For once I feel the hand of history on my shoulder: I will chair the time capsule sub-committee.
It’s the MD’s brain-child. He wants the capsule buried beside the new extension that will be built next to head office. It will house the IT department. “They have their own culture,” he told me. “And I think a distinct new-build office will be the best place in which they can express it.”
Well that’s fine by me. The further away those T-shirted incompetents are from my department, the better.
He added that the new building will give us the chance to bury a time capsule containing items that typify our organisation. “All things must pass,” he said. “But a capsule will mean the organisation has left something behind to intrigue future generations who may stumble upon it.”
“Not if it’s buried 20-feet underground they won’t,” I told him.
“It will be clearly marked, with the imperative that it’s not to be opened for 200 years. Your job is to form a committee to decide what to put in it.”
And so I have. My equals will all attend with yours truly primus inter pares. Each department can recommend two items for inclusion.
For HR, that will mean a copy of the encouraging equality and meritocracy guide that I’m devising, plus a framed photo of me helping out on a recent departmental charity day at the local donkey sanctuary.
And for IT, I’ll suggest a chocolate teapot and a two-legged stool. After all, posterity should know it is as much use as either.