The Promotion of the Office Plant

How it begins

The fern became chief executive at nine seventeen.

At nine eighteen, Rosa moved it away from the radiator.

Its first leadership decision had apparently been dehydration.

The announcement appeared on every screen in the office.

Congratulations to FERN FOURTEEN for exceptional resilience, consistent presence and outstanding performance under pressure.

Rosa had been cleaning around it for eleven years.

She felt those qualifications were fair.

Martin from HR arrived carrying a tablet.

"We need to establish a communication protocol."

"It needs water."

"We were hoping for something scalable."

Rosa fetched the watering can.

By ten, the board had gathered in the large meeting room. Someone had placed the fern at the head of the table. Someone else had given it a temporary security badge.

The chair of finance looked at Rosa.

"Are you its representative?"

"I'm the person who knows where the water goes."

"Excellent. We need a position on the restructuring."

Rosa examined the fern.

Three leaves were brown.

Its pot was too small.

Nobody had opened the blinds.

"Its position," she said, "is that this room needs light."

The board assistant wrote it down.

By lunchtime, all twelve floors had received an email announcing a new transparency initiative.

Rosa ate her sandwich beside the supply cupboard.

Martin sat on an overturned bucket.

"I checked the review," he said.

"And?"

"It hasn't missed a meeting in six years."

"Neither have the chairs."

"It never interrupts."

"Neither do people who are afraid."

Martin looked at the watering can.

On his tablet, another announcement appeared.

FERN FOURTEEN has approved the removal of unnecessary maintenance expenditure.

Rosa read it twice.

Then she stood.

The fern had never approved anything in its life.

That was one of the things she liked about it.

"Where's the boardroom key?" she asked.

Martin closed the tablet.

For once, he followed a person instead of a procedure.