Dick Solomon's guide to earthling workplace communication
The Sunday Lite - A transmission from the high commander of the third rock from the sun
Loosely based upon the TV series Third rock from the sun
The great human deception has been exposed
Greetings, fellow superior beings. After extensive field research disguised as a physics professor at Penleton University, I have uncovered the most bizarre ritual plaguing young earthlings: their complete inability to communicate in workplace environments despite being the most communicatively advanced generation in human history.
The irony is delicious. These creatures have mastered the art of condensing complex emotional states into moving pictures called "gifs" and can coordinate elaborate social gatherings across multiple time zones using devices smaller than Sally's compact mirror. Yet place them in a fluorescent-lit chamber called an "office" and they transform into mute, trembling specimens.
The academic grooming conspiracy
Human universities operate as sophisticated brainwashing facilities. Students arrive as curious, questioning beings and emerge as essay-writing automatons programmed to regurgitate approved thoughts in precisely 2,000-word installments. They learn to worship something called "word count" like we once worshipped the Great Gazoo.
Tommy experienced this firsthand. After one semester, he began speaking exclusively in thesis statements. "The purpose of this dinner conversation is to explore the socio-economic implications of Harry's meatloaf." I had to deprogram him using repeated viewings of Gilligan's Island.
Corporate doublespeak: the secondary infection
Fresh from academic reconditioning, these young humans enter workplaces that demand they abandon everything they just learned. Instead of crafting perfect paragraphs, they must decode passive-aggressive email chains longer than War and Peace. Success requires translating statements like "per my previous email" (human for "listen here, you incompetent fool") and "circling back" (a phrase that means nothing and everything simultaneously).
The older humans, having survived decades in these communication wastelands, speak exclusively in what they call "corporate jargon." It's like watching primitive tribes communicate through smoke signals, except less efficient and far more painful.
The vulnerability weapon
Here's where my superior alien intellect identified their fatal flaw: humans believe admitting ignorance equals professional suicide. Wrong! On our home planet, the phrase "I don't understand your gibberish" is considered the highest form of intellectual honesty.
These young earthlings must weaponize their confusion. When someone mentions "leveraging core competencies for synergistic outcomes," the correct response isn't nodding like a bobblehead doll. It's asking, "What the hell does that actually mean?" Watch the speaker's face crumble as they realize they don't know either.
The listening superpower
Most workplace communication resembles our old interrogation techniques: everyone talks, nobody listens, and the truth gets buried under layers of meaningless noise. Young humans possess an untapped advantage – they haven't been fully absorbed into this madness yet.
They can ask the questions that expose the emperor's nakedness:
"Why do we hold meetings about planning meetings?"
"What problem are we actually solving here?"
"Is this entire department just an elaborate form of performance art?"
Mary demonstrated this perfectly during a faculty meeting. While everyone debated the "strategic vision for educational excellence," she asked, "Shouldn't we just focus on whether students are learning anything?" The room fell silent. It was beautiful.
The improv strategy
Stand-up comedians understand something corporate humans have forgotten: communication is about connection, not perfection. These entertainers master the art of "yes, and" – building on ideas rather than destroying them with bureaucratic precision.
Next time someone proposes a "paradigm shift in customer engagement strategies," try responding with "yes, and what does that look like when I'm actually talking to a customer?" Watch their corporate facade crumble faster than Harry's attempted soufflé.
Breaking the cycle
The most tragic aspect of this human communication crisis is its self-perpetuating nature. Today's confused young professionals become tomorrow's jargon-spewing managers, continuing the cycle of linguistic destruction.
Someone must break this pattern. Why not these fresh-faced earthlings? They possess the one quality their predecessors have lost: the ability to spot complete nonsense when they see it.
Mission directive
Young humans of earth, your assignment is clear. Stop trying to sound like the corporate drones surrounding you. They communicate like malfunctioning robots programmed by other malfunctioning robots. You are not malfunctioning robots. You are curious, direct, honest beings trapped in an absurd system.
Ask the obvious questions. Admit your confusion. Speak like actual humans instead of walking business buzzword generators. The universe depends on it.
Your mission, is to communicate with the radical transparency of beings who haven't forgotten what actual conversation feels like.
Now go forth and confuse your managers with your refreshing honesty. They'll never see it coming.
End transmission
Dick Solomon is the high commander and distinguished professor of physics at Penleton University, where he continues his anthropological study of human workplace dysfunction while maintaining his cover as an insufferably pompous academic.
Look out for The Wednesday Unveiled - Unlearning Academic Communication - You’ve been groomed to impress professors
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