Miserable. Normally, when one of my colleagues announces that they’re leaving for a better job, I feel a tug of disappointment, sometimes even jealousy, but this week it’s a double whammy.
First the disastrous poaching of David, my best-ever lieutenant; then the failure of Kyra to get the job I pushed under her nose and surreptitiously coached her for.
I like to think of myself as a humane boss. And this means I’d always rather encourage the departure of a poor colleague than go down the grim competence-procedures route. But when it comes to Kyra, I’m prepared to make an exception.
She can bring discord where there was harmony, she can bring vexation where there was peace and she can snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.
And worst of all, she blew the interview and now I’m stuck with her.
I could just about cope with this non-departure, but the very same afternoon, David shuffled sheepishly into my office.
I knew what he was going to say before he opened his mouth. “You can’t leave us,” I said. I almost said “me” and nearly revealed a schoolgirl crush I’ve had on David since he bounced Tiggerishly into the interview room a mere three years ago.
And so, farewell to the best services manager in the northern hemisphere. The young, dashing, thoughtful hero who showed his adoring staff how to deal with a blocked toilet by brandishing his bogbrush and sloshing the bleach all over his pinstriped Savile Row.
I toyed with giving him a dubious reference but love conquered subterfuge. Miserable.
First the disastrous poaching of David, my best-ever lieutenant; then the failure of Kyra to get the job I pushed under her nose and surreptitiously coached her for.
I like to think of myself as a humane boss. And this means I’d always rather encourage the departure of a poor colleague than go down the grim competence-procedures route. But when it comes to Kyra, I’m prepared to make an exception.
She can bring discord where there was harmony, she can bring vexation where there was peace and she can snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.
And worst of all, she blew the interview and now I’m stuck with her.
I could just about cope with this non-departure, but the very same afternoon, David shuffled sheepishly into my office.
I knew what he was going to say before he opened his mouth. “You can’t leave us,” I said. I almost said “me” and nearly revealed a schoolgirl crush I’ve had on David since he bounced Tiggerishly into the interview room a mere three years ago.
And so, farewell to the best services manager in the northern hemisphere. The young, dashing, thoughtful hero who showed his adoring staff how to deal with a blocked toilet by brandishing his bogbrush and sloshing the bleach all over his pinstriped Savile Row.
I toyed with giving him a dubious reference but love conquered subterfuge. Miserable.
