I told nine people who trusted me with years of their life that next month might be their last with us. And the hardest part wasn’t saying it. It was believing it was the right call.
Some of them have been with me for five years. One, six. I watched them grow up in this company. I watched myself grow up because of THEM.
Two days before I gave notice to anyone, I sat with two of my senior people. Not to tell them anything. To ask them what they thought.
They didn’t hesitate. They told me to reduce the burden. They told me, if there’s no work, give us notice too. Include us.
That’s the part I wasn’t ready for. I was bracing myself to be the villain in this story. Instead, two of my own people helped me carry the decision before I would even made it.
Today I gave notice to nine people. Almost my entire software team. 80%-90% percent.
Conditional notice. One month. If we find work for you, you stay. If we don’t, this is it.
Before anyone left that room, I told them one thing clearly. “Acha acha sab aapka, bura bura sab mera.” Whatever went well these past years, that was you. Whatever went wrong, whatever led us here, that’s on me. Not on your performance. Not on your effort.
I meant every word of it. Their work was never the problem. I was not about to let nine people walk out thinking they had failed, when the truth is I couldn’t protect them from something bigger than all of us.
I have been writing about this for a year now. CS degrees won’t save you. AI is eliminating software development work faster than anyone admits.
Last week a classmate messaged me. Six years at a company that is been around since 2005. All their projects on support now. Salaries getting delayed. Management telling everyone quietly to start looking elsewhere.
He asked if I had any work for him.
I told him the truth. Our salaries have been getting delayed too, for almost a year now. I didn’t sugarcoat it. I said the IT industry is on ventilator right now and nobody, not me, not him, not anyone, knows if it comes back or if this is just how it dies.
That is when it actually hit me. This isn’t my company failing. This isn’t his company failing. This is the model failing. Staff augmentation, the whole “we’ll give you cheap skilled developers” business, it’s disappearing in real time and we are all just watching our own version of the same story.
So where does that leave me.
The institute. Two campuses now. That’s where I’m putting my time, my energy, whatever I have left to give after all this.
It breaks my heart writing this. These weren’t just employees. Some of them I have known longer than I have known some of my own relatives, in the ways that matter.
To the two who told me to include them before I asked, thank you. That’s not something I will forget.
To everyone I let go today, I hope you find something better than what I could give you. I meant every word when I told you to look at other fields. I wasn’t protecting myself saying that. I was scared for you.
To every founder quietly going through the same thing and posting “exciting updates” while your inbox is full of delayed salary apologies: you’re not alone. I’m right here with you.
The IT industry didn’t die loudly. It’s dying in messages like the one my classmate sent me. Quiet ones. One founder to another. One friend to another.
Umar H.
Originally posted on Facebook on 27 August 2026.
