You Can't Bank Loyalty

Why twenty years of trust still needs you to show up tomorrow.

Jero, our Pajero. Eleven years of loyal service, and still showing up.

The other day, a colleague asked me a question.

"Why are people loyal to their employer?"

We were talking about people who stay with one employer for twenty years or longer, and then one day decide to leave. Twenty years. And then, just like that, they move on.

I don't think he wanted a definitive answer. He was gathering perspectives. But the question stayed with me, maybe because this has been a hard year, professionally and personally. The kind of year that tests your patience, your resilience, and occasionally your ability not to say exactly what you're thinking.

Hard years teach you a lot about people. Including yourself.

Loyalty is earned

I'd like to think I'm loyal by nature. But I won't go to war for someone just because they're my employer, my friend, or someone with an impressive title.

For me, loyalty is like respect. It's earned.

I'll treat people fairly and give them the benefit of the doubt. But standing shoulder to shoulder with someone while everything falls apart takes trust. And trust takes time.

Not necessarily twenty years, though. Sometimes you learn more about someone in twenty difficult days than in twenty comfortable years.

What the trenches show you

When things go well, it's easy to get along. People are pleasant, the coffee tastes better, and even Monday mornings seem vaguely manageable.

When things go wrong, you find out who people really are. Who steps forward? Who takes responsibility? Who tells you the truth when it would be easier to tell you what you want to hear?

And just as importantly: who are you willing to stand beside?

For me, that answer has been the same for more than twenty years. My husband has stood by me, and I've stood by him, through many tough battles, at work and at home. We're still choosing each other. Not because of the history, but because we both keep showing up.

Hard times don't automatically build loyalty. They can just as easily break relationships. What makes the difference is how people treat each other while it's hard. You can come out of a crisis with enormous respect for someone, or knowing you'd rather face the next one alone.

Loyalty doesn't mean agreeing with me

If I'm loyal to someone, I owe them the truth, even when it's uncomfortable. Especially when it's uncomfortable.

If I think my boss is about to make a mistake, I tell her. Not to prove I'm right, but because I care what happens to her and the business. Keeping quiet might make my life easier, but if I see trouble coming and say nothing, have I really protected her?

The other side matters too. Once I’ve made my case, the decision is hers. I might still disagree. I might even be right. But I could be wrong. Standing on the sidelines saying “I told you so” helps nobody, so I’ll back it.

The one exception is integrity. If something is illegal or goes against my principles, I’ll stand my ground. Loyalty should never ask us to give that up.

And it works both ways. I don't want a team that agrees with me because I'm the boss. I want people who respect me enough to say I'm wrong, and trust me enough to know we'll survive the disagreement. That takes courage from them, and humility from me.

Loyalty is a bit like fitness

This is where my thinking took an unexpected turn.

You can't spend twenty years getting fit, stop exercising, and expect to stay in shape because you once ran a marathon. I wish it worked that way. Unfortunately, the body has an irritating habit of reminding you that yesterday's fitness doesn't guarantee today's performance.

Relationships are the same. You can't spend twenty years building trust, stop investing, and expect it to stay exactly as it was.

I've also come to believe that loyalty isn't a spectator sport. It's easy to point out everything that's wrong, especially when circumstances are difficult. It's harder to roll up your sleeves and try to make things better. Not everything can be fixed overnight, and sometimes the situation really is beyond our control. But we still have a choice about how we respond. We can challenge, contribute, try to change things, or decide it's time to move on. What matters is that we take responsibility for our own part in the relationship, too.

And that responsibility isn't one sided. We can't expect people to keep showing up for us if we've stopped showing up for them.

So it takes effort, every day. Sometimes that means big things: standing up for someone, carrying them through a crisis, making the hard call. Mostly it means small things. Keeping your word. Listening. Being fair. Saying thank you. Having the difficult conversation instead of avoiding it. Admitting when you're wrong.

None of it is glamorous. Neither is getting up for a run when your bed is warm and the weather is doing its best to convince you that exercise is a terrible idea. But consistency is the whole point.

Our Pajero, Jero, is proof. Eleven years of loyal service, and she's still showing up. Not because she's new, but because we keep looking after her. Oh, and she's not old. She's experienced...

Like fitness, loyalty needs recovery. You can't push people relentlessly and call it loyalty. Even the strongest people get exhausted, and sometimes they need to make different choices.

Of course, we're human. We won't always get it right. Sometimes we'll disappoint people, and sometimes they'll disappoint us. Perhaps loyalty is also about being willing to acknowledge that, make things right where we can, and keep trying. Missing one run doesn't undo years of fitness. What matters is whether you keep making the effort.

Twenty years doesn't buy another twenty

So, why do people leave after twenty years?

I don't know. Sometimes trust is broken. Sometimes people no longer feel valued. Sometimes their lives change. And sometimes they're just tired.

But leaving doesn't make someone disloyal. Someone can stand beside you through your hardest years and still decide it's time to go. That doesn't erase what came before.

Maybe the real test of loyalty is how we respond when they leave. Can we genuinely wish them well, even when it makes our lives harder?

Because loyalty isn't ownership. We don't get to claim someone's future just because we shared their past.

The questions I'm asking myself

Have I listened enough? Have I been fair? Have I had the difficult conversations when I should have? Have I given people reasons to trust me?

I don't have all the answers. But I know this: you can't bank twenty years of effort and live off the interest.

Loyalty isn't something people owe us for yesterday. It's something we earn again every day.