Open Doors - The Ampersand September 2025

The Ampersand Unplugged brings you an audio version of our September 2025 edition of The Ampersand, read aloud by the author. In this edition, Adam writes from somewhere above Greenland, returning from a father-son-and-brother golf trip through Scotland, and reflects on two developments that bookended an already eventful year: the departure of a long-time team member, and the arrival of a new one.

From the right way to say goodbye to what a lawyer-turned-cop brings to executive search, he makes the case that how you treat people on the way out—and the way in—is where culture actually lives.

You can find the full written blog on our website here.

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Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:00

Okay, um welcome back. So I hope that uh you're doing well uh wherever this finds you. Uh as I'm recording this, I'm actually still uh a bit jet-legged, having just returned from Scotland with my two boys and my older brother. Uh, we spent about 10 days uh wandering around some of the world's uh great lynx golf courses, um walking uh an unhealthy amount of uh steps every day, uh losing a few golf balls, having a few chuckles, and uh consuming a completely acceptable amount of sticky toffee pudding and single malt scotch whiskey. It was one of those trips uh that sort of reminds you why getting away matters. When you're in the middle of uh of work and life, everything feels urgent, every email deserves an immediate reply, every issue feels uh existential. And then you disappear uh for 10 days and you walk your 30,000 steps a day with people you love, and you realize that most things have a way of sorting themselves out. You come home, uh, you've got some sore feet, you've got some good stories, and if you're lucky, a slightly different perspective. The timing was interesting because uh just before I left, our firm went through two fairly significant transitions. We said goodbye to someone who had been with us for almost a decade, someone I genuinely consider a friend, and we welcomed someone whose background is unlike anyone we've ever hired before. On paper, those are two completely different stories. One is an ending and one's a beginning. But the more I thought about them, uh, somewhere between the Scottish Highlands and 35,000 feet over the Atlantic, the more I realized they're actually the same story. Both ask the same uh question. What does good leadership look like when people come and go? It's easy to talk about culture when everyone stays. It's much harder to demonstrate it when someone decides it's time for a new chapter or when you're inviting someone into the fold. Those moments reveal a lot about who we are, not just uh as a firm, but as leaders. So this month's ampersand isn't really about executive search, it's about trust, it's about uh letting good people leave well. It's about welcoming unexpected talent and ultimately it's about resisting the temptation to make every career decision about us. As always, I I hope it gives you something to think about, whether you're leading a business, leading a team, uh, or simply thinking about the people who've shaped your own career. Thanks as always for reading, or in this case for listening. I really appreciate you spending a little time with me. Enjoy this month's edition of the Ampersand. Umors. Dear friends and colleagues, penning this note, or more accurately, pecking it from somewhere above Greenland on a return voyage from Scotland after a memorable father, son, and brother gulfing walkabout, I find myself in a reflective and appreciative state of mind. After a rather up and down year of proverbial hazards and rough lies, ten days away of literal ones with my two sons and older brother was exactly the antidote. Walking some 30,000 steps a day, sharing laughs, frustrations, and the pure joy of golf, not to mention sticky toffee pudding, whiskey, and brotherhood, all while competing for a few Guinness along the way, reset my perspective in ways I had not anticipated. Just prior to heading away, two developments, the departure of longtime employee and friend Aaron Hukstra, and the arrival of our latest rookie to the precinct, Ryan Kennedy, placed an exclamation point on what was already a fairly hectic year. For a firm that had, for the better part of fifteen years, kept it down the middle of the fairway, these were two additional Scottish bounces. Unlike the existential hazards of the preceding twelve months, though, these were manageable, challenges that tested our instincts, judgment, and ability to respond with grace. At first glance, a departure and an arrival might seem like separate stories. Look closer and you'll see why they're two sides of the same coin. A test of culture, trust, and how we show up when people choose to leave or step in. The lessons they offer aren't theoretical, they're deeply human, and we hope worth a read. I knew the moment Erin invited me for a coffee that cold spring day that something was afoot. She had returned from a few weeks of well-earned vacation to share with me her decision to return to the practice of law. Though disappointed at the thought of losing a long-tenured member of the team, one whom I regard as a friend, whose wedding I attended, and in whose home I have dined, and hers mine, I wasn't surprised. We'd had a few heart-to-hearts leading up to it, and I'd always feared that although the challenges of executive search are abundant, they are