The double-edged sword of loyalty

They say loyalty is a virtue—a quality that turns individuals into dependable, trusted members of a team, a workforce, or a company. But in the construction and demolition game, loyalty has a funny way of being as much a liability as it is an asset. I’ve seen men stick with one company for decades, their lives marked by the rhythm of their projects, each site and every year blending into the next. They work through blazing summers and freezing winters, doing the kind of labour that wears down the body and soul. They give it their all because they believe in loyalty—whether to their boss, their workmates, or simply to the work itself.

But I've also watched those same men get their marching orders the minute a contract didn’t go through, or when the economy took a dip, or simply because the company wanted “a leaner team.” The ones who thought they’d be rewarded for their years of service, for sticking through thick and thin, are left wondering if all that loyalty meant anything at all. Some call it loyalty, others might call it naivety. Either way, loyalty is a double-edged sword.

Let’s talk about the workers. We’ve got guys out there moving from job to job, switching companies like clockwork. Not for ambition, not to climb the ladder, but for an extra couple of quid in their pay packet. It’s not much, but every penny counts. When you’re breaking your back day in and day out, when you’ve got mouths to feed, a little extra makes a difference. So they chase it, because why wouldn’t they?

People outside the industry might say, “They have no loyalty.” But they don’t see the reality these men live in. Loyalty doesn’t pay the bills, and loyalty doesn’t guarantee you’ll have a job next month. When times are hard, when there’s less work to go around, you have to think of yourself and your family. Because let’s be honest - most companies would drop you just as fast if they needed to. So, some workers choose to put themselves first. They look after their own, because they know no one else is going to do it for them.

And with every job switch, they leave a little bit behind. The familiarity of the crew, the rhythm they’ve established with their colleagues, the unspoken understanding that comes with working alongside the same men, facing the same struggles, for months or years on end. But it’s a cost they’re willing to pay, because the world has taught them not to trust in loyalty too much. They’ve learned to be loyal only to themselves.

Now let’s flip the coin. Look at the companies. How easily they lay off staff when things get a bit tight.          The same companies that preach about family values and loyalty are the first to cut ties when the numbers don’t add up. Contracts dry up, bids fall through, and suddenly, that “family” they talked about disappears into thin air. Loyalty? They speak of it in meetings, but it seems to stop where the spreadsheets begin.

One day, a worker is breaking his back, proud to wear the company logo on his hard hat. The next, he’s walking out with a box of his things. It’s not that he wasn’t good at his job. It’s not that he didn’t work hard enough or show enough commitment. It’s just business, they’ll say. Just the way things are. And maybe that’s the hardest part - understanding that loyalty from a company isn’t really loyalty at all. It’s conditional, contingent on profits and performance, not on any sense of duty or responsibility.

Maybe that’s why some of us learn to keep a little part of ourselves back. Why should we give everything when we know, deep down, that we’re only as secure as the next quarterly report? When the bond between employer and worker is so easily severed, maybe it’s only sensible to give what’s required and no more. In the end, loyalty can feel a lot like gambling. You’re putting something valuable on the line - your trust, your time, your health - and hoping it pays off. But there’s no guarantee.

It’s not just about people, either. Look at the way companies treat their relationships with the brands they rely on. A company will stick with a trusted equipment brand for years—decades, even. Machines that have proven themselves, brands that are tried and true, the kind of equipment that becomes part of the team. Operators know those machines like the back of their hands. They know every creak, every quirk. They trust those machines to do the job right, time after time.  And they have a rapport with the local dealer and the service team that helps to keep them moving.

But then, one day, another company comes along, waving a small discount or a promotional offer. And suddenly, that long-standing relationship is gone. That brand loyalty, that sense of partnership? It vanishes in the blink of an eye. All those years of dependability,  reliability and rapport thrown away for a little extra on the bottom line. Sure, it might make sense on paper, but what about the people who have to adapt to the new gear, who have to adjust to a different way of doing things? Does that count for nothing? 

The truth is, the handshake between companies isn’t what it used to be. There’s no loyalty between brands and buyers.   It’s a numbers game. The lowest price wins. And that same ruthless practicality trickles down to every level. It’s a cycle - no loyalty between companies, no loyalty between employers and workers, and in the end, no loyalty between the workers themselves.

Is loyalty dead, or was it ever really there in the first place? Maybe loyalty is a luxury we can no longer afford. In a world where the ground beneath our feet is constantly shifting, maybe loyalty is just a story we tell ourselves to feel a little better about our choices. Or maybe it’s something we cling to out of habit, even as we watch it crumble around us.

In the demolition and construction industry, loyalty isn’t a virtue; it’s a gamble. You put your heart into a job, into a team, into a company. Maybe you get something back for it. Or maybe you end up one of those old-timers looking back on years of work and wondering if it was all worth it.

So here’s the truth as I see it: loyalty cuts both ways. It can hold you up or cut you down. And maybe the real skill in this line of work isn’t loyalty at all.   It’s knowing when to stay and when to walk away.