Dear Leadership, What If We Actually Cared Enough to Fire People?

Let’s rip the Band-Aid off, shall we?

We need to talk about something that makes most nonprofit leaders squirm in their ergonomic chairs: firing people. Not budget cuts. Not restructuring. Not “eliminating roles due to strategic realignment.” I mean looking a colleague in the eye and saying, “You are not delivering on the promise we made to our donors, and that matters more than your comfort or tenure here.”

If that makes your stomach churn, good! It should. That means you care. But now I’m going to ask you to care even more—by stepping up and doing the hard, necessary thing when someone’s performance or behavior is compromising your mission, your culture, or your donor experience.

You see, in donor relations, we talk a lot about being donor-centric. We throw around phrases like “attitude of gratitude” and “architects of the donor experience.” But here’s the truth: you cannot build an extraordinary donor experience with subpar players. You can’t inspire generosity while also enabling mediocrity. You can’t retain donors if you’re protecting staff who diminish the very relationships we work so hard to cultivate.

And yet, too often, we do just that. We tolerate the colleague who talks down to donors. We accommodate the gift officer who never follows up. We excuse the team member who hasn’t grown, improved, or contributed anything meaningful in years. We hope they’ll change. We delay the inevitable. We tell ourselves it would be cruel to let them go.

But what if the real cruelty is in keeping them?

What if caring means protecting the integrity of your team, the trust of your donors, and the health of your organization? True care—true leadership—is about making the tough call in service of something greater than one person’s job security.

Now, I’m not talking about firing someone because they made a mistake or need more training. I’m talking about the people who consistently underperform, resist feedback, or violate your values. The ones who pull down morale, break systems, and make your best people think about leaving. The ones who are actively eroding your mission’s momentum—and who have been doing so unchecked because no one wants to rock the boat.

Well, I’m telling you it’s time to rock the damn boat.

If we say we care about donors, we must care enough to hold one another accountable for how we treat them.

If we say we’re building a culture of excellence, we must confront the moments when excellence is missing.

And if we believe people matter—and they do—then we must be honest about who advances the mission. Not everyone gets to stay simply because they were here first or have learned how to hide in plain sight.

I know this isn’t easy. I know there are politics, personalities, and HR protocols involved. But hiding behind bureaucracy or hoping someone “retires out” isn’t leadership. It’s avoidance. And our sector cannot afford avoidance any longer.

We are in a crisis of trust. Donor retention is plummeting. Expectations are rising. Attention spans are shrinking. The only way to rise above the noise is to be so good—so excellent, so consistent, so values-driven—that our donors can't help but notice. That level of quality doesn’t happen by accident. It happens by design. And sometimes, design requires subtraction.

Caring isn’t just warm fuzzies and potluck lunches. Caring is brave. Caring means you look out for the team as a whole, not just the easiest path forward. It means you create space for people who are hungry to contribute, who are willing to grow, and who see the sacredness in what we do. And yes, sometimes it means helping someone exit gracefully so that your organization can thrive.

So, the next time you’re tempted to say, “We’re a family here,” I want you to pause. Families can be dysfunctional. Families can enable bad behavior. And truthfully, you’re not a family. You’re a mission-driven, impact-focused, donor-centric team. And that means everyone on the team should be someone you’re proud to share a donor meeting with. If they’re not? Care enough to do something about it.

Your donors deserve better. Your team deserves better. And let’s be honest—you do too.

Written by Lynne Wester