The Announcement Wearing a Cardigan

You’ve seen this post. Maybe you’ve written it.

A senior executive is moving on. That morning the company has made its formal announcement, and a few hours later the personal version turns up on LinkedIn. It starts warmly: “Hi all, some personal news.” Then something odd happens. The voice changes. Suddenly the executive “has given notice of retirement from the role”, “effective on or before the date specified”, “subject to the appointment of a successor”. Three paragraphs later it’s back to warm: “Massive thanks to everyone. Cheers.”

It’s the official announcement wearing a cardigan.

You can see how it happens. The formal announcement was drafted carefully, checked by the board and approved by the lawyers. Every word in it has been argued over. So when the executive sits down to write something personal, the safest move is to copy the approved sentences, put a greeting on top and a sign-off underneath, and press post.

The result has two voices, and readers notice even if they can’t say why. The casual frame promises a person. The middle delivers a disclosure statement. It feels like a friend reading you their employment contract.

It can also cause trouble. Disclosure language is written to be precise about what’s legally required, not to reassure. A phrase like “or earlier if required” is routine in a succession announcement. Dropped into a warm farewell with no context, it makes people wonder. Was he pushed? Is something wrong? Usually the answer is no, but the language raised the question, and the post had nothing to answer it with.

And the stitched-together version almost always buries the best part. Somewhere in the formal middle there’s usually a real achievement: a company built, a team grown, a deal that took years. In disclosure language it becomes one item in a list, when it should be the headline.

The fix is easy, and almost nobody does it. Don’t edit the announcement. Start again. Write the personal post as if you were telling a colleague over coffee: what’s happening, what you’re proudest of, who you want to thank by name, what comes next. Then check it against the official version for anything that has to match: dates, roles, anything the market needs to see the same way.

The facts should be identical, and the voice should be completely different.

A goodbye is one of the few times people will read every word you write. Give them one voice, and make it yours.