Arst Avocats designed this mini-series to give you an inside look at a judicial reorganization procedure.
The accountant asked me to see him alone before speaking to Marc. That was already a sign that this wasn't just ordinary good news. "Orders from the client who was supposed to pick up strongly this quarter are ultimately half what they were expected. And the position we created last year for exports has been eliminated." These two realities, taken together, leave very little room for maneuver in the payroll.
I told Marc that same evening, face to face, not over the phone. He took it badly, right away. "Who are we talking about?" Two positions. A warehouse worker, hired when the company was still doing well, four years earlier. And the export position, held by someone he himself had proudly recruited a year before everything started to fall apart. "I know them. They're not just lines on a spreadsheet."
I'm not leaving him to handle this alone. We're building what needs to be built together, methodically, because nothing here is decided with the stroke of a pen—especially not in insolvency proceedings. First, the administrator must consult with employee representatives: present them with the plan, the reasons behind it, and gather their opinions before making any decision. Then, inform the labor authorities—the DDETS—of the proposed plan. Finally, request authorization from the supervising judge to proceed with the layoffs, demonstrating that they are urgent, unavoidable, and essential for the continuation of the business. This isn't a mere formality. It's a demonstration, supported by documents, that the administrator must present to the supervising judge, using the same figures we just discussed.
"And if he refuses?" Marc asks. "Then we don't fire him, and we look for something else. But in this case, the numbers speak for themselves." It's not a comfort. It's an honest answer.
The meeting with employee representatives takes place on a Tuesday afternoon in the small meeting room usually used for annual performance reviews. The administrator presents the figures calmly, without dramatizing or downplaying them. The representatives ask specific questions—why these two positions, why now, what other options were considered. Marc answers some of them himself, his voice tense but composed. He doesn't dodge anything.
The supervising judge granted authorization fifteen days later, based on the completed file. Two interviews remained, which Marc insisted on conducting himself, despite my reservations about the burden this would place on him. "This is my company. These are my employees. I'm not going to let someone else tell them this for me."
He came out that day more tired than I'd ever seen him, not even on the first night. "This isn't what I created this company to do." I wasn't trying to downplay it. I was simply telling him the truth: two positions preserved now, based on the principles of urgency and necessity, is also what protects everyone else—those who remain, and the company itself, which has a real chance of continuing.
Marc didn't reply at the time. The next day, late in the evening, he sent me a message: "I called both of them. Just to check in. It doesn't change what happened. But I couldn't not do it." This kind of detail isn't found in a textbook on insolvency law. But it's often what distinguishes a manager going through insolvency proceedings from a case that goes through them on its own.
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(Marc is a fictional, composite character.)
SEEN FROM THE INSIDE, a series about bankruptcy proceedings told in a concrete way.
Next episode: defending one's liabilities.
By Morgan Jamet, Partner Attorney — Insolvency Law
Published on August 22, 2026