more of the EQ variety than they are intellectual mind-benders. And I just knew that big brain of hers likely needed more of the latter than this vocation could offer. Still, I'd be lying if I said that saying goodbye to someone who has been part of the fabric of the firm for nearly a decade didn't sting a little. But I felt something else too, a kind of perverse pride. You see, Erin was leaving us to join someone else through us. We placed her in her new role, and if that's not the gold standard of career transition, I don't know what is. Coincidentally, or perhaps not, we had been retained a few weeks prior to that coffee chat by longtime client, United Farmers of Alberta, UFA, in search of a legal counsel. The farm kid in Aaron, the family still lives on the farm in Saskatchewan, couldn't resist, and neither could our client when they stacked her up against the rest of the candidate pool. Importantly, Aaron went through the same rigorous process as every other contender, no shortcuts, no thumb on the scale. Rusty though she was, after a long while away from legal practice, the client saw in Aaron what we'd figured out long ago. Raw smarts, farm grade work ethic, and insatiable curiosity are a winning combination. It's a funny thing about goodbyes in business. For some reason they're often treated like betrayals. After everything we've done for you, now why? There's an unspoken script that kicks in when someone resigns, even, especially someone we like and admire. The default reaction from many leaders, even the well-intentioned ones, is a cocktail of surprise, defensiveness, and panic. And often a counteroffer. But here's the truth, and it may sting more than the resignation itself. By the time someone walks into your office to tell you they're leaving, they've already had all the truly important conversations. They've spoken to their partner, their parents, their mentors, and their friends. You, the boss, are the last to know, not the first. That's not a slight. It's just the natural order of things, no matter how strong the culture, how open the doors. So when you respond with, what can we do to change your mind? You're not just too late, you actually risk being disrespectful. A form of boss splaining kicks in. One that says, you know better than them what's best for them, and all that needs to happen is for you to show them the error of their ways. Proposing a counter-offer in that scenario is not only dismissive, signaling that all those other people in their life, including the employee herself, know less about what's good for her than you do. Not a great look, and not backed by the data. Multiple HR and executive search studies show that more than 80% of employees who accept a counteroffer leave within 6 to 12 months anyway. That's not just a statistic, it's a reality check. The reasons people leave, growth, misalignment, curiosity, change, don't vanish because you threw money or a new title at them. In fact, you may have just bought yourself an unmotivated employee with one foot already out the door. You don't resolve root causes with a bump in title. You just pay a premium for a temporary pause. Worse, there's the message it sends the rest of your team. Loyalty only pays when you threaten to leave. Counteroffers can poison culture. When Erin told me she was considering a return to her legal roots, the heart wants what it wants, she said. We didn't beg her to stay, we didn't throw a last minute hail Mary. We did something I'm unreasonably proud of. We placed her into her next role. We turned a teammate into an alumna, into a client in one clean motion. That's not sentimentality, it's strategy. Treat departures as dignified transitions, not betrayals. Keep the door unlocked and the coffee warm. Alumni become your best external advocates. They vouch, they call you first, and they share opportunities. If they're treated like extended family rather than exes, these are people who understand your culture, who know your values, and who, if treated well, become your greatest champions on the outside. They send clients, they recommend candidates, offer insights, and sometimes circle back for another tour of duty, but only if the door remains open. Unfortunately, too many companies still subscribe to the Don't Let the Door Hit You school of exits. It's short-sighted and oddly common in professional services. For all the talk of our people are our greatest asset, we sure get possessive when they exercise agency. It's remarkable how a trusted longtime employee can enter the elevator as a star performer and exit at ground level as persona non grata, as if they magically got dumber on the ride down. To be clear, I'm not suggesting we throw a parade for every departing employee. Circumstances matter, but I am suggesting we show up with grace. It's okay to ask, are you sure? It's okay to explore whether a change of pace, not place, might suffice. But once someone tells you they're leaving, respect them enough to believe they've thought it through. Leadership is about lifting people up, even when they're walking away. I'll miss Erin, her judgment, her loyalty, her steady presence, but I'm proud of the role we played in helping her take that next step. It's a reminder that being a good leader isn't about retention at all costs. It's about stewardship. It's about letting people grow, even if it means growing away from you. In a nod to her unswerving professionalism, Erin's final act of the firm was to lead the search for her replacement. During her