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Let's hear your best "I Quit" story....

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Two poor dudes had been through enough, so they ran the numbers, then landed a Challenger (601) at a short strip during a repo leg. They then rented a car, airlined home, and told the owner where he could pick up his airplane.

Had to remove the galley/interior and defuel to get it out.

I am an advocate for trying to leave your employer with as much class as you can, but that one made me laugh TJ!
 
This story comes from a gentleman I flew with many years ago. I cannot vouch for its veracity, but knowing the man as I did I can comfortably say that it is likely true.

Another gentleman, a non-pilot, had come into some "new" money and decided to buy a Merlin III. He engaged my friend "Larry" to fly it for him. Larry had years of aerial application and freight-flying experience, but this was his first "corporate" gig.

He and the owner left Charlotte late one morning and headed for Memphis on their maiden flight. On arrival, the owner told Larry to be ready to head home at 1630 local time. That time came and went with no sign of or word from the owner. Larry had time to reconsider his new position while he waited at the F.B.O. Patience was not one of his virtues.

About 2330 that night, the owner staggered into the F.B.O. along with about 10 equally inebriated friends in order to show off his new airplane. The man didn't have much of an opportunity to impress his friends, however, because Larry picked him up, "installed" him in a seat, and closed the cabin door. If the owner had anything to say at the time, it was lost on his pilot as Larry fired up the Garretts, grabbed a clearance, and blasted off for Charlotte.

As the Merlin leveled at cruise altitude, the owner started hunting around the cabin for his prefered Scotch that he had earlier instructed his pilot to stock aboard the airplane. Instead, he found only a bottle of bourbon and any ice that was once aboard had long since melted. Little did the man realize that the Jim Beam he was holding was not intended for him but was indeed his pilot's private stash.

By this time, the owner had had about enough of his new employee's impudence and decided to put Larry in his place. That turned out to be his third and last mistake of the evening. It seems that Larry had little respect for folks that were not punctual and none at all for a man that couldn't hold his liquor. So somewhere over Central Tennessee, the Merlin started a rapid descent. It was a clear night, and the airport beacon at Rockwood beckoned.

There was not a sole on the darkened ramp at Rockwood, but if there had been, they would have seen an airplane land, roll to the end of the runway, turn around, and stop. They would have watched as, while the engines were still running, the cabin door popped open and a man was forcibly ejected from it. They would have wondered as the door slammed closed and the aiplane took off into night sky, leaving a somewhat disheveled and suddenly lonely man sitting on the runway, listening to the crickets.

When Larry got back to Charlotte that night, he left the Merlin in front of the hangar, jumped in his pick-up truck, and went home. I think he felt that a letter of resignation was unnecessary.
 
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Not really an I quit story...but good

A friend of mine (Tom) was asked to fly a contract trip for a wealthy lawyer in a King Air 350. The flight went well and upon landing the pax told Tom that he would be back around midnight. Well, 12 came and went...then 1, 2, and 3. Tom called the guy several times and finally got a response from his extremely drunk pax saying he wasn't sure when he would get back to the airport. Tom decided to call it a night and flew the airplane home leaving his pax an 8 hour drive home. By the way...he always gets paid up-front.
 
My wife was working for a state agency for her then boyfriends mother. Things had evidently gotten bad enough that her resignation letter was short and sweet, "I quit. Happy Trails".
 
Thanks for taking the time to post this. Great story!


This story comes from a gentleman I flew with many years ago. I cannot vouch for its veracity, but knowing the man as I did I can comfortably say that it is likely true.

Another gentleman, a non-pilot, had come into some "new" money and decided to buy a Merlin III. He engaged my friend "Larry" to fly it for him. Larry had years of aerial application and freight-flying experience, but this was his first "corporate" gig.

He and the owner left Charlotte late one morning and headed for Memphis on their maiden flight. On arrival, the owner told Larry to be ready to head home at 1630 local time. That time came and went with no sign of or word from the owner. Larry had time to reconsider his new position while he waited at the F.B.O. Patience was not one of his virtues.

About 2330 that night, the owner staggered into the F.B.O. along with about 10 equally inebriated friends in order to show off his new airplane. The man didn't have much of an opportunity to impress his friends, however, because Larry picked him up, "installed" him in a seat, and closed the cabin door. If the owner had anything to say at the time, it was lost on his pilot as Larry fired up the Garretts, grabbed a clearance, and blasted off for Charlotte.

