Netflix Cut 1,000 Jobs. The Real Story Is How Corporate America Fires People

Netflix eliminated roughly 1,000 jobs last week and replaced chief content officer Bela Bajaria, the executive who spent nearly a decade helping turn the streamer into a global entertainment powerhouse. Netflix said Bajaria was "leaving." She wasn't departing to "spend more time with her family" or to "pursue other interests." Whatever the circumstances of her departure, she was out.

Her replacement, Peter Rice, knows the experience firsthand. In 2022, then-Disney CEO Bob Chapek abruptly fired Rice from his senior Disney position, reportedly catching Rice and much of Hollywood by surprise. Months later, Chapek himself was fired — learning of his dismissal via a phone call at home, hours before he was scheduled to introduce Elton John at a concert at Dodger Stadium that was being live-streamed on Disney+.

In his recent memoir, Behind the Castle Walls, Chapek reflects on the painful end to his decades-long Disney career, including the absence of a chance to say goodbye to the employees he'd worked alongside for years. Why, he wondered, did they have to be so cold?

Why does harsh firing persist?

Hollywood has always been competitive, sometimes Machiavellian. Executives come and go, and nobody — regardless of accomplishments — is entitled to lifetime employment. But when did treating people with dignity on the way out become such an inconvenience?

To be fair, Netflix co-CEO Ted Sarandos publicly acknowledged Bajaria's contributions, and companies have every right to change leadership when performance or strategy demands it. The Fortune commentary drawing on these events puts the distinction plainly: there's a difference between making a tough decision and making an unnecessarily harsh one.

Perhaps corporate boards believe decisive dismissals send a reassuring message to Wall Street — something almost George Steinbrenner-like: we're steely, resolute, not afraid to make tough calls. But Wall Street rewards cost cuts; there's no market bump for being callous.

What do layoffs do to the survivors?

The employees who remain watch someone who dedicated years — sometimes decades — to an organization disappear almost overnight. What are they supposed to conclude? That loyalty matters? Or that they, too, are ultimately completely disposable?

The research is blunt. Columbia Business School found that layoffs perceived as unfair can undermine the commitment of employees who remain. A 2023 study examining Airbnb's layoffs found that employees who perceived the process as unfair reported lower trust in management, reduced job satisfaction and greater cynicism. Respect, dignity and honest communication, the researchers found, shaped how employees judged the process.

Companies spend enormous sums recruiting, training and retaining talent — consultants, culture studies, retreats, team-building exercises, trust falls. They call employees team members, cast members, even family. Yet when it's time to part ways, they sometimes treat those same "greatest assets" no better than obsolete office furniture.

Does respect cost anything?

Firing someone shouldn't become a prolonged ceremony, and companies shouldn't retain employees who no longer contribute. Sometimes speed, confidentiality and decisive action are necessary. But consider what basic consideration actually looks like:

• An honest conversation
• A meaningful acknowledgment of someone's contributions
• A reasonable opportunity to say goodbye
• Assistance finding the next opportunity
• A departure that doesn't leave someone humiliated

These aren't extravagant benefits. They're basic expressions of respect — and they may pay substantial dividends.

Former employees can become future customers, business partners, advocates, or employees again. Remaining employees trust leaders who show compassion in hard decisions. Prospective hires and customers are watching too.

What happens when AI reshapes employment?

The question is getting more urgent. AI threatens to fundamentally reshape employment, and millions of workers are anxious about whether skills they've spent years developing will remain valuable. Some positions will disappear; others will change beyond recognition. Companies will face difficult workforce decisions, often for legitimate economic reasons. But if AI agents and technology make employment increasingly uncertain, shouldn't companies at least get the human part right?

Reputations are built not simply on how organizations celebrate success, but how they handle uncomfortable moments. Employment is, at its heart, a social contract: compensation and opportunity in exchange for time, energy, creativity and often a considerable portion of someone's identity. Its conclusion shouldn't nullify the value and humanity that came before.

Most of us will experience involuntary professional separation at some point. Today's person doing the firing may be tomorrow's person receiving the call. Just ask Bob Chapek. Or Peter Rice.