Target has a ridiculous assortment of names. Store managers are "Leaders On Duty" and cashiers are "Guest Service Team Members".
The worst has to be the euphemism for throwing shit in the garbage. If something needs to be thrown away? It is sent to fucking REVERSE LOGISTICS.
I grew up attending an Evangelical Christian church. In an effort to be urban and edgy, they use all kinds of bullshit weasel terms not unlike those used in the corporate world.
You don't join a Bible study, you get connected with a small group (accent on 'small'). The youth groups have names like Adventure Island, The Wave, Riptide, and Student Impact. If you're just visiting and don't normally go to church, you're a seeker. You don't live, you do life-and, if you take the next step by accepting the relevancy of God, you and Jesus can do life together!
My dumb kids aren't retards, they're exceptional. My black or poor kids aren't black or poor, they're 'at risk.'
I just had to deal with this.
I work in an industry which is thankfully devoid of this sort of bollocks as most people working in it actually do or make something, and management is very sparse. We needed to get some software we've written professionally documented and training materials developed for it.
The first company we spoke to offered to "quantify our capability into a competency matrix and then integrate that matrix into multiple training vectors, modifiable by personal ability scalars"
That proposal went into "filing" pretty quickly.
I really get sick of hearing the word "solution."
We're adopting a new networking solution for the office. We're here to provide marketing solutions. We need to have an all-hands to discuss possible furnishing solutions for home base. We need more solution solutions.
There are no answers to problems. There are solutions to inquiries.
That shit is really annoying.
All of my company's employees are "Associates."
I hate a large portion of my fellow associates.
"Really, Holmes!" I dropped into my seat, shocked. "You are remarkably tall! What are you, six foot six? Six foot eight?"
As the 19th century diver approaches a giant clam, a flash of brilliant golden light flares from within the shell. I emerge in a swirl of bubbles and do the timeless universal underwater hand signals for the following: ZODIAC KILLER, KKK, BLOOD OF YOUTH
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