My stride is a good deal brisker nowadays. I exude thrust, ambition, achievement and sharply-creased trousers. Why? Because I feel as close to the Promised Land as the day I got my first Valentine card. It later turned out it was sent by my mum because she felt sorry for me. Like other disappointments, I took it on one of my chins and moved on.
But now I’m certain a seat on the board is being warmed up for me – all thanks to an e-mail that was forwarded to me (in complete breach of our e-mail policy) by my mole in the executive suite. It said that our formerly blinkered leadership was about to set up a Human Capital Board, whose chairperson will have board-level status. There can only be one HCB chairman, and that’s yours truly.
I must say, I’ve played this one like a pro.
I ensured every member of the board was made fully aware of the exigencies of the Kingsmill report when I ran the Kingsmill Sandwich course. “A filling experience FOR? HR,” the CEO told me.
Then I put the few members of the department who can count on metrics patrol, with the command: “If it moves, measure it, if it breathes, measure it, and if it doesn’t, send it to occupational health.”
That ensured a stockpile of human capital ammo to fire at the board.
Then I insisted that all in the HR team refer to staff as human capital.
One had the nerve to tell me that was Orwellian rubbish.
“That’s as may be,” I told him before putting the wretch on comparative compensation and benefits policy re-alignment duties.
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