I am honoured. The Chief Information Officer reached out to me today for a wee chat. Though no credit to me; this was prompted by a conversation they had had with the budding apprentice I’d tried to support months ago.
After a friendly exchange, they asked me what I was doing for succession planning. I told them about my abandoned proposal for an agile web team, set aside because it didn’t gain traction with finance.
Then, jettisoning all diplomacy — because I’m in that kind of mood right now — I told them I’ve retreated back into myself again, planning for ChatGPT to succeed me when I hit 55. A bad move? Maybe, maybe not.
Seconds later, they pinged a one-to-one invite into my diary for a formal conversation. It’s almost as if someone, somewhere, suddenly remembered I exist. Do I invest hope in this moment? Only the faintest trace. It never pays to be too hopeful around here.
Last modified: 5 November 2024
