Supporting Engineers Through Layoffs

The morning of the layoff, I woke up at 4 AM and threw up.

I knew what was coming. I'd been in the planning meetings for three weeks. I knew which names were on the list — two of them people I'd personally hired, people I'd promised a future at this company. And in six hours, I'd sit across from them and tell them it was over.

There is nothing in my career that has been harder than this. Not the hardest technical problem. Not the most contentious board meeting. Not the most complex organizational redesign. Layoffs are the moment where the weight of leadership becomes almost unbearable, because you're directly participating in something that will upend people's lives.

I'm not going to tell you how to make layoffs easy. They're not. They shouldn't be. What I want to share is what I've learned about leading through them with as much humanity and dignity as possible — for the people leaving, the people staying, and yourself.

Before the Day: Your Responsibilities as a Leader

If you're an engineering leader at a company planning layoffs, you may have limited influence over the decision itself. But you likely have some influence over how it's executed. Use every ounce of that influence.

Fight for the right things

In planning meetings, advocate for:

• Generous severance. Push for more than the minimum. Every additional week of runway you can get for affected employees matters enormously.
• Extended benefits. Health insurance continuation is not a nice-to-have — it's a lifeline for people with families or health conditions.
• Thoughtful selection criteria. If you have input on who's affected, push back on pure recency bias or metrics that don't capture true contribution.
• Career support. Outplacement services, job search workshops, access to recruiters, reference commitments.
• Communication timing. People shouldn't find out through Slack rumors. Push for a humane timeline that allows for private, personal conversations.

I've been in rooms where executives discussed layoffs like spreadsheet exercises. "If we cut 15% of engineering, what's the burn rate impact?" When this happens, it's your job to say: "These are people. They have mortgages and families and dignity. How we do this will define who we are as a company."

Prepare yourself emotionally

You cannot support others through this if you're falling apart. And you might be falling apart — especially if you disagree with the decision, or if people you care about are on the list.

Talk to someone outside the company. A therapist, a mentor, a partner — someone who can hold space for your feelings without needing you to be strong for them. Process your own grief and anger before you need to be present for others.

The Day Itself

For the people being let go

The conversation where you tell someone they're being laid off is one of the most sacred responsibilities of leadership. Here's what I've learned about doing it with dignity:

Be direct and clear. Don't bury the lead in small talk or corporate jargon. Within the first two sentences, they should know what's happening. "I have really difficult news. Your position is being eliminated as part of a company-wide reduction."

Own what you can own. If you had a say, own it honestly. If you didn't, don't pretend you did — but also don't throw leadership under the bus in a way that makes them feel like a casualty of someone else's mistake.

Give them space to react. Some people cry. Some get angry. Some go completely numb. All of these are normal. Don't rush through the logistics. Sit with the silence. Be present with their pain.

Be specific about what comes next. Severance details, benefits timeline, what happens to their work, when their access ends. People in shock need concrete anchors. Write it down for them — they won't remember what you say.

Offer genuine, specific support. Not "let me know if there's anything I can do" — that puts the burden on them. Instead: "I'm going to personally write you a recommendation on LinkedIn this week. I'm going to introduce you to three people in my network who might have opportunities. I'll be a reference for you anywhere you apply."

Do	Don't
Be direct and humane	Use corporate euphemisms ("right-sizing")
Acknowledge the unfairness	Rationalize the decision to them
Offer specific, concrete help	Make vague promises you might not keep
Give them time and space	Rush them out of the building
Follow up after they leave	Disappear from their life

For the people staying

The survivors of a layoff are often overlooked, but they're going through something profound too. They're experiencing:

• Survivor's guilt — "Why them and not me?"
• Broken trust — "If it happened to them, it could happen to me"
• Grief — they just lost colleagues they cared about
• Increased workload anxiety — "Now I have to do their work too"
• Fear — "Is there another round coming?"

Here's what I do with my remaining team on the day of and following a layoff:

Gather them together as soon as possible. Don't let them sit alone with their fears and speculation. Bring the team together (even virtually) and be honest about what you know.