last few weeks with us, we wore the dual hat of employer and client, and in that latter capacity, were the beneficiaries of the skill our clients experienced on countless occasions. As Erin skillfully presented a long list, then a short one, until finally we landed on our newest hire, Ryan Kennedy. Lawyer turned police officer-turned executive search consultant. If Aaron's exit reminded us what healthy endings look like, Ryan's entry is a masterclass in the value of unexpected beginnings. Executive search often gets dressed up in strategy decks, talent mapping, succession planning, leadership advisory, and sure, all true, but day-to-day it's detective work. You're chasing leads, sourcing helpful friends and contacts, you're sorting tips from noise, separating alibis from explanations, deciding when to push and when to wait out the silence. You're asking the extra question that unlocks the real story. Ryan has done the literal version of that. Courtroom rigor, street level interviews. When I asked him in our one-on-one interview to describe his oral advocacy skills, or put more bluntly, as I'm prone to do, are you a good talker? He proceeded to describe life as a beat cop in one of Calgary's tougher neighborhoods, de-escalating volatile situations, calming heated disputes, and advocating for a positive outcome. Even our toughest clients should be no match for that pedigree. He knows how to read the pause after an answer. He knows when two facts don't coexist comfortably. The best candidates are often hiding in plain sight. They don't always present as the tidy composite. Sometimes they're the person who stayed 14 months for a good reason, or the one who didn't get the promotion but earned the team. You need curiosity to find them, empathy to hear them, and enough professional skepticism to triangulate what is said, unsaid, and implied. Up until now, I've always maintained that seeing as there is no bachelor's in recruitment science, no top school from which to recruit the brightest grads, you couldn't go wrong with backgrounds in team sports, military, or farm kids from Saskatchewan. Time will tell, but I expect I'll soon be adding former PIs to the list. Bringing Ryan on is an affirmation of what works in search. Diverse paths that sharpen shared instincts. Great consultants come from law, business, government operations, and perhaps even policing. The common threads are curiosity, judgment, and an almost old-fashioned respect for preparation. At first glance, these two files, a departure and an arrival, might look like separate stories. But really, the through line is trust. Trust that adults make considered choices about their careers. Trust that your culture is strong enough not to crumble when someone leaves, and curious enough to evolve when someone new arrives. Trust that playing the long game when people on the way out or the way in compounds. Aaron's farewell reminded us that reputation isn't what we write in proposals, but what alumni say when they're gone. Ryan's arrival reminds us that the best hires don't always follow the straightest path, but they know how to listen. Together they teach us the same lesson, trust. Trust that people know when it's time to leave, trust that new voices can strengthen a culture. Doors open, doors close. The hallway between them is where culture lives, the stretch that connects departures and arrivals, the space where values are tested and trust is built. It's the fairway on a Scottish lynx course, narrow at times, flanked by rough and hidden hazards, with the wind that shift and balls that bounce unpredictably. Yet the only way forward is the next shot, played with patience, judgment, and steady focus. Just as on the course you cannot control every gust or uneven lie, but you can choose how to navigate what remains ahead of you. Regards. Adam. Now as a as a interesting postscript, uh, truth be told, we're we're uh uploading prior um editions of the newsletter uh to our podcast as kind of uh filler until Ciara returns from her MAT leave. And uh this was uh actually written last September, nearly a year ago, and I'm only just recording it and uploading it now. Um, and Ryan has since left the building. Um it was uh without any hesitation that we hired him, and it was with full support that we uh supported him in his in his next move. Um I remember the day he came in to resign after about nine months here. He closed the door and he said, I think you're gonna be unhappy with me. And I said, Why would I be unhappy with you? And he told me that he had decided to take a really unique opportunity to own a business and um tap into some entrepreneurial instincts. And um, you know, I I sensed search is funky. It's a if you survive the first 12 to 24 months, you have a career in it. But thus first, that first year or two is is tough. And um I said, well, is it gonna make you happier? Is it gonna make your family happier? Then why would I be unhappy about it? And we saw him on his way. So uh I do really try to walk the walk um and and support people when they when they leave. And in rereading this, um I was reminded how excited we were to bring him on and uh how excited he was to be here. Um, but you know, it maybe it's a case of uh the shoemaker's kid, but you know, it's harder than it looks to get a higher right. Um, and if it's not right for both sides, then the best thing to do is call it out and support people when they pursue their next adventure. So anyway, just thought I'd add that little postscript. Ciao.