Performance improvement plans, or PIPs, tend to be seen as a death knell for the employees who get them. Rather than a sincere approach to helping team members succeed, they can often signal a slow farewell from the company—a three-month countdown to getting let go. As Owen Manley, a former sales account executive put on a PIP more than a decade ago, puts it, “PIPs go one of two ways. Three months into them, I’d guess [employees] either leave by their own choice, or they’re let go.”
Manley, now 54 and a recruiter at a tech advisory company in Toronto, had been with his company for more than four years when he was put on a PIP in the wake of his father’s death. For Manley, the plan felt like a betrayal. He’d been a hard worker, slacking briefly due to a family tragedy, but loyal to his company. He felt his company should have returned the favor. When it didn’t, he found himself with “a bubbling cauldron of emotions,” he says, from anger to despair to defiance.
“It’s funny how vivid this experience remains,” he says. “I can still visualize the sitting down, the conversations.” The only time in his 25-year career that Manley’s been on a PIP, it left an indelible mark. However, with pressing responsibilities like a mortgage and family to support, he figured out how to “beat” his PIP, if not how to forgive the higher-ups who put him on it. Manley shared with Fast Company how he did this and his feelings on PIPs today.
His story has been edited for length and clarity.
“My initial gut feeling was anger”
I’d been with the company almost four years, and I got a promotion to sales manager. Within a week, my dad was diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer. He was given anywhere from three to nine months to live. I went to my boss at the time and said, “In good conscience, I don’t know if I’m going to stay in Canada. I might move home [to Ireland] with my wife and kids. I’m just not sure. In the spirit of transparency, I don’t know if I can take on the responsibility of leading a team.”
My boss said, “We get it. Do what you need to do.” We went to visit my dad, spent several weeks there, and came back to Canada. I continued with sales, and just before Christmas, went home to see my dad again. He passed on while I was there. I came back early in the new year and was offered a promotion. [My father’s death] was still fresh, so I said I’d stay on as an individual contributor . . . and see how I get on.
I struggled that first quarter. I just wasn’t performing. In April, my boss brought me into the office, sat me down, and said, “Listen, we’re not happy with your performance. We’re going to put you on a PIP.”
At the end of the day, you have to own your performance. I could see, theoretically, where they were coming from. I hadn’t sold anything. But the way it was delivered was not very compassionate. I actually swore—“You’re effing joking me? I was offered a promotion three months ago, and now I’m on a PIP?” I said, “I’m not going to sign it.” I went to HR and eventually signed. It gave me [several months] to hit certain performance parameters—either 70% or 80% of my quota, which was quite reasonable. I had a history of hitting it. I just hadn’t mourned my dad, or I was still mourning.
Were the PIP’s goals attainable? I think so. Did I have an F.U. attitude? Absolutely. Did I keep it to myself? Yes.
“Challenge accepted”
My initial gut feeling was anger and that the PIP wasn’t deserved. That anger gave way to an element of hopelessness. That turned into galvanization. I’m going to find a way out of this mire and prove that it was a temporary hiccup. But the PIP made me realize my loyalty to the company was not a two-way street. I doubled down and made a commitment—if I ever leave here, it will be on my terms. There’s no way they’re walking me out the door.
Once you’re on a PIP, there’s this perception that you’re a dead person walking. Everyone knows you’re on a PIP, especially in a sales environment. Our performance is splashed up daily on these big electronic displays. If it’s not on the big screen, people just go into Salesforce or NetSuite, or whatever your CRM is, and know if you’re going on a PIP. It’s hard. You have one foot out the door, and not by choice. You’re self-conscious and trying to battle those optics.
It’s tough mentally, because my internal perception is I can’t sell. The perception of leaders is He’s not contributing. Some colleagues are very supportive, and ultra-competitive ones might be delighted. Most would rally around me. They’d ask if I was going to look for a new gig or knuckle down. My attitude was knuckling down—challenge accepted.
With managers, even my non-direct managers, I noticed a distancing. Whether that was conscious or unconscious, I couldn’t tell you. But even the VPs, whom I’d normally have daily or weekly interactions with on the floor, would never come by my cubicle.
“The company doesn’t always have your back”
I continued doing what I had been doing anyway. My work ethic was solid. My approach to bringing clients over the line didn’t change. I had a family, a mortgage, car payments. The fear of letting the family down, of the stigma attached to being let go, then having to talk through that in a potential job interview down the line, helped drive me forward through the PIP.
I didn’t look for new jobs. I was determined to prove [my bosses] wrong. Actively interviewing felt like acknowledging defeat. And I always had an issue with looking for a job on the company’s time. Looking for a job is a full-time endeavor. I had a job, and they were paying me, regardless of how I felt about the PIP.
In the end, I blew out my quarter, ending up [above 100%] of my three-month quota. I met all the PIP parameters and wrapped up on a Friday. It was all high fives and bell ringing. I went home, had a good weekend with my wife and kids. Then on Sunday, I wrote up my resignation and sent it off.
I normally wouldn’t do that, but my boss and a few other folks showed their true colors. Even though I got caught up on my entire year, not even just the three months [outlined in the PIP], I didn’t want to stick around. Ultimately, it ties back to loyalty. I have a fierce sense of loyalty for everything in my life—family, friends, work. It was about people having your back when you need it. That’s why I sent off my resignation letter.
The reaction to my resignation email was surprise. Some people come back from performance plans and redeem themselves, but I don’t know how much sincerity was behind my boss saying, “What can we do to change your mind?” I was like, “I’ll come in and do my transitioning, but I don’t want to talk. I’m good. There’s zero possibility of me entertaining staying [here].”
“It’s a job”
I got a job within a week. Somebody got wind that I was leaving, and I interviewed. It was very serendipitous.
My takeaway from that experience was: It’s a job. The company was pre-IPO when I joined and publicly traded when I left. They still had to deliver results, and there’s this cutthroat mentality of identifying the underperformers and rolling them over every quarter. Find the bottom 10% and get them on a PIP. Manage them in or manage them out. Typically, I think the attitude is to manage them out. The company doesn’t always have your back. You come in, do the best you can, put your head down, and try to deliver. Still, I always feel like I’m one quarter or bad month away from being put on a PIP. Maybe I’ve got a bit of post-traumatic PIP disorder.
I think PIPs are an awful reflection on the company, not just because I lived through it. After that, I’d have colleagues who were put on PIPs. It’s such a demoralizing effect, not just on the individual, but on their immediate colleagues. It’s a lazy way of leading people. Everyone’s going to struggle at some point in their career. Companies need to figure out a way to manage them through that dip in performance. If the employee’s struggling, the company needs to take ownership of that and ask what’s going on: How can we empower you? Where are we lacking? What’s going on in your life?