There’s one waitperson I really like at Big Pink. She’s gone. I’m sad.

Big Pink is a nothing special restaurant near where I’m living on Miami Beach. It’s big, noisy, crowded, and, most importantly, has Lox, Eggs, and Onions at any time of day.

What’s Lox, Eggs, and Onions (LEO)? It’s exactly what it sounds like. It’s lox (smoked salmon) mixed in with scrambled eggs and caramelized onions. Lots of places drop the ball on caramelizing the onions. Having been a fan for 54 years, I’m a LEO aficionado. You don’t need to e-mail me to tell me that it sounds disgusting. My children are handling that for you.

What happened to my waitperson? Where did she go? Why did she leave me? Will life at Big Pink ever be the same? Now that she’s gone, will I think about going elsewhere?

People come and people go. It happens all the time. It happens in every kind of business. It’s normal.

Does Big Pink shut down because of the loss of a waitperson? Does the restaurant reconsider its business model because the team has additions and subtractions? Do its managers say out loud and to themselves, “Never again?” Do they vow to quit hiring people because they’ll all quit eventually?

How to Avoid Departure PTSD

People come and people go. Accept it. Build it in. Expect it. Anticipate it. Have a plan for it. Be proactive about it. Don’t let it disrupt your day, your month, or your year.

We act like having someone leave our firms is earth-shattering.

I understand. I used to feel that way. I’d have that sinking feeling. I’d be filled with upset and agitation. I’d make myself miserable replaying everything in my head. The loss would take over my psyche. It felt like defeat as I was on the verge of victory. It was agonizing.

And then I got over it.

I realized that people come and people go. That’s to be expected. It’s normal, normal, normal. It’s the nature of the game. Sometimes they leave because of us. Sometimes they leave in spite of us. Mostly, they leave because it’s time for them to go.

Many conversations with lawyers are punctuated with “that’s when my associate left,” “things went great until he went off to start his own practice,” or “we split up and went our separate ways at that point.” These events become the markers by which we view our business. We suffer a certain level of post-traumatic stress disorder as a result of the comings and goings.

We shouldn’t.

People come and people go. It’s normal.

“I’ll never hire and train another associate after what happened last time,” she said to me. She’s angry and bitter. She’s upset. Turns out the associate left 14 months ago. It’s like it happened this morning when she tells the story. She’s angry, bitter, upset, disappointed, and hurt, and her heart aches. She’s literally in pain over the departure. It saps her energy today after plenty of time has passed. It’s a wound that won’t heal.

For most of us, the loss isn’t as painful—after some time passes—as it is for her. We get over it, but it’s painful nonetheless. We trained him, we invested in him, and we gave him the gift of our knowledge, wisdom, and experience. How did he pay us back? He left. He screwed us. He took our gift and used it for his own benefit.

Yep, that’s the deal. It’s normal. People come and people go. You’ve got to expect it. It happens in every business. It’s the way the world works.

Turnover is expensive. It’s challenging to build systems around the comings and goings. It complicates the smooth operation of our businesses.

But it’s normal. It’s to be expected. It’s only disruptive when you fail to anticipate it.

Build it in. Expect it. Plan for it. Decide how to manage it before it happens. It’s coming. It’s normal.

I’m thinking about going to Big Pink today for lunch. The Lox, Eggs, and Onions will be the same. Maybe I’ll like the new waitperson better than the last. It’ll be fine. People come and people go.