How you react when someone you rely on leaves your business for somewhere new reveals your true character as a leader.

I once went to hand my notice in. I was leaving my big corporate job to set up my own consultancy business. There was one catch. I had a 12-month notice period in my contract.

Ridiculous, I know.

I spoke to my CEO, reassured her that I was not about to jump ship to a competitor (and indeed would sign a legal document to that effect if that helped), and proposed a three month notice period. Following that, no pay no play.

After all, I reasoned with her, what was the point of having a Board Director hanging around, eager to leave, for a whole year?

At least I thought I was reasoning with her. She went ballistic, accused me of disloyalty, SACKED me and put me on a year’s gardening leave. *

What makes a leader respond like that? I heard two first-hand stories last week that made me think more deeply about the ways a senior executive should respond when they get the unwelcome news that a much-loved lieutenant wants to fly the nest.

The first was a woman in her thirties. She leads marketing for a medium sized organisation. Her description of the workplace sounds more like a cult than a sane workplace. She handed her notice in to the founder who responded with cold fury: he issued an edict that she was to be barred from any company meetings for her notice period. She’s still there for a couple of weeks and it’s a lonely place. None of her colleagues will speak to her for fear of being stigmatised.

She told me it’s not a surprise. She’s seen it happen a few times before. Someone goes to leave and is ostracised from the group, who close ranks. To me it’s a strange way to ensure loyalty.

The other story came from SirRichard Harpin. He and I have talked at functions and conferences before but this is the first time we’ve met and had a proper, serious conversation. I hope it’s one of many because he is excellent company and tells a fascinating story of his rise to success with HomeServe.

His book, How To Make A Billion In Nine Steps, is a cracking read. He told me he wrote it after exiting his business for £4BN. What, he wondered, could he have done to make it worth £8BN and out in 15 years rather than the 30 he took? The resulting advice is very compelling indeed.

One of the things he told me about was his early decision to start up an alumni network for ex-employees. It was something he personally nurtured and funded. Every few months he would invite those who had left his company to come together for drinks and a chat. It proved popular – who doesn’t like a free pint? – and grew quickly.

“It meant I was always in touch with talented people,” he told me. It allowed him to not just keep tabs on them, but to also pick up valuable competitive insight and – most valuable of all – he got the benefit of them going off to have other experiences.

“It was brilliant,” he said. “They would all go off, learn new skills on someone else’s money and time, and then when I had a more senior role I would go and rehire them. It was one of the most successful things I ever did.”

Simple and brilliant advice. Why would you burn bridges, or let your ego get in the way, when someone resigns? Especially when it gives you the opportunity to promote someone else and then, when the moment suits you, pluck an already trusted operator back again to come back and excel for you again?

All in all, I know whose leaving drinks I’d rather go to!

* I did four months of Garden Leave as it turned out, and started my on business well-rested and with the cushion of a significant yet entirely unnecessary payout from my old company for unfair dismissal.