The walking red flag that I used to work with left the job in August last year. After he left, we maintained some sort of relationship, which crashed and burned mid November last year. What's lasted longer than that failed connection is his job vacancy.
Last week, my manager informed me that he was trying to figure out how to fill a couple of job openings. Our team has become a skeleton crew, and now we are spread thinner than Piggly Wiggly peanut butter (credit for this phrase goes to a lovely southern-born former coworker of mine). Among the candidates under consideration is Monsieur Red Flag himself.
When he left in August, he took on a significant pay raise, and a significantly shorter commute. Through the grapevine (my manager), I heard that his company has been bought out, and the division he supports will be moving to Sioux Falls, South Dakota. So Red Flag is inquiring about his old job, but with updated terms and conditions.
A raise, two months a year of time off (to visit Thailand, of course), and the knowledge that, when his mom dies, he will be retiring and moving straight to Thailand.
I wanted so badly to spill the beans, to tell my manager that there is no room at the inn for this angry little man. To show the tirade of text messages that resulted when he got into a huff about checking with me if it was okay to have a phone call. To reveal that this guy had a lot of nerve to even consider coming back after burning the bridge with me in such a spectacular, unrecoverable fashion.
Instead, I kept a poker face (thank you, KN95 mask, for protecting the lower half of my face in more ways than one), and said "My concern is that he would leave us again for something better paying, and closer to home." My manager added that he wanted "fresh blood," and while Red Flag is fresh, he certainly doesn't fit that description.
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