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Or, why do we say “whee” instead of “us on a rollercoaster?”

By Ed Goldman

Just say “oui” to “we.” That’s the latest message from academia, though it may just as well have emanated from this column’s Institute of Dubious Solutions to Nonexistent Problems.

In a very recent “C-Suite Strategies” supplement of the Wall Street Journal, we’re told, “When you’re delivering a message that might upset another person, there’s one simple thing you can do to increase buy-in: Use ‘we’ instead of ‘you.'”

Sorry, but this sounds like an overly solicitous hospital nurse waking us to ask how “we” feel at 3 a.m.—or a waiter asking if “we’re” enjoying our entrée (usually when our mouths are full; I’m convinced they learn how to time this in waiter school).

More from the Journal: “In a series of studied, researchers found that in conflict-laden interactions—such as employee reviews or political conversations—’the use of “you” can make someone feel targeted and less likely to engage,’ says Mohamed A. Hussein, an assistant professor of marketing at Columbia Business School.” Saying “we” instead of you allegedly “signals receptiveness, which enhances persuasiveness,” sayeth the sage.

This is more of what I’ve started calling PC Pronoun Poppycock. For example, when we’re firing people for jobsite infractions ranging from embezzling money to Xeroxing their thighs, why should we include ourselves in the exit chat? 

“Sorry, Kevin, but we really should have known better than to pocket the contents of the petty cash drawer, which we did for six weeks in a row. We’re afraid we’re going to have to let us go.”

“‘Us?'” asks Kevin. “You did it, too?”

“Well, no, we were just—”

“I didn’t think I left anything in the jar.”

I’m not sure how this would work in a political argument, either. “We think if we’re voting for Trump, we’re idiots, Tessa.”

“You’re voting for trump?” asks Tessa.

“Well, no, we’re not. We’re just trying to be inclusive.”

“Oh. Then you’re right. We are idiots.”

“If you seem like you’re an open-minded person yourself, people naturally want to reciprocate that,” says Assistant Professor Hussein. I keep imagining him having a conversation with his department’s tenure-granting board that would go something like this:

“What did you wish to speak with us about, Mohamed?”

“To be frank, we’re concerned that we’re still an assistant professor while we clowns are fully tenured.”

“I’m sorry, I lost the train of–“

“We should be granting us tenure!” explodes Hussein. “If we don’t, we’ll have to find someone to replace us in the business department.”

I envision the head of committee saying after a pause, “Okay. We will. Don’t let the door hit us on the butt while we leave.””

Decades ago, CBS-TV had an all-around daytime host/commercial pitchman named Arthur Godfrey. Next to the network’s famous news anchor, Walter Cronkite, Godfrey was one of the most trusted men in America, so you can see why the sponsors of his show wanted him to also do their commercials.

The personable (at least on-air) Godfrey did something that would revolutionize ad-speak. He spoke