There was a time when a job description told you what the job was.
Now?
It's thesaurus-fuelled LinkedIn slop written by a mid-level manager who, on more than one occasion, has earnestly used the term “collaborative enhancement."
Foster cross-functional relationships.
Demonstrate stakeholder empathy while operationalizing scalable innovation.
What the fuck does any of that mean?
Here's what everyone knows but no one says: it doesn’t mean anything. It’s a linguistic smoke bomb. And we’ve all inhaled the fumes.
We’re drowning in corporate fodder, strung along by bullet points that sound like they were generated by an LLM trained on “thought leaders.”
And yet, we nod. We apply. We accept.
Because what choice do we have?
Imagine this: You're reading a job ad. It says, “Must have strong attention to detail, a positive attitude, and excellent people skills.”
Cool. Earth-shattering stuff.
Who’s reading that and saying, “Ah, you know what? I was going to apply, but I’m actually quite sloppy with a flair for the antisocial. Not for me.”
It’s not a filter. It’s fluff.
Why is it like this?
Because this didn’t just happen.
It’s not random.
It’s engineered.
Ambiguity is a Feature, Not a Bug
If a job is clearly defined, you can measure success.
If success is measurable, you can demonstrate value.
If you can demonstrate value, you can ask for more money.
So, you get job descriptions full of abstraction:
“You’ll own stakeholder engagement and drive alignment across cross-functional teams.”
What does that mean? No one knows. And because no one knows, no one can say you’re not doing it. Or that you are. And that’s the point.
Vagueness becomes safety. You can't fail at a job that’s impossible to define. And you can’t challenge the hierarchy when everyone’s too busy decoding their own role.
This hits.
Preach.