Normally, I have my monthly themes and articles planned well in advance. I know what I want to say, the conversations I want to contribute to, and the ideas I hope will challenge people to think differently.
But this week was particularly heavy, and I decided to take a bit of an off-ramp.
Where I would typically speak about leadership, systems, and the work that must happen for Africa and Africans to succeed, a cause very close to my heart, today I find myself needing to talk about something else.
The human behind the title.
We often joke that in procurement and supply chain, problems are the norm. There is always a crisis to manage, a cost to contain, a supplier to negotiate with, or a disruption to navigate.
We have become exceptionally good at solving problems.
But I wonder whether, in becoming so good at managing the challenges, we have forgotten to acknowledge the human cost of constantly having to manage them.
The economy has been tough for a very long time.
People have had to be strong for a very long time.
Families have tightened their belts, businesses have absorbed increasing costs, and employees have continued showing up, giving their best, hoping that eventually things would get better.
And yet, week after week, the pressure seems to intensify.
The recent fuel price increase of approximately 10% is another reminder of just how fragile things have become. Fuel does not exist in isolation. It affects transportation, logistics, manufacturing, food prices, and ultimately the cost of living.
Businesses are struggling to remain competitive under enormous financial pressure. Leaders are being asked to do more with less, protect margins, preserve operations, and make increasingly difficult decisions.
And sometimes, those decisions involve reducing headcount.
Not necessarily because people have underperformed. Not because they have failed to deliver. But because the numbers simply no longer work.
We call it restructuring. Rightsizing. Cost optimisation. Retrenchment.
But behind every one of those words is a human being.
The numbers behind the headlines
The statistics paint an equally painful picture.
According to Statistics South Africa, the official unemployment rate reached 33.6% in the second quarter of 2026. That represents approximately 8.5 million people without work, with another 345,000 people joining the ranks of the unemployed in just three months.
And behind these statistics are more stories still unfolding.
In September 2026, Sibanye-Stillwater announced a proposed restructuring of its Kwezi shaft in Rustenburg, potentially affecting 781 employees and 333 contractors. That's 1,114 people facing uncertainty about their livelihoods.
The company cited declining economically mineable reserves and an increasingly difficult financial outlook. Consultations were initiated, with no final decision on retrenchments announced at that stage.
I understand the commercial realities. Businesses cannot continue operating at a loss indefinitely. Difficult decisions sometimes have to be made.
But I cannot help thinking about those 1,114 people.
How many have children in school? How many are supporting extended families? How many have bonds, car payments and other financial commitments? How many went home that evening wondering what tomorrow would look like?
And how many of their colleagues are quietly wondering whether they might be next?
We often discuss retrenchments in terms of numbers, financial performance and operational sustainability.
But the emotional impact cannot be captured in a spreadsheet.
And it extends far beyond the people whose positions are at risk.
The colleagues left behind
We often hear people say that colleagues are not family, and perhaps there is some truth to that.
But I also think we underestimate the emotional connections that develop when people spend years working alongside one another.
A colleague is rarely just a colleague.
They are the person you share your frustrations with after a difficult meeting. The person who understands the pressure without needing an explanation. The person who makes you laugh on a particularly difficult day.
Some become lifelong friends. Others may annoy you endlessly.
But they become part of the rhythm of your everyday life.
And when they are suddenly no longer there, something changes.
There is an empty chair. A quieter office. A familiar voice missing from a meeting.
The energy that once occupied that space is gone.
And whether we acknowledge it or not, there is grief in that absence.
The leaders who must make these decisions
I know it is easy to look at leadership and assume that decisions are made without emotion.
But I also know that many leaders carry the weight of decisions they wish they never had to make.
Imagine knowing that a decision you are about to communicate could change someone's entire life.
That behind the employee number is a family, a bond, school fees, groceries, and dreams that may suddenly have to be put on hold.
The decision may be financially necessary, but that does not make it emotionally painless.
There are the sleepless nights, the questions, the what-ifs.
Could we have done something differently? Could we have saved another position? Is there another way?
And sometimes, despite everything, the answer is no.
The people who lose their jobs
This is the part I know personally.
I was retrenched in 2020.
I remember the questions that ran through my mind.
Was I not good enough?
Why me?
Could I have worked harder?
Could I have done something differently?
There is something deeply unsettling about losing your livelihood, particularly when you have worked hard, shown up, and given your best.
Retrenchment does not only threaten your financial security. It can shake your confidence, your identity, and your sense of belonging.
And I wish someone could have answered all my questions back then.
Today, I know that losing your job does not automatically mean you were not good enough.
Sometimes, good people lose their jobs.
Hardworking people. Loyal people. Talented people. People who did everything that was asked of them.
Not because they failed, but because the circumstances around them changed.
And if you are going through that right now, I hope you remember that your value as a human being was never determined by your job title, and it does not disappear when that title is taken away.
The people who remain and carry the load
The work does not disappear when the people do.
Someone must absorb the responsibilities. Someone must cover the gaps. Someone must keep the operation running.
And so people double-hat. They take on additional responsibilities, stretch themselves further, and try to maintain the same standards with fewer resources.
But the day still only has 24 hours.
And the human being doing the work still has a life outside the office.
Children who need attention. Families who need care. Personal challenges that do not disappear simply because the business is under pressure.
We speak so often about resilience, agility, efficiency, and productivity.
But resilience cannot mean asking people to carry an ever-increasing load indefinitely without acknowledging what it costs them.
And I think this is the part we sometimes overlook.
The people who remain may be grateful to still have their jobs, while simultaneously feeling exhausted, anxious, overwhelmed, or guilty that their colleagues were not as fortunate.
Gratitude and grief can exist in the same person.
Relief and fear can exist at the same time.
And sometimes, people are simply trying to make it through another working day without falling apart.
Sometimes, things are just hard
I do not have a grand solution to the economic challenges we face.
I understand that businesses must survive. I understand that leaders must make difficult decisions. And I understand that in challenging times, everyone is being asked to make sacrifices.
But I also think we have become so accustomed to telling people to be strong that we sometimes forget how exhausting strength can be.
We celebrate resilience, but rarely acknowledge the toll it takes.
We encourage people to keep going, without always recognising how long they have already been going.
And perhaps that is why I felt the need to write something different this week.
Not to offer solutions.
Not to give another lesson on leadership.
Not to tell anyone to be stronger, work harder, or remain optimistic.
Just to acknowledge the reality that so many people are living through.
Behind every job title, every employee number, every organisational chart and every cost-saving initiative is a human being.
Someone who may be worried about tomorrow. Someone who is exhausted from trying to hold everything together. Someone who has been strong for a very long time.
And today, I simply wanted to acknowledge that.
Because sometimes, things are just hard. And that deserves to be acknowledged too.