This month, as torrential rains continue to sweep across much of Asia and, by all accounts, most of the planet, I seem to have been caught in a bit of a downpour myself. For some unknown reason, half the meetings I’ve attended throughout August have included some egomaniac who is hell bent on masterminding their own version of linguistic flooding: a lexicon of management speak that would leave the most jargon-hungry executive bloated, well, beyond words.
Quite what’s causing this unseasonable affront is beyond me. But I’m pleased to report that I can now spot incoming cant at fifty paces – and, as a consequence, am a deft hand at flicking open the verbal vomit brolly long before the meeting barometer swings into storm warning mode.
Alarm bells first went off when listening to an independent consultant involved in a current client assignment. He talked about core, and non-core promises, impacting engagement strategies and deliverables for stakeholder interaction. They would require structural adjustment, he said, due to the potential for negatively impactful outcomes. He spoke for a full 20 minutes. He didn’t draw breath once.
When he’d finished, and following a moment’s uncomfortable silence, the client choked quietly and politely and said, “So we need to change our approach?” “Critical”, he responded. “Unequivocally critical”.
I’m all for demonstrating smart thinking through expressive and articulate use of the English language, but I’m beginning to think there’s far too many people in our business who are using vocabulary to shroud a fundamental lack of insight into the issue at hand. Sit in enough meetings where Mr Verbose has control of the agenda and you’ll soon see that it’s a pretty thin veil of intellect that he’s wearing. A couple of point blank questions along the lines of, “So what do you consider to be the real issue here, Geoffrey?” will show his true colours. He’ll either go back to basics to pinpoint the heart of the issue, or he’ll transition from red to a deeply disturbing claret and quickly drown in a sea of alphabetic clutter.
Verbal bombasity is nothing new. But I suspect the rise and rise of business management books have something to do with an underlying sense among young executives that unless they drop a six syllable linguistic depth charge into a meeting, they won’t be taken seriously. I say, to the contrary. Simple, articulate English works wonders. When I media train Weber Shandwick clients, I spend a lot of time exploring the language behind corporate messaging. More often than not, single words capture the essence of an organisation’s business aspirations or value-set far better than a mind-boggling rendition of the Oxford Book of Management Speak. I call it the Blah, Blah, Blah theory. Others have less subtle terms for it.
Despite the cacophony of aural abuse I’ve endured over the years, I’m still more frustrated by one expression than any other. Perhaps, ironically, it shows no effort to trawl the depths of this rich language of ours, no hint of linguistic idiosyncrasy that it can call its own. This one just gets my goat because it is so fundamentally over-used that its very meaning has been consumed by flagrant and unwarranted abuse. What’s the phrase?
“We are truly excited by ….”
Yuuuuuuuk!! Some people hate the sound of fingernails on a blackboard. Others simply can’t abide the close range crunching of oven-made crisps. For me, it’s the “truly excited” moment that has a troubling habit of introducing far too many remarkably unexciting announcements. The number of times I have struck through this expression in draft speeches or media releases is mind numbing. In so many instances it shouts, “This could well be the most dull thing you’ve ever heard, but bare with us for a moment ….. please ….. please, just listen to us for a few seconds more”. And to make matters worse, it’s an expression that tends to be delivered with complete and absolute utter boredom. Most undertakers, woken at 2.00 a.m., could do better in delivering the phrase than many of the execs or politicians I’ve heard. And let’s face it, death ain’t exactly the most exciting of prospects on any occasion.
The English language is such an expressive, powerful and enriching tool that the “truly excited” phrase should, in my humble opinion, be cast off into the fires of corporate hell, banished to the lyrics library of the Pointer Sisters (who, to their credit, at least sounded marginally uplifted by the fact that they were So Excited). To be excited is one thing. But to be truly excited suggests quite simply that you were never excited first time around, all of which does little for your long-term credibility as someone who speaks the truth.
So what could be deemed truly exciting? Well, how about the night before Christmas; the unwrapping of a long-awaited present; or the journey to the airport for a long-overdue holiday. That’s the best journey in the world, if you ask me.
Which is exactly why I’m about to take that very journey myself. The bags are packed, the kid’s bucket and spades taking pride of place, and the iPod loaded. This year, the album of choice is Grace Jones’ “Nightclubbing”. I’ve no idea why but I’m quite sure that there’s nothing better than some retro soul/ reggae to put a spring in your step. Right now, I consider the prospect of Grace and a long, cool beer by the sea to be a truly exciting proposition. See you in a week or so.
