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An old friend gets a new, bigger, better job. Handshakes and backslaps all around.

But then, a minor thunderbolt. As he leaves his current job, Old Friend reveals that he has left behind 1,000 hours of unused vacation.

Ancient Columnist Bob starts doing long division in his head. (The good news: He still can.) “That’s 25 weeks off that you never took,” Bob bleats.

Old Friend nods. He says nothing. That’s because he has no defense.

Old Friend was one of those super-dedicated workers who thought that any time away from his desk was (choose at least one):

A sign of weakness.

A sign of frivolity.

A sign that he cared more about sipping mai tais in the Caribbean than he cared about doing his job well.

Ancient Columnist Bob did not want to spoil the moment. He didn’t tell Old Friend what he really thought about all those non-vacations.

But ACB is about to let loose.

Vacations are not a measure of how seriously you take (or took) your job. They are an opportunity to recharge, to change your surroundings, to explore, to learn.

Vacations make you a better worker when you return, not a worse one while you are gone.

And vacations are a significant part of your pay package.

Old Friend had spent about 25 years at his previous job. He basically gave back one week of pay each of those years by not taking the time off that he could have taken.

Would Old Friend have voluntarily torn up one weekly paycheck in each of those years? Not in the world I inhabit.

Even worse, Old Friend did not work in an industry where he could collect his unused vacation in cash at the end of his service. His vacation time had always been use-it-or-lose-it. Each year, the clock re-set.

Old Friend did take a few days off, he acknowledged, “but only here and there.”

And he did amass a retirement lump. He can roll that over into his new employer’s retirement plan. So, he doesn’t move to his new life without any cushion or comfort.

But has he learned anything by forsaking all those hours and all those dollars?

“I guess so,” he told me. “But the truth is, I’d do it again. The job was the point.”

Old Friend can’t be blamed for his deep sense of responsibility. The woods are full of people, of all ages, who do as little at work as they can.

They watch the clock like hawks. They take two-hour lunches. They call in sick when they’re not sick. They spend company time checking and re-checking their retirement portfolios.

We should all admire Old Friend for rising to many occasions. He worked overtime when the job demanded it. He never made personal phone calls on company time.

He was late to work only once in 25 years — and that was because a tractor-trailer overturned on the Beltway right in front of him.

But leaving vacation on the shelf cheats not only Old Friend, but also his former employer.

Any boss wants his employees to be at the top of their game. By not taking vacation, Old Friend was running on his rims all those years.

Inevitably, he was more tired than he might have been. Inevitably, he was less productive than he might have been. Who wins in that scenario? No one.

I’m very aware of the old saw about vacations — that you often return from one needing another.

Been there myself. That first Monday morning back in the salt mines can seem daunting, especially if you’ve just spent a week at the beach with pouting, sleepless children.

And I’m very aware that vacations did not become a widely accepted part of the American workscape until about 100 years ago. Before then, only the wealthy could afford to take time off.

Old Friend has no regrets. He also has no plans to be a leopard who changes his spots.

I couldn’t resist asking him if he plans to take his earned vacation at his new job.

“Maybe,” he replied. “But only if I get around to it.”

Some leopards are mighty stubborn.

Bob Levey is a national award-winning columnist.