In my decade with a large global retail chain, I went through roughly 1.3 reorganizations a year. That’s not a typo, it was that consistent. I experienced them as a specialist and later as a manager of managers, so I saw the personal disruption and the strategic reasoning behind them.
Companies reorganize for a reason. Markets shift, costs rise, priorities change, and sometimes the current structure simply can’t deliver what’s needed. From that perspective, it makes sense to reshuffle teams, roles, and reporting lines. A re-org can be a way to focus on what matters, cut duplication, and adapt faster.
But in practice, not all reorganizations are created equal. Some made sense, and I wished they’d stayed in place longer. Others made no sense at all. In rare cases, the changes were even reversed within months.
The trouble was never the logic. It was how often the human cost was left out of the equation.
Let’s take a look at what that cost actually is.
Who Am I Here?
People tie their competence to the invisible rules of their environment. They know who to go to when something breaks. They can tell the difference between a slow response and a quiet “no”. They know which message channel gets an answer and which is a black hole.
A re-org rips that up. Overnight, the map is wrong. The same job title now lives in a different team or structure. Your old allies are busy learning their new bosses’ quirks. You can’t even find the right person to approve a budget request without a scavenger hunt through org charts.
It’s like waking up in your own house after someone rearranged all the furniture overnight.
But the real loss isn’t efficiency. It’s identity. People stop feeling like experts because they have to relearn basics they thought they’d mastered years ago.
The Hidden Tax
On paper, the change is instant. In reality, it takes months to settle. Half your mental bandwidth goes to decoding how the new setup works. Half your meetings are now “intro chats” where you explain the same project to the fifth person in a month.
Momentum dies quietly. The work still gets done, but slower. Decisions that took a week now take three because no one knows who can say “yes.” The org may look better in the deck, but inside, it runs like a factory with conveyor belts running at different speeds.
Leaders rarely account for this tax. It’s not on a budget line. You’ll just be expected to absorb it and smile.
Living in Two Time Zones
If you manage people, you inherit the double-bind. Part of you is in the new world, trying to get your reassembled team moving. The other part is still in the old world, cleaning up projects no one else has context for.
You can’t drop them, since your reputation is still tied to them, but you also can’t give them your full attention.
This is where burnout hides. Not in the big crises, but in the slow drag of being responsible for two realities at once.
My Reframe
I used to treat each re-org like a turning point. Something to fight, resist, or win. Now I treat them like weather patterns. They will come. They will disrupt. They will pass.
That way I don’t tie my identity too tightly to any one structure. The team name, the reporting line, even the boss - temporary. The work and the craft - mine to keep.
You can’t stop the furniture from moving, but you can stop confusing the floor plan with the foundation.
And nine months from now, give or take, we’ll do this dance again.
P.S. Average time between major re-orgs in large companies: 9–12 months. The average time for people to feel competent again? About the same.
See you next week!