In recent years, a popular idea has gained momentum in professional circles: to grow, one must change every three years—whether it’s the company, the role, or even the industry. This notion has been repeated from academic stages to corporate seminars, with consultants and coaches offering carefully designed strategies for navigating such “transitions.” The message is clear: if you stay too long in one place, you risk stagnation.
From the perspective of organizations, however, this trend poses a real challenge. Employees come and go, bringing bursts of fresh energy that soon dissipate, leaving companies once again searching for ways to foster loyalty and retention. The result is a cycle in which everyone seems to be moving, searching, and shifting, yet few genuinely find what they are looking for. Companies struggle to translate this fluidity into continuity, while individuals often discover that movement alone does not necessarily bring fulfillment or mastery.
When viewed from another angle, the logic itself becomes questionable. Imagine an athlete declaring: “For the next three years I’ll play football, but then I must switch to tennis if I want to grow.” Or a musician insisting: “I’ll start with the piano, but later I must move to the violin in order to become a truly accomplished conductor.” Such reasoning sounds absurd—yet it mirrors the way many professionals are encouraged to think about their careers. Growth, in this mindset, is equated with motion, not with mastery.
In reality, the path to vertical growth—growth in depth—is strikingly similar to the pursuit of excellence in sports or the arts. One begins by acquiring the fundamental concepts and abilities. These basics must then be practiced repeatedly, not only to refine skill but also to reveal the limits of one’s abilities and the nature of the environment in which those skills are applied. Over time, the professional learns to identify vulnerabilities, to build the right connections, to develop strategies that mitigate risks, and finally, to put those strategies into practice in ways that create lasting improvements in the community or organization they influence.
This process is not quick. Mastery is cumulative—it grows layer by layer, through both successes and setbacks, in an environment which must be understood in-depth.
And yet, this is where modern organizations often falter. Unless companies ensure that even those employees who spend only a limited time within the organization are aligned with a strategic and purposeful vision (which is more and more difficult considering this general perspective of growth through movement), neither the employee nor the company will see enduring results. More often than not, short stays produce fragmented efforts—initiatives begun but never fully embedded, lessons learned but never institutionalized. This is perhaps why so many strategies we encounter today seem opportunistic: designed to achieve quick and small visible results, but lacking the depth and coherence needed for long-term impact.
None of this is to say that change itself has no value. Change can indeed be a powerful catalyst for growth—when embraced with perspective and awareness. Shifting environments, taking on new challenges, or even transitioning to a different field can broaden horizons and unlock potential that might otherwise remain dormant. But the key is not change for its own sake. The key is intentional change: movement that is aligned with a larger professional vision, guided by a clear sense of direction, and anchored in values that do not shift with every new opportunity.
Equally, it is important to recognize that no one should remain in a toxic workplace, just as no one should tolerate toxicity in any other aspect of life. Leaving such environments is not a matter of change for growth—it is a matter of self-preservation and dignity. But to construct an entire career on the principle that growth can only be achieved by moving from one company or industry to another is misleading. Change may broaden perspectives and provide variety of experience, but depth—the kind of depth that leads to mastery—requires time, stability, and commitment.
Perhaps the greatest danger of the “constant change” philosophy is that it risks confusing movement with progress, and breadth with depth. A career filled with frequent transitions may indeed offer a wide portfolio of experiences, but without the anchoring of long-term dedication, those experiences risk remaining superficial. The true test of professional growth lies, in my view, not in how many roles one has occupied but on how lasting the impact of one’s work has been. True professional growth is not about constant motion, but about balance: knowing when to seek new horizons and when to cultivate expertise where you are.