The company was broke and couldn’t hire. The people left were doing twice the work. Nobody was arguing or complaining.

Hastings, Netflix’s co-founder, gave McCord an assignment: “Go figure out why.”

Her answer was “talent density,” the idea that a small group of exceptional colleagues will outwork a bigger team. It became the foundation of Netflix’s culture, and of the “keeper test” its managers still use to decide who stays.

Twenty-five years later, Netflix is cutting again. The company is eliminating roughly 1,000 jobs, about 6% of its workforce, in a restructuring announced Wednesday. The cuts fall largely on its product, technology, legal and human resources teams. McCord ran human resources.

This time, the company has plenty of money and a growth problem. Netflix is still expanding, just not as fast as its leaders or its shareholders want. Its stock is down 22% this year and 42% over the past 12 months. In February, it lost a bidding war for Warner Bros. Discovery. Co-CEOs Ted Sarandos and Greg Peters have not described the cuts as an effort to improve talent density. Still, the layoffs revisit a question embedded in the company’s origin story: When does getting smaller make a business better—and when does it simply make it smaller?

Broke, and having a blast

In 2001, Netflix was a DVD-by-mail startup, three years after its 1998 launch, with about 120 employees. The year before, Blockbuster had turned down Hastings’ $50 million asking price for the company. When the dot-com bubble burst, venture capital funding evaporated, and Netflix laid off a third of its staff.

In No Rules Rules, his 2020 book with INSEAD professor Erin Meyer, Hastings wrote that he and his HR chief agonized over whom to keep, and that he expected morale to collapse. It rose instead. Hastings traces the keeper test to that sorting.

“We were broke, so we couldn’t hire anybody, yet at the same time we were doing twice the work with a third fewer people and it was more fun!” McCord, the company’s former chief talent officer, recalled in a conversation at IESE Business School in June 2025.

“I realized we had what we came to call ‘talent density’—a really tight group of people who were absolutely clear about what they had to do,” she said.

In her account, the lesson had little to do with cost. A focused team, with the right skills and a clear sense of the mission, got more done once the friction that had eaten its time was gone.

The experience changed how Netflix hired once it could afford to again. Rather than assume a team of four engineers should become a team of eight, McCord said, she began asking what kind of talent the company needed. That could mean replacing “wonderful, talented people” whose skills no longer matched the work ahead, with severance instead of a performance-improvement plan that couldn’t close the gap fast enough.

Even in the philosophy’s formative years, a layoff at Netflix could say more about the company’s changing needs than about the person shown the door.

“We realized, Wow, maybe we should do a one-third layoff every year,” Hastings, 65, recently told Semafor, quickly adding that the idea was impractical. Netflix went public the next year, in 2002.

A dream team, not a family

The culture had been moving in that direction before the layoffs. In Netflixed, journalist Gina Keating describes how venture money gave Hastings the power to steer the young company away from co-founder Marc Randolph’s collective of creators and toward an organization run by experienced executives, preferably with engineering and math backgrounds. Randolph left in 2002.

Today Netflix’s culture memo compares the company to a professional sports team. Families offer unconditional love; teams choose the right player for each position, even when that means replacing someone they like. The memo’s “Dream Team” is driven by performance. Seniority, tenure and unconditional loyalty don’t earn a spot.

To protect the talent density McCord identified in 2001, managers apply the keeper test: Would they fight to retain an employee who wanted to leave? Knowing what they know today, would they hire that person again?

“If the answer is no, we believe it’s fairer to everyone to part ways quickly,” the memo says.

McCord found that out herself. In 2012, Hastings let her go. The keeper test she helped build for him had been applied to her.

The bargain runs both ways. Netflix says it pays at the top of the market, shares information widely and gives employees room to use their judgment instead of surrounding them with rules. Its vacation policy is “Take vacation.” Its expense policy is “Act in Netflix’s best interests.” Hiring unusually responsible people is supposed to make layers of control unnecessary. Talent density demands more from workers. Netflix also uses it to justify managing them with fewer rules.

Netflix itself concedes there is almost always a gap between having no rules and truly having no actual rules. “While we don’t always live up to these principles,” the memo says, most people who join are surprised by how great their colleagues are.

The memo also cautions against treating every setback as grounds for dismissal. Managers should evaluate an employee’s full record, it says, and support people through short-term difficulties so they stay willing to experiment.

The last reset

The last time Netflix cut staff in a meaningful way, it was losing customers. In April 2022, the company reported its first subscriber loss in more than a decade, and it lost subscribers again the next quarter. “Our revenue growth has slowed considerably,” Netflix told shareholders, blaming high household penetration, including the many households sharing accounts, and a wave of new streaming rivals. By June, the stock was down nearly 70% for the year.

Netflix cut about 150 jobs in May and roughly 300 more in June, out of about 11,000 employees. The company said the May cuts were “primarily driven by business needs rather than individual performance.”

Then it rebuilt. Netflix launched a cheaper ad-supported tier late that year and moved to charge for shared accounts. By August of this year, its market value topped $315 billion.

Stratechery’s Ben Thompson, writing in January 2023 as Hastings stepped back to executive chairman, argued that the crisis had changed what Netflix needed. Hastings, in his telling, was Spock: a leader built for execution, which is what shipping DVDs and building a streaming service demanded. Netflix’s future would hinge on whether it could make compelling content at scale. “It’s time for a Captain Kirk,” Thompson wrote.

In Thompson’s terms, Wednesday’s cuts fall hardest on the execution side of the house: product and technology, as Wall Street questions whether Captain Kirk is really programming the hits needed to revive growth for the service.

Discipline

Sarandos and Peters framed the cuts as a question of priorities.

“Our mission—to entertain the world—is ambitious, and delivering on it requires us to be disciplined about where we prioritize our people and resources,” they wrote in an employee memo obtained by the Wall Street Journal and CNBC. “Our business is strong and growing, and we remain on track to deliver our full-year forecast.”

The numbers back the second half of that. Netflix had about 16,000 full-time employees at the end of 2025, and revenue reached almost $25 billion in the first half of 2026, up 15% from a year earlier.

The rest of the picture is harder. Sarandos acknowledged the slowdown last month at Bloomberg’s Screentime conference. “Overall, we’re not growing as fast as I want us to, and we’re working on making that move faster,” he said. In February, when Paramount Skydance topped Netflix’s offer for Warner Bros. Discovery, Netflix walked away, saying, “We’ve always been disciplined.”

Generative AI was used for research assistance and/or transcription of this article. The reporter independently reported and verified the factual claims in this article, and a human editor reviewed it before publication. This editor worked at Netflix from June 2024 through July 2025.