Sharing With My Boss Cost Me My Career
In the good old days, you wanted to go see a client in another country, you just got your PA to book it on the corporate card. You flew business (but often got upgraded), stayed in the best hotels, had full use of the mini-bar, blew out every night at dinner and even sometimes managed to wangle some 'extras' by way of late night entertainment.
Now, of course, we have no PA. She went over a year ago. And overseas trips have to be pre-approved, and fully justified in advance. And you fly economy. If you use a mini-bar in a hotel room, you have to pay for it yourself. There are strict limits on the cost of meals (unless you want to pay the difference), you have to use public transport to get around town, and then, once you return, you are required to file a comprehensive report detailing what you achieved from the meetings.
But my career went off the rails after I was forced to spend three nights with my boss in a hotel room in Paris. We were there visiting clients, but could only get approval for the trip on the basis that the two of us (both males) shared a room. And the trip was no jolly. The pressure was on. With no deal pipeline, our team was in trouble, and many of us were clearly vulnerable for the chop. We hoped to use the visit to Paris to drum up some business, and had a full schedule of meetings ahead of us.
I should perhaps make clear that I had never had a problem with my boss before. He always treated me well and seemed like a fairly decent chap. But I guess that you don't really know someone until you have shacked up with them over three days! The farting and belching I could deal with (just), the fact that he was always on the phone when I was doing the leg-work for our pitches the next day was annoying (but bearable), but the picking at his toe-nails before he turned in I found repulsive. But, even then, I took it in my stride. I contented myself with the knowledge that we only had one more night to spend in that room together. Then I would be free.
But that last night was a disaster. I was alone in the room when the door opened. 'Make yourself scarce, Tony', my boss said as he breezed in with some woman he had clearly only just picked up. 'Be a good boy'. I think it was the 'boy' comment that pushed me over the edge. I packed up my stuff (I was starting to prepare the report we would need to submit), and headed for the door in a temper. Just as I was about to exit, I noticed the fire alarm. Without really thinking too much about it, I pressed the button - and all hell broke loose. First the sprinklers started and quickly soaked us all (I thought those things only triggered in the event that actual smoke was detected). Then, hotel security arrived, followed swiftly by members of the Paris fire department.
My boss was soaked, his 'date' was screaming, the hotel room was trashed, and the hotel manager and the fire department were baying for blood. In the end, the firm got billed for the refurb of the hotel room, and also had to pay a bill submitted by the Paris fire department. My boss was called up by the head of M&A to explain himself, which he clearly did very well - as I was the one fired. The whole thing turned out to be (literally) quite a mess'.