YOU HELPED BUILD THE COMPANY. THE COMPANY CAN STILL DECIDE IT DOESN'T NEED YOU.

Let's start with something we don't particularly enjoy hearing.

It can be a wonderful organisation.

It can pay you well.

Support your growth.

Treat you respectfully.

Provide opportunities that transform your life.

But it remains a business.

And businesses make decisions based on objectives that may change.

You were employed because your abilities were expected to contribute to something the organisation wanted to achieve.

You solved problems.

Built systems.

Managed products.

Served customers.

Improved operations.

And in exchange, you received compensation.

That's the employment relationship.

Now imagine the company changes its strategy.

The product you spent years developing is discontinued.

A department is reorganised.

A particular skill becomes less central.

Technology changes how work is performed.

Suddenly, your role may no longer fit the new structure.

Those are two entirely different judgements.

But when your salary stops arriving, the distinction can feel almost insulting.

Because bills don't care whether your redundancy was strategic.

Your landlord doesn't accept corporate restructuring as rent.

And your children's school fees aren't interested in the company's new operating model.

I wish this weren't true.

But being exceptionally good at your job doesn't automatically guarantee you'll keep it.

You can be disciplined.

Reliable.

Technically brilliant.

Committed.

The person everyone calls when production breaks.

The employee who sacrifices weekends to keep critical systems running.

And still become affected by a restructuring.

Why?

Because being excellent at your job and having a job the organisation still wants to fund are not the same thing.

That's an uncomfortable economic reality.

We often assume that if we work hard enough, remain loyal enough and become indispensable enough, our employers will naturally protect us.

But companies are not permanent structures.

Their priorities change.

Their markets change.

Their investors change.

Their leadership changes.

Their technologies change.

And sometimes the work they once desperately needed becomes work they believe they can organise differently.

That doesn't make every restructuring fair.

It doesn't excuse poor treatment.

And it certainly doesn't erase employers' responsibilities towards affected employees.

But it means that professional excellence is not an insurance policy against organisational change.

You can do everything right and still lose your position.

This is where I agree with the former Moniepoint employee.

Think about a software engineer who spent years building payment infrastructure.

The company may own the code, subject to the employment agreements and applicable law.

The company may own the product.

The customers may belong to the business.

The intellectual property may be commercially protected.

But what about the engineer's judgement?

The experience of handling a production failure?

The ability to recognise an architectural weakness?

The lessons from building systems under pressure?

The capacity to work across complex teams?

The knowledge of what happens when a supposedly perfect technical design meets the messy reality of actual customers?

Those capabilities don't simply disappear when employment ends.

And that matters.

But I want to go one step further.

Because telling someone that their skills still belong to them is true in an important sense.

It is not the entire truth.

This is the part motivational speakers usually leave out.

Let's say you're an excellent engineer.

You've worked on sophisticated financial infrastructure.

You've solved difficult problems.

You have years of experience at a respected fintech company.

Wonderful.

Now you're looking for another position.

What happens if the market isn't hiring many people with your specific experience?

What if the available positions pay considerably less?

What if companies increasingly want engineers who can work across architecture, operations, security and product delivery?

What if you have financial responsibilities that make waiting six months for the perfect opportunity impossible?

Your competence is still real.

But competence and demand are not identical.

That isn't an insult to the professional.

It's a reality of markets.

And there's another uncomfortable point.

Some of our professional effectiveness comes from the environment in which we work.

The colleagues who complement our weaknesses.

The infrastructure someone else maintains.

The systems already established.

The customers already acquired.

The credibility of a recognised organisation.

You may have been outstanding at Moniepoint.

But that doesn't automatically mean you'll achieve identical results independently, without those resources.

Likewise, the company may struggle without the institutional knowledge of people who leave.

Perhaps maturity means recognising both truths.

You have capabilities worth protecting.

And you must keep developing them so they remain useful beyond one particular environment.

I think this is where many people become dangerously attached to employment.

We begin introducing ourselves through our employers.

"I'm a senior engineer at..."

"I'm a product manager at..."

"I'm the head of..."

And there's nothing wrong with professional identification.

But what happens when the title disappears?

Who are you now?

An ex-senior engineer?

An ex-manager?

A former employee of a prestigious organisation?

Someone waiting for another company to give them an identity?

This is what worries me.

The company name gives us confidence.

The salary validates our competence.

The title provides social status.

The office gives us belonging.

And then, when the employment relationship ends, it feels as though somebody has taken away part of who we are.

But you were a person before the job.

You had abilities before the company discovered you.

And although the organisation may have helped you develop professionally, it doesn't possess exclusive authority to determine your worth.

Your employment status is information about a commercial relationship.

It is not a verdict on your entire existence.

This might offend some people.

But I think we've become too emotionally invested in the concept of loyalty at work.

Employees are told to be loyal.

Believe in the vision.

Go the extra mile.

Treat the company's success as their personal mission.

And I understand why commitment matters.

No serious organisation can function if everyone is completely indifferent to its success.

But loyalty should not require financial irresponsibility or the abandonment of personal boundaries.

The relationship should be mutually respectful.

Not emotionally manipulative.

An employee should work diligently, honour legitimate obligations and contribute meaningfully.

A company should compensate fairly, communicate honestly and treat people with dignity, especially when difficult decisions become necessary.

But we should stop pretending that commitment guarantees permanence.

There is nothing dishonourable about preparing for life beyond your current employer.

And there is nothing heroic about sacrificing your financial stability to prove loyalty to an institution that may eventually need to reorganise your position.

I won't pretend that Moniepoint's restructuring was caused by AI.

