3 February 2026
Written by Sajid Fense, Founder
Who owns your contract templates when the person who wrote them leaves?
Almost always nobody, which is why the templates stop changing the day that person leaves and start being copied instead.
The question sounds like an HR problem and it is not. It is a filing problem, and it becomes visible in a specific and predictable way: about three months after somebody leaves, a new person needs a document, cannot find the version they were told to use, finds four candidates instead, and picks one. That choice is now your standard.
Nobody notices, because nothing goes wrong immediately. Contracts are slow-acting. The consequences of picking the wrong template arrive somewhere between eighteen months and never, and by then the decision is untraceable.
What ownership actually means
Ownership of a template is four separate things, and businesses usually have one or two of them without realising the others are missing.
- Custody. Somebody can say where the authoritative copy lives, in one sentence, without qualifying it.
- Change control. Somebody decides whether a proposed change is made, and the change is recorded when it happens.
- Distribution. When somebody needs the document, they get it from the authoritative copy rather than from a colleague's sent mail.
- Review. Somebody is responsible for looking at it on a schedule, rather than when it fails.
A business with custody and nothing else has a folder. A business with custody and distribution has a folder people actually use, which is better and still degrades, because the first person to need a small change makes it locally and now there are two documents.
Why it evaporates on a resignation
The person who wrote your templates was almost never assigned the job. They did it because they needed the document and it did not exist, and they kept doing it because they were the one who knew where things were.
That means the ownership was never written down anywhere. It lived in their memory of which file was current, their habit of being asked, and their willingness to answer. All three leave with them, and none of them appear in a handover document, because a handover document records tasks and this was not a task.
What replaces it is copying. Copying is not a decision anyone makes; it is what happens when somebody needs a document in the next twenty minutes and the person who would have known is gone.
What to establish before it happens
The fix is unglamorous and takes about a day for most businesses.
Name the role, not the person. Write down that the document owner is the operations manager, or the finance lead, or whichever role will still exist in three years. Then write down who currently holds that role. When they leave, the role transfers; the knowledge does not have to.
Put the authoritative location in writing, once. One line, in the place people already look: the onboarding document, the team handbook, the pinned message. Not a folder structure diagram. One line saying where the current version of anything lives.
Make the current version identifiable from inside the document. A version number and a date in the footer means a document that has been emailed, downloaded and renamed can still be identified years later. This is the single cheapest thing on this list and the one most often skipped.
Keep a change log. Three columns: what changed, when, and who approved it. It does not need to be sophisticated. It needs to exist, because the question it answers (why is this clause here) is otherwise unanswerable within about two years.
Set a review trigger. Not a date. A trigger: when we start selling into a new state, when we change how we invoice, when we take on our first employee over a certain threshold. Calendar reviews get postponed. Triggers fire.
Reconstructing it after the fact
If the person has already gone, the recovery process is an inventory rather than an archaeology project. Do not try to work out which version was correct. Work out which versions exist.
Search sent mail rather than the shared drive. The shared drive contains what people saved; sent mail contains what people actually used, which is the set that matters. Collect every distinct version, put them side by side, and mark the differences. In most businesses this produces between three and six documents that are ninety per cent identical.
Then choose one to be current, and this is where the work stops being filing. Deciding which version should govern, and what any of the differences between them do, is a question for your own external adviser, and it is a much cheaper question to ask when you can hand over six marked-up documents and a specific list of differences instead of a folder.
Once you have a current version, the four elements above apply, and the next resignation is a personnel event rather than a document event.
The uncomfortable part
Most businesses discover during this exercise that the version they have been sending for the last two years is not the version anyone would have chosen. That is normal and it is not evidence of carelessness. It is what happens when a document has custody but no change control: it drifts, quietly, in the direction of whoever last needed it in a hurry.