Why I Think Performance Improvement Plans Don’t Work

I’ve been in business long enough to see almost every management trend come and go, but few have stayed as stubbornly embedded in corporate culture as the Performance Improvement Plan. The PIP is supposed to be a fair chance for someone to step up, refocus, and recover. That’s the theory, anyway. In reality, the moment someone is placed on a PIP, everyone involved knows exactly where this is headed.

It’s something I first noticed early in my career, watching managers quietly dread the PIP process. They didn’t avoid it because it was hard — they avoided it because it felt pointless. By the time a manager sits down to write a PIP, the decision has usually already been made. The employee is still showing up, still doing their job, still trying to meet goals, but they’re already marked in a way that’s hard to come back from. They become, as I call it, “the walking terminated”: technically still part of the team, but no longer on a path that leads anywhere.

Marc Randolph wrote about this dynamic in his piece “The Performance Improvement Plan Is Cruel and Unusual,” and reading it felt like someone had finally said the quiet part out loud. What we frame as an opportunity for growth is often just a formal pause before an inevitable ending.

I’ve seen it play out too many times to count. A manager hesitates to fire someone because it feels harsh, or because HR wants documentation, or because they’re hoping for a miracle. And so the PIP becomes the compromise — a structured, official-looking delay tactic that lets everyone pretend the relationship is still salvageable. The employee, meanwhile, is trapped in a strange limbo where they’re working harder than ever while waiting for a verdict that’s already been written.

What’s even harder is that the process rarely benefits anyone. The team feels the tension immediately. They notice the shift in responsibility, the quiet conversations behind closed doors, the way a coworker starts disappearing into meetings with HR. That uncertainty spreads. Productivity dips. People start to wonder who might be next. Even the manager suffers — carrying the emotional weight of wanting to be kind, but dragging out something that’s already over.

And for the employee? Very few genuinely come back from a PIP. Research backs this up; only a small fraction ever fully recover, and even those who do often get shuffled into different departments, where they arrive with a label no one says aloud but everyone recognizes. No one wants to be the person constantly moved around because nothing seems to stick.

Whenever I see a leader preparing to put someone on a PIP, I always encourage a moment of honest reflection. Why am I keeping this person? What do I believe will realistically change? What is stopping me from making a clear decision today? Sometimes there are legitimate reasons — maybe the expectations were unclear, or the training wasn’t there, or the role changed beneath the employee’s feet. But if the truth is simply that firing someone feels uncomfortable, then the PIP is not a solution. It’s a stall.

The kinder, more respectful approach — for everyone involved — is usually clarity. Not cruelty. Not haste. Just clarity. If someone is not succeeding in a role and there is no genuine path forward, ending the employment relationship openly and compassionately is a far healthier option than dragging them through a forced ritual of “improvement” that no one believes in.

And afterward, the real work begins. Every failed fit is a data point. It’s a chance to revisit the job description, adjust expectations, rethink onboarding, or recognize that your management style might need a different approach for the next hire. We learn more from mismatches than we do from the easy wins.

PIPs aren’t evil. They’re just misaligned with how performance problems really unfold. They promise redemption in a system that rarely grants it. And they give leaders the illusion of fairness while creating a prolonged, stressful experience for everyone involved.

Ending things clearly and compassionately is harder in the moment, but far better for the culture in the long run. Teams deserve stability. Employees deserve honesty. And leaders deserve the peace of knowing they handled a tough situation directly, instead of letting it drag on under the guise of improvement.

If you’re wrestling with how to handle performance issues or want to explore healthier frameworks than the traditional PIP, I’m always open to the conversation.