As the Merlin leveled at cruise altitude, the owner started hunting around the cabin for his prefered Scotch that he had earlier instructed his pilot to stock aboard the airplane. Instead, he found only a bottle of bourbon and any ice that was once aboard had long since melted. Little did the man realize that the Jim Beam he was holding was not intended for him but was indeed his pilot's private stash.

By this time, the owner had had about enough of his new employee's impudence and decided to put Larry in his place. That turned out to be his third and last mistake of the evening. It seems that Larry had little respect for folks that were not punctual and none at all for a man that couldn't hold his liquor. So somewhere over Central Tennessee, the Merlin started a rapid descent. It was a clear night, and the airport beacon at Rockwood beckoned.

There was not a sole on the darkened ramp at Rockwood, but if there had been, they would have seen an airplane land, roll to the end of the runway, turn around, and stop. They would have watched as, while the engines were still running, the cabin door popped open and a man was forcibly ejected from it. They would have wondered as the door slammed closed and the aiplane took off into night sky, leaving a somewhat disheveled and suddenly lonely man sitting on the runway, listening to the crickets.

When Larry got back to Charlotte that night, he left the Merlin in front of the hangar, jumped in his pick-up truck, and went home. I think he felt that a letter of resignation was unnecessary.
 
My I quit story

Had a cool job.Flew 10 hrs a month hung out with the boss on his yacht In Costa Rica.Then he gets married to a car sales person.She had never seen money and now had 900 million of It.She took over his stocks and aviation department.Things changed, she asked for our Airline miles and hotel points,then she took my health insuarance next I paid my own taxes.One day she called and said she had bought a new I pod and a brand new S class i was to drive to her house and update her I pod and teach her about all the bells and whistles on th new S class.I quit,he called 2 months later askin me to come back there was 5 seconds of silence and the I hung up.
 
Sounds like BS to me.
SP

This story comes from a gentleman I flew with many years ago. I cannot vouch for its veracity, but knowing the man as I did I can comfortably say that it is likely true.

Another gentleman, a non-pilot, had come into some "new" money and decided to buy a Merlin III. He engaged my friend "Larry" to fly it for him. Larry had years of aerial application and freight-flying experience, but this was his first "corporate" gig.

He and the owner left Charlotte late one morning and headed for Memphis on their maiden flight. On arrival, the owner told Larry to be ready to head home at 1630 local time. That time came and went with no sign of or word from the owner. Larry had time to reconsider his new position while he waited at the F.B.O. Patience was not one of his virtues.

About 2330 that night, the owner staggered into the F.B.O. along with about 10 equally inebriated friends in order to show off his new airplane. The man didn't have much of an opportunity to impress his friends, however, because Larry picked him up, "installed" him in a seat, and closed the cabin door. If the owner had anything to say at the time, it was lost on his pilot as Larry fired up the Garretts, grabbed a clearance, and blasted off for Charlotte.

As the Merlin leveled at cruise altitude, the owner started hunting around the cabin for his prefered Scotch that he had earlier instructed his pilot to stock aboard the airplane. Instead, he found only a bottle of bourbon and any ice that was once aboard had long since melted. Little did the man realize that the Jim Beam he was holding was not intended for him but was indeed his pilot's private stash.

By this time, the owner had had about enough of his new employee's impudence and decided to put Larry in his place. That turned out to be his third and last mistake of the evening. It seems that Larry had little respect for folks that were not punctual and none at all for a man that couldn't hold his liquor. So somewhere over Central Tennessee, the Merlin started a rapid descent. It was a clear night, and the airport beacon at Rockwood beckoned.

There was not a sole on the darkened ramp at Rockwood, but if there had been, they would have seen an airplane land, roll to the end of the runway, turn around, and stop. They would have watched as, while the engines were still running, the cabin door popped open and a man was forcibly ejected from it. They would have wondered as the door slammed closed and the aiplane took off into night sky, leaving a somewhat disheveled and suddenly lonely man sitting on the runway, listening to the crickets.

When Larry got back to Charlotte that night, he left the Merlin in front of the hangar, jumped in his pick-up truck, and went home. I think he felt that a letter of resignation was unnecessary.
 

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