Every organization has one.
A standing committee that meets because it has always met. A service that mattered a great deal ten years ago, still used by a handful of people, and tended by a dedicated colleague who has built real expertise around it.
Everyone suspects its time has passed. And everyone knows what saying so out loud might cost. Sometimes the cost is simply the emotional energy of debating a strong-willed colleague with more authority. Often, it's just not worth it.
So the work continues.
We're remarkably good at starting things. We launch initiatives, add services, say yes to good ideas, respond to new needs as they surface. Organizations have well-worn paths for all of it — proposals, budget requests, approvals, kickoff meetings.
Sometimes it's far more subtle. A customer need gets met, and it feels good to be of service. We feel appreciated. Our skills are recognized — one of the most fundamental rewards there is.
Ending things is a different story. Work tends to end by accident: a budget cut, retirement, or the strategic plan that finally forces the question.
Identifying what to stop is hard. Actually deciding to stop is harder — especially when the work in question is something people across the organization happen to be very good at delivering.
When stopping only happens by accident, work accumulates. So does pent-up resentment for the people delivering it. They cherish being of service, simultaneously frustrated by the personal toll it takes.
The path for breaking this is tied directly to the organizational ethos. The organization has a clear path for starting work and no path at all for ending it.
Continuing is a decision, too.
Prioritization is one of the core capacities that give an organization its ability to deliver on its strategy. Most of us think of it as choosing what matters and focusing there.
That's half of it. The other half is the ability to retire what no longer fits.
The second half is where so much capacity sits, waiting. Every piece of work that stays alive past its ability to reap benefits for the organization AND be sustainable without individual heroics draws on something finite — people's time and attention, budget, energy, the goodwill it takes to keep it running.
And for some reason, stopping is even more difficult than keeping something going that is beyond our capacity, or have even come to resent.
The most difficult part of stopping work is the people attached to it. The colleague who built the program and poured years into it. The leader who launched it, and who may quietly wonder whether ending it will read as a judgment on their call.
When someone proposes stopping something, people can hear a verdict on their contribution.
That's exactly why stopping needs a process. A clear one gives people something solid to stand on while a hard decision gets made.
Here's what that process can look like.
1. Make the cost visible.
Work that's been around a while fades into the background. Its costs get absorbed into how things are done. Before deciding anything, name what the work actually takes: staff hours, who is responsible for it, what it crowds out, what it costs to maintain. Then name what it delivers today, and for whom.
The fastest way to get this picture is to ask the people doing the work. They usually know within minutes.
2. Set the criteria before anyone defends a program.
Once a specific program is on the table, people advocate for it. They should — they care about their work. So agree first on what any piece of work needs to show to keep its place.
A few questions that help:
That last question is the most useful one on the list. It's the same question I ask myself every day as an entrepreneur. It doesn't make the answer easier, but it keeps me clear about where my effort belongs.
Apply the criteria across a whole portfolio of work, so no single program — or person — feels singled out.
3. Get clear on who decides and who gets consulted.
Who has the authority to end this? Who needs to be heard before it ends?
This is Decision Rights at work, and RACI is a practical way to map it. In a stopping decision, the roles look something like this.
Responsible is whoever runs the review and gathers the picture from step one. Accountable is the one person who makes the final call. Consulted includes the people whose work it is, along with those who rely on it most. Informed covers everyone who needs to know the outcome and the timeline, often including partners outside the organization.
The people whose work it is belong in the conversation early, while their input can still shape the ending — the timing, and what's worth preserving. Bringing them in after the decision is made turns consultation into notification.
4. Design the ending.
Learn from the wisdom of William Bridges' Transition Model. It describes three stages: endings, the neutral zone (what many of us call the messy middle), and new beginnings. Bridges saw that every transition starts with an ending. Before people can take hold of something new, they have to let go of what was.
Often the bulk of our effort and communication energy goes to what's new — where we're going. That's important. An ending deserves just as much intention as a launch.
Set a sunset date with enough runway for people to adjust. Decide who hears first and what they hear; staff should know before anyone outside the organization does. Capture what the work taught you. Recognize the people who carried it, publicly and specifically.
Sometimes part of the work should continue in a smaller form or find a home somewhere else. Decide that on purpose, too.
Then comes the messy middle, where we actually spend more time than we expect.
In the messy middle, people want to know what's knowable and what isn't changing. This is an ideal place for temporary structures: intentionally designed cross-functional teams, and groups focused on learning and experimentation that spin up new things with full understanding that their efforts are temporary and designed for learning and iteration.
5. Say where the capacity goes.
This is where the new beginning takes shape.
What most advice skips: freed capacity disappears fast. The hours a retired program used get absorbed within weeks by whatever is loudest that month. The organization stops something, and somehow nothing feels lighter.
So be specific. The six hours a week this took will now go to the priority we named in the spring. The team that ran it finally gets time to rebuild the intake process they've been asking about for two years. Some of it goes back to people as breathing room — and say that out loud, too.
When people see freed capacity land somewhere meaningful, stopping starts to feel like investment.
Each time an organization ends something well, people learn that hard choices can be made with care. They learn that their own work will be treated with respect when its season ends, their contribution is not being invalidated, and that saying "I think it might be time to stop this" counts as a contribution.
Over time, that becomes part of the culture.
It also becomes capacity. An organization that knows how to stop has room to move when conditions change — and conditions keep changing. Organizations, like people, are always becoming. Prepare to become, and start practicing becoming.
So look at your organization right now.
What is doing that it would never choose to start today?
This is your moment, be to be the one who names it and the lay a foundation for a healthy, adaptive future.
Library Management Skills Institute 1: The Manager (September 2026)
Inclusive Manager's Toolkit (October 2026)
I hope to see you at one of our upcoming courses.
-DeEtta