lot with a box of personal items. It’s not satisfying or empowering. It’s uncomfortable. It’s messy. And sometimes, it’s heartbreaking.

The first time I had to fire someone wasn’t because of poor performance. It wasn’t even because of a single mistake. It was because of something much harder to quantify—a belief that had no place in the work we were doing.

He had been with the program the longest.

He was set in his ways and resistant to change.

Still, the clients liked him, and that mattered.

What also mattered was that he could be blatantly insubordinate. He didn’t challenge with intention; he pushed back because he didn’t believe in the work. And while his kindness often softened the edges of his defiance, there were moments when his resistance couldn’t be ignored.

The final straw came in a team meeting. Frustrated, he turned to me, voice sharp with conviction, and said:

"Curtis, these kids are never going to change.

We aren’t doing anything here. We won’t change anything."

A room full of people. Everyone heard it.

He apologized later, but there are some things you can’t take back.

Because at the core of what we did—what we believed—was the simple idea that change was possible. If you don’t believe in that, how can you help someone fight for it?

That moment sealed the decision.

The morning he was fired, he walked in as cheerful as ever, completely unaware of what was coming. I had prepared myself for a difficult conversation, but I hadn’t prepared for this—my supervisor and HR rep, the ones who were supposed to help deliver the news, were stuck in traffic.

It was just me and him.

I had to look a man in the eye who had dedicated years to the job and tell him it was over.

I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I do remember how I felt.

Firing someone who doesn’t see it coming is different from letting go of someone who expects it. There was no anger in his response, no argument—just disbelief—a long silence.

A small nod. A quiet “I get it.”

And then, the hardest part—watching him gather his things, still trying to process what had just happened.

When he walked out, I didn’t feel relieved. I didn’t feel justified. I felt… heavy.

Because sometimes, doing the right thing doesn’t feel right.

But leadership isn’t about avoiding discomfort. It’s about making the decisions no one else wants to make.

And the hardest ones—the ones that stick with you—aren’t about rules or policies. They’re about people.

This moment reminded me of one simple truth: Change is only possible if you believe in it.

If you don’t, you’ll never fight for it.

And if you’re not willing to fight for it, you can’t lead others to it.

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Disclaimer

The views expressed in this blog are solely those of the author and do not represent any other individual, organization, or company. This content is intended for general knowledge and to highlight tools, techniques, and ideas that inspire positive change. Readers are encouraged to explore the topics further and form their own conclusions.