You can run perfect conduit. You can show up on time every single day. You can do everything right — and throw it all away by leaving wrong.

This is the episode about how me and Bundy dragged up from the Superdome. And why how you leave a job matters just as much as how you work it.

After the rafters. After the ice cream. After signing our names on that wall — a company man came around one day and told us to bring our tools down from the roof and work with the rest of the crew on the ground.

I looked at Bundy. I said: if I bring my tools down, I'm going home. It's over.

He said the same thing.

We weren't ghosting. We weren't sneaking out the back gate. We weren't burning anything. We walked straight into the Gen. Foreman's office — that big Cajun man who'd been shaking up in those rafters when we first started — and we told him straight: we're done. No drama. No excuses. We did our work. Time to move on.

He stood up. Shook our hands like men. Looked us dead in the eye and said: "You boys did a good job."

Then he walked out to the circle of hands. Made an announcement loud enough for the whole room to hear. Paused. Then said five words that hit like a lead plate on your chest:

"They could come back anytime."

That's currency. Not a check. Not a bonus. The weight of a good name, vouched for in public, in front of everybody.

And one man in that circle heard every word — and he was already reaching for his phone.

How you leave a job is how you're remembered. Leave it clean. Leave it right. Those doors stay open — and your name travels ahead of you.