The two hardest people I've ever had to let go were both good at showing up.

On time, every time. Honest to a fault. They worked hard and never gave me a reason to doubt them.

I let them go anyway. It was one of the most important decisions I made all year.

When we bought the salon, my one promise to myself was to keep every stylist. I knew the reception desk would take longer to get right.

Over our first year, we went through four receptionists. Two of them just weren't working out, one lasted about a week. But the other two were the kind of people you root for. Quiet and kind, the type who showed up early and never needed reminding.

The problem wasn't effort. The problem was the job.

Salon reception looks easy until you watch it fall apart. On a busy Saturday the phone is ringing, someone's at the desk trying to check out, another client is walking in for her appointment, a stylist needs something from you, and the dryer is going off because the towels are ready. You handle all of it at once and make it look effortless, because the moment the front desk looks overwhelmed, the whole salon feels overwhelmed.

That is a real skill, and it's almost impossible to hire for. You need someone warm enough to put a stranger at ease, and tough enough that nobody can run them over. Our two good ones were warm. They weren't built to run that storm, and it wasn't something I could teach.

They were helping us hold the line. They weren't going to help us grow.

So I made the call. I took the one I could meet in person into the back, where we have conversations away from clients, and I told her the truth. The salon was growing into a job that now needed sales experience, someone who could work and close leads, and that was beyond what her role had ever asked of her.

I was careful to be clear that she hadn't failed at anything. The job had changed underneath her. I had a letter of recommendation printed and ready, and I told her I'd be a reference any time she needed one.

She took it better than I had any right to expect. Her only real question was whether it was happening right now. It was.

I wrote both of them strong letters, and I meant every word. I hold no ill will, and I have no doubt they've landed somewhere that fits them better than we did.

Here's the part nobody warns you about: "good enough" is one of the most expensive things you can keep.

Holding onto the person who keeps the line means you never go find the person who could change the game. And you tell yourself you're being kind by hanging on. You're not. You're just delaying it, and paying for the delay in growth you never see.

After I let them go, Chelsea and I worked the desk ourselves. I worked my tech job all week, ran HDE, and covered reception every weekend. She worked it during the week. I went about three months without a single day off, and we barely saw each other.

It was brutal. It was also the best thing that could have happened, because doing the job ourselves is how we finally understood it. We learned exactly what the role demanded and exactly what kind of person it took.

So when a stylist mentioned a friend who used to work reception, I called her half out of desperation. Five minutes into that call, I knew. She had the thing you can't teach.

On her second day, I watched it happen in real time. A client was checking out at the desk, another was walking in for her appointment, and the phone was ringing, all at once. In the middle of it, she calmly collected a Google review like it was nothing. I stood there and thought, oh. This is what it's supposed to look like.

Everyone in that salon loves her now. The stylists, the clients, all of us. The role never needed more patience from me. It needed the right person in the seat.

I've had to let a lot of people go, first in tech and now here. It never gets comfortable, and I don't think it should. But a few things make it cleaner for everyone involved.

Label it before you deliver it. I open with some version of, "We need to talk, and I want you to know up front it's not good news." It doesn't make the news softer, but it kills the worst part, the not knowing. Nobody has to sit there reading your face for clues.

Be definitive. Say exactly what is happening, why, and what it means for them. Vagueness feels kinder in the moment and is crueler in the end. People deserve to walk out knowing precisely where they stand.

Then calibrate to your own nature. If you're naturally blunt, you have to over-correct toward warmth here. If you're like me, empathetic and quick to avoid conflict, you have to sharpen up and get more direct, because your instinct to cushion everything just muddies the message.

Because what they need from you is not comfort. It's clarity. You were never going to be the person who makes them feel better. You're the person ending the job, so do that part cleanly and let them keep their dignity.

Learning to sit in that seat, and to keep getting better at it, is one of the least glamorous and most necessary parts of owning something.

So here's an honest gut check before you ever look at a business to buy: can you sit across from a good person and end their job, with clarity, to their face? If that thought makes you want to look away, pay attention to that.

Hit reply and tell me: have you ever had to let go of someone who didn't really deserve it? How did you handle it? I read every response.

Michael

I’m building out a suite of products and services to help people like you consider buying or starting then scaling a local small business. If you’re interested in learning more, let me know.