Quitting
.
Not me, but my boss on one of my contracting jobs. He knew exactly how much I was getting paid and it was about three times what he earned. It was really getting on his tits.

Now this was a proper boss. A techie. He was as least as good as I was, if not better - and he knew it. So why was he settling for a third of what I was getting paid? Job security and paid holidays. But he weighed up the pros and cons, talked to me endlessly about the life of a contractor and finally bit the bullet. He quit.

My slave-traders (agency) fixed him up with a long term rolling contract (as rare as hens teeth) with one of the most famous banks in the world. He was on 55 quid an hour. After his first month he rang me up and we went on one of the most decadent piss-ups ever. He spunked about £500 on just the two of us that night. Good times.


Then the next Monday morning arrived and he turned up for work to find the bank locked and was told to go home by a harassed HR droid.

Poor Shaun. His first contract was with Barings Bank at the exact time that Nick Leesons naughties hit the front page....

He got his old job back.

Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Thu 22 May 2008, 13:53, Reply)