Dear Y,
You had the opportunity to show leadership. Instead, you showed cowardice. You had the chance to be a decent human being. Instead, you chose business as usual. And now, here we are—me, writing this letter, and you, pretending none of this ever happened.
When I lost Paul, I wasn’t just losing a friend. I lost a part of my world. In the middle of my grief, I told you I couldn’t cover classes—I was barely functioning, let alone fit to lead others in training. A human response would have been, “I understand. Take the time you need.” But that’s not what I got from you, was it? Instead, the first thing on your mind was whether I could still show up for work. Whether I could keep your business running.
Not once did you check in after. Not once did you ask how I was doing. And then, when I returned, you silently erased me from your world—no conversation, no acknowledgment, just a cold and calculated contract termination wrapped in corporate nonsense.
Let’s call it what it is: you didn’t fire me because of performance. You fired me because I was no longer useful to you. Because, for a moment, I had a need greater than your business. And that, Y, is the kind of person you are.
You will never say these words out loud, but I will say them for you: “You were only valuable to me as long as you were useful.” That is what your actions scream. And that is why you will never have my respect again.
You see, leadership isn’t about making sure the numbers work. It isn’t about replacing people the second they no longer fit your plans. Leadership is about standing with people through their struggles, not just benefiting from their strengths. Leadership is about knowing that people aren’t just disposable assets, that community isn’t built on transactions. And, most importantly, leadership is about having the courage to look someone in the eye when you decide to cut them loose.
But courage is something you lack.
I don’t regret working at your gym. I regret expecting anything more than what you gave me—cold efficiency over human decency. You’ve reminded me of an important lesson: weak men hide behind business decisions, while strong leaders stand behind their people.
I will move on from this. I will find people who lead with integrity. I will build and be part of something that values people beyond their utility. And I will leave you to what you’ve chosen to be: just another business owner who sees people as numbers, just another man who lacked the courage to have a real conversation.
This letter isn’t just for you. It’s for every person who’s been discarded, every person who’s been treated as replaceable the moment they needed something in return. If you’re reading this and you recognize yourself in my story—know your worth. Know that you deserved better. Know that you are not just an asset to be used and discarded.
As for you, Y, I’ll leave you with this: I was more than just a coach. You were less than a leader.
Walter.
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