Corporate Bullshit? Or My Bullshit?
Authorship. Not Authenticity.
A regional leader told me he’s tired of “corporate bullshit.” Templates. KPIs. Strategy projects. Same bla-bla-bla.
And… I realized how useful the word corporate is. It lets you say bullshit without saying me. You can call it bullshit and still keep your hands clean.
Because “corporate bullshit” is rarely a type of language. It’s a type of permission.
Permission to keep a sentence alive after everyone felt it die.
Permission to nod at words no one would use at home.
Permission to treat “alignment” as a substitute for thinking.
I’ve done it too — usually when the room wanted speed, not precision.
It’s the quiet agreement that says: “We all know this is empty — but let’s keep it anyway. It matches the slide.” Or: “It’s already in the deck.”
Corporate bullshit runs on one sentence: “It’s not mine — I’m just sharing it.” Translation: I’m outsourcing authorship.
Which is why legal constructs don’t produce bullshit. We do. Politely.
A vision/mission is a phrase. The problem begins when the phrase replaces a choice.
A KPI is a number. The problem begins when the number becomes a substitute for judgment.
A strategy is a choice. The problem begins when strategy becomes literature: elegant, coherent, harmless.
We keep asking for “authenticity” to fight corporate bullshit. Maybe authenticity isn’t the antidote. Maybe authorship is.
Authorship is a small behavior: refusing to animate dead sentences, asking “what do we mean, precisely?”
No drama. No rebellion. Just not laundering emptiness through your title.
But beyond permission, this is a mirror of what we won’t face in ourselves: the fear of losing the version of us that has always worked, the need to stay impressive without taking a real stand, the fear of saying what we see and not being invited back.
We complain about corporate bullshit — then we polish it, approve it, and circulate it.
So the question isn’t whether corporate bullshit exists. The question is: who’s signing it?—
One way of seeing.
For now.
