A new overlord had taken a dislike to him over the last six months. The years of careful work avoidance and delegation had left him powerless against a new female boss who didn’t have any truck with the old boys’ network.
A very generous compromise settlement was tucked away in his yellowing pocket and he has been working done his notice, waiting until he was allowed to go on Gardening Leave.
Last Friday was the big day. His final day. A small presentation was led by his boss.
She gave a deeply moving and heartfelt speech about how much of a difference his input had made to the company. I am sure I was the only one who noticed she stopped to answer a text on her mobile whilst she spoke.
He was given a card and £20.00 in vouchers. And that was that. Or so I thought.
The following Friday we went out to a club for a workmates’ birthday. It was fancy dress. The boss had been standing there for a good hour before we realised who it was. He was dressed like a 1960s hippie.
A full on, ‘Neil from the Young Ones’ wig, purple ‘John Lennon’ glasses and a huge, hairy Kaftan.
He then proceeded to be normal. I wouldn’t say he was a riot but he told us about his previous jobs, about several amusing experiences and about his future prospects. He got fairly drunk and then left. That was that. Gone.
Leaving behind just a whiff of stale cigarette smoke, a lot of unhappy memories and an incongruously successful finale.
For more from The Insider, click HERE.