The company's stated explanation concerns its organisational structure, product ownership and operational efficiency.

That's important.

But the broader technology industry is changing.

And AI is part of that change.

The skills that made someone highly valuable five years ago may no longer be sufficient on their own.

Routine implementation can become easier.

Some administrative or coordination tasks may require fewer people.

Expectations around productivity, technical breadth and end-to-end responsibility may increase.

But we should be careful not to pretend AI can reliably replace every experienced professional.

It cannot.

There are still complex problems involving judgement, accountability, security, architecture, human relationships and business context.

Nevertheless, the fact that AI cannot replace everything you do doesn't mean your employer cannot reorganise how your work gets done.

And I think that distinction matters more than the endless argument about whether AI will take everybody's job.

The real question is whether you're developing capabilities that remain relevant as the way work is organised changes.

Not because you're guaranteed to survive every restructuring.

But because adaptability gives you more options when your current arrangement changes.

I don't want to write another article telling people to believe in themselves.

Belief is wonderful.

But belief doesn't pay bills.

If your employment is uncertain, you need more than motivational reassurance.

You need a practical strategy.

Start by understanding your actual financial position. Know what you spend monthly, which obligations are unavoidable and how long your available resources could support you if your salary stopped.

If you have the capacity, build emergency savings over time. Not everybody can immediately save six months of expenses, especially in an economy where living costs can consume most of a salary. But reducing avoidable financial vulnerability matters.

Next, start documenting the problems you've solved.

Not just your job titles.

Your actual contributions.

What did you build?

What improved because of your work?

What difficult decisions did you make?

What did you learn when things failed?

Be specific, without disclosing confidential information or appropriating your employer's intellectual property.

Then develop relationships outside your immediate organisation.

And I don't mean collecting thousands of LinkedIn connections you never speak to.

I mean building genuine professional relationships with people who understand your competence and would be comfortable recommending your work.

Finally, keep learning.

But don't collect certifications simply to decorate your CV.

Develop abilities that are demonstrably useful.

And if your role has already been affected, make sure you understand your contract, your benefits, the applicable consultation process and the support available to you.

I don't want this article to become another lecture about employees taking personal responsibility while organisations escape scrutiny.

Because restructuring has a human cost.

Every role on a spreadsheet belongs to a person.

And every affected person may represent an entire network of financial responsibilities.

A parent.

A spouse.

A sibling.

A family member supporting others.

Someone paying a mortgage.

Someone supporting elderly parents.

Someone whose financial plans were built around the reasonable expectation of continuing employment.

Yes, companies must adapt.

Yes, business models change.

Yes, preserving every position indefinitely may be impossible.

But the necessity of a business decision does not automatically justify the way that decision is executed.

How were employees informed?

Were the selection criteria transparent?

Were alternatives genuinely considered?

Were affected workers treated with dignity?

Were contractual obligations honoured?

Was meaningful transition support provided?

Those questions matter.

You can restructure a company without treating people like disposable equipment.

And you can make difficult business decisions without pretending the consequences are merely an unfortunate administrative detail.

The fact that an employee's abilities remain their own should not become an excuse for employers to ignore their responsibilities.

There was another important part of the full message I found while looking into the discussion.

The former colleague encouraged people to share opportunities, make introductions and recommend professionals whose work they could personally vouch for.

That, to me, is where the message becomes particularly meaningful.

Because professional solidarity should not end when someone loses access to the company Slack workspace.

If you know someone is excellent at what they do, recommend them.

If you hear about a relevant opportunity, share it.

If you can introduce someone to a hiring manager, consider doing so.

Not because every former colleague is automatically entitled to your recommendation.

But because a professional relationship should be capable of having value beyond the organisation that originally brought two people together.

And perhaps this is where companies and employees alike can learn something.

You can lose your job.

But relationships built on genuine mutual respect don't have to disappear with the employment contract.

I've been reflecting on the distinction between having a job and having a career.

A job is a position someone currently pays you to occupy.

A career is the larger body of experience, judgement, relationships and capabilities you develop over time.

They are connected.

But they are not the same thing.

You can lose a job without losing everything that made you capable of doing it.

And you can hold an impressive job while neglecting the development that would make you effective elsewhere.

That's the paradox.

I don't believe we should become cynical about employment.

We need organisations.

They create opportunities.

They organise resources.

They provide the environments in which many people do their most meaningful work.

But perhaps we should become more realistic about what those organisations can promise.

They can offer employment.

They cannot guarantee permanence.

They can reward your contribution.

They cannot guarantee that your role will always exist.

And they can help develop your skills.

But they shouldn't become the only place where those skills have meaning.

So here's the uncomfortable question I'm leaving in The Crazy Journal:

Not the prestigious title.

Not the corporate email address.

Not the fancy office.

Not the impressive organisation printed beneath your name on LinkedIn.

You.

Your judgement.

Your competence.

Your relationships.

Your ability to solve problems.

Your record of delivering meaningful results.

And perhaps your ability to adapt when circumstances change.

Because there's something even more dangerous than losing your job.

That doesn't mean you failed.

And it doesn't mean the company was wrong to employ you or necessarily wrong to restructure.

It means the employment relationship was never a substitute for your responsibility to build a life beyond it.

The company may continue.

Your department may disappear.

Your title may change.

Your access card may stop working.

But your life remains yours.

And it deserves more planning, attention and investment than simply hoping your current employer will always need you.

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Inspired by a former Moniepoint employee's message to colleagues affected by organisational changes.

The Crazy Journal — because your professional identity should be bigger than the company currently paying your salary.