“It takes a lot to bring in new people. Training, teaching, and guiding them all require time and emotional investment. But just when they’re ready for bigger roles, they leave.”
I’ve heard this many times throughout my career. Especially lately.
“It’s really bad now.”
I recently spent time with a friend — one of the top designers in his country. “There’s no point investing in Gen-Zs. It takes a minimum of 6 months of guidance before they can produce anything of quality, and they start quitting after just 1 year. I’ve had enough. I don’t want to invest in new talents anymore. I’ll sacrifice the money and downsize my operations to work only with people I can trust.”
True to his word, 2 months later, he let go of his entire team and cancelled his annual internship program.
The people he trusts the most? Former employees from 10 years ago. People who worked with him long enough to learn what it takes to produce good design. People he had invested enormous energy and time in.
Note the word “former” before employees.
A studio founder recently asked on LinkedIn: “How does one retain quality people?”
It’s LinkedIn. Naturally, the top 5 recommendations flood in.
Build a workplace culture. Provide benefits. Practice transparent decision-making. Give regular feedback. Focus on career development.
Sounds like a lot of work? Consider what a founder in a small-to-mid-size studio actually does: leading creative output, maintaining client relationships, managing accounts, dispatching stamped NDAs, and calling a plumber when the kitchen sink is clogged.
I once entertained the idea of engaging an HR consultant. One of them was remarkably candid: “You’ll only find my services necessary when you have 11 people.” I began speaking to employees in medium to large studios about their HR departments. The response was consistent — they track leave, schedule performance reviews, organise workshops and parties. But mostly, they’re busy scheduling interviews to replace whoever just left.
No matter what — people leave. A friend who manages a studio with 90 employees put it plainly: once you have the scale, HR becomes a hiring machine — constantly bringing new people in before someone quits, so there’s always someone ready to step in. Big studios with the money can do that. Small studios can’t. It’s a problem that doesn’t have a solution that fits everyone.
And the new generation of employees has a different relationship with work entirely. For many Gen-Zs, a job is a pragmatic means to financial stability — not a career allegiance. Side hustles, community, personal projects. The job funds the life; the life isn’t the job. Who can really argue with that?
Fact: Quality people will leave, sooner or later.
Everyone running a studio or agency used to work for someone else. The longest I’ve stayed in a job is 1.5 years. Maybe I’m deemed unemployable — I always feel compelled to pursue my own ventures. My former bosses treated me well. None could keep me around for long.
If no one has succeeded in keeping me beyond 1.5 years, why should I expect people to stick with me for more than that?
I’m fine with good people leaving eventually. And those who stay for a long time? Honestly — they’re probably not growing much, don’t have many options, and are staying because of the money. That’s its own kind of quiet quitting.
I’ll do my best to be a good boss. Without sounding like a LinkedIn thought leader, that simply means being open, honest, accessible, and giving constructive feedback. Empowering people to make decisions. Not being an OCD micromanager, but stepping in when the team is struggling. Being myself, and hoping the people I hire will accept me just as I am.
As for investing in retaining talent — I won’t even think about it.
I have limited time. I’ll invest just enough to get work done. Beyond that is driven solely by the individual’s own curiosity and thirst for knowledge. Learning happens while working. Guidance is given for each task. If someone wants more help, they have to ask. Everyone has a budget for courses or conferences — but they have to request it themselves.
Instead, I focus on investing in relationships. Especially with promising young talents. I deliberately blur the lines between being an employer and a friend.
So what if they leave after a year? I may lose an employee, but I gain a dependable collaborator for the future. And more importantly — a friend who’ll support me when needed. Based on a personal, non-transactional relationship.
After all, why do we talk about the future of the creative industry being built on collaboration — if we’re not actively building a collaborative framework for it?
This piece started because a follower DM’d me on Instagram. She was stuck — unhappy at a studio, wanting to leave, but tied to an employment bond she wasn’t sure she could get out of.
It’s more common than people realise, especially in India. And a lot of these bonds are written to intimidate, not to protect anyone fairly.
So here’s what’s worth knowing.
Some companies use employment bond contracts to make employees stay for a fixed period — with a penalty fee if they leave early, meant to cover training and hiring costs. The fee has to be fair and proportionate to actual loss. That word fair is doing a lot of work, and in practice it depends heavily on the situation.
Under the Indian Contract Act 1872, a bond that is one-sided or unreasonable generally won’t hold up. Which means if someone joins a company, realises within a month that the job isn’t what was promised, and is now staring at a three-month salary penalty for leaving — yes, they can challenge it. It might mean a legal fight. But the bond itself isn’t automatically enforceable just because it was signed.
The lesson, if you’re considering signing one: don’t, unless you’re certain it’s the right place and you’re prepared to stay the full term.
And if you’re already in one that feels unfair — it’s worth getting proper advice before assuming you’re trapped.
Sometimes people write to me thinking there’s no way out. Often there is.
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