Acknowledge their feelings. "I know this is a terrible day. It's a terrible day for me too. You're probably feeling a mix of relief, guilt, sadness, and anxiety — all of that is normal."

Be honest about what you know and don't know. "Here's what I can tell you: [specifics about the scope, whether it's done, etc.]. Here's what I don't know yet: [timeline uncertainties, organizational changes]. I'll share more as I learn it."

Give them permission to not be okay. "If you need to take the rest of the day, take it. If you need to talk, my door is open. If you need time this week to process, tell me and we'll figure it out."

The Weeks After: Rebuilding

The period after a layoff is one of the most critical leadership challenges you'll face. The team is watching everything you do with heightened sensitivity.

Don't pretend it didn't happen

I've seen leaders try to immediately pivot to "okay, here's our exciting new plan going forward!" That tone-deafness destroys trust. People need to grieve. The team is different now. Acknowledge that.

Address the workload honestly

If you just lost 20% of your team, the remaining people cannot simply absorb that work. Be honest about what needs to stop, what needs to be descoped, and what the new priorities are. Burning out your remaining team is how you turn one layoff into an attrition spiral.

Have individual conversations

In the week following, have a one-on-one with each person on your team. Not about projects or deliverables — about them. "How are you doing? What are you worried about? What do you need from me right now?"

Rebuild psychological safety

Layoffs damage psychological safety profoundly. People become reluctant to take risks, raise concerns, or be vulnerable when they've just seen colleagues disappear. You'll need to actively rebuild this through consistent behavior over months.

Follow through on your commitments to those who left

This matters for your integrity and for your remaining team's trust. If you promised references, write them. If you promised introductions, make them. If you said you'd check in, check in.

Your current team is watching how you treat their former colleagues. It tells them exactly how they'd be treated if it were them.

Taking Care of Yourself

Engineering leaders absorb an enormous amount of emotional weight during layoffs, and most of us have no training or support for it. I want to name a few things:

You're allowed to grieve too. You just lost members of your team. People you invested in, people you cared about. That loss is real.

It's not a betrayal to acknowledge you're struggling. You can be supportive of your team AND need support yourself. Find your own support system — a leadership peer group, a coach, a therapist.

The guilt may linger. There's a specific flavor of guilt that comes from delivering layoff news to people you hired. You promised them something. You're breaking that promise. That guilt is appropriate — it means you take your commitments seriously. But it shouldn't become permanent self-punishment.

Watch for delayed reactions. Some leaders process the stress physically — insomnia, appetite changes, irritability, difficulty concentrating. If you notice these persisting for more than a few weeks, please talk to someone.

What I've Learned About Doing This Right

After experiencing layoffs from multiple positions — the person being let go, the leader delivering the news, the survivor watching colleagues leave — here's what I believe:

1. How you treat people during layoffs defines your character as a leader. Anyone can lead when things are going well. Leadership is revealed in crisis.

2. Speed and clarity are more humane than drawn-out ambiguity. The worst layoff experiences I've witnessed are the ones where rumors circulated for weeks before any action was taken. The anxiety of not knowing is its own form of cruelty.

3. The people who left will remember how you treated them. Years later, they'll either say "that was handled with dignity" or "that was dehumanizing." You're writing that story in real time.

4. Your team will never forget. The trust impact of a layoff lasts far beyond the event itself. You'll be rebuilding for 6-12 months. Accept that timeline.

5. It's okay to question whether the decision was right. Leaders don't have to agree with every company decision. You can execute with integrity while privately believing it could have been handled differently.

A Note About What You Can't Control

Sometimes, despite your best advocacy, the layoff is handled poorly by the company. The severance is too small. The communication is bungled. The timeline is inhumane.

In those moments, do what you can with what you control: your personal support of affected people, your honesty with your remaining team, your willingness to advocate even when it's uncomfortable.

You cannot single-handedly fix a poorly-run layoff. But you can ensure that every person who interacts with you during this time is treated with the respect and compassion they deserve.

That won't make it okay. But it might make it survivable — for them, and for you.