Back to BlogWhat can we do to keep you?
    Culture05/11/20263 min read

    What can we do to keep you?

    career-growthself-respectaccountability

    It's a familiar story. Someone resigns, and suddenly management is falling over themselves to find out what they need to do to keep them.

    I've been that person. I bet you have too. In fact, I'd like to tell you about one such case that happened to me, because it happens every day.

    I realised I was underpaid but waited until the end of the year to raise it. I wanted to make sure I overachieved on my target before broaching the subject.

    The end of year came, and I was the top sales leader globally. I did my research, gathering salary benchmarks right down to our niche, and took them to my boss.

    "I've done some research on salary standards, and it suggests my compensation is a fair bit below the industry norm. I don't want to put you on the spot, but I'd appreciate it if you could have a look, talk to whoever you need to, and we can pick it up at my next one-to-one. Sound OK?"

    Data-backed. Friendly. No pressure.

    A month later, I raised it at the end of our monthly one-to-one.

    "Did you have a chance to look into it?"

    He was apologetic. It had "completely fallen off my radar".

    "No worries. Have a look before the next one-to-one and we can talk then."

    I loved my job. I wanted to be patient, and I didn't want to hold anyone to ransom.

    The next meeting came around. Still nothing. No feedback from HR. This time, I was firmer.

    "I've been patient, but I want to be clear that this is an important issue to me. My basic salary is about £40,000 behind the industry norm. This is how I provide for my family so I need a formal response to my request."

    He nodded, apologised and promised to chase HR immediately.

    I'd made the urgency clear without adding an "or else".

    Another month passed. This time, I raised it first.

    "HR wants to benchmark all the account executive roles later in the year, but they think your role is banded about right," he said.

    I was annoyed now, but chose my words carefully.

    "We've been talking about this for four months, and I don't feel it's being given any real consideration. If you don't think I'm worth this, please just be straight with me, because that's how I'm reading it now.

    "It's becoming awkward, so I won't raise it again."

    He nodded in acknowledgement.

    Four months later nothing had progressed. He hadn't come back to me as he promised, and I hadn't raised it again. I received an offer from another company and resigned.

    "What do we need to do to keep you?" my manager asked. I apologised and said there was nothing. It wasn't about money.

    Which was true. It wasn't. Not anymore. It had become about how I felt - at this point undervalued. I no longer believed the company took my concerns - or me - seriously. I was frustrated and feeling resentful.

    Then the CEO called.

    "James, you're really important to us. Won't you reconsider? Tell me what you want and I'll make it happen."

    The CEO was lovely. I believed him. But it didn't matter.

    Leadership had months to act. I'd supplied the evidence, explained what it meant to me. But despite sending signal after signal, I'd got the message.

    It wasn't important. Or they wanted to hide behind the company's bureaucracy.

    When high performers resign, companies almost always seem blindsided. But in most cases, the writing is on the wall - it just needs someone to open their eyes and read it.

    Before it's too late.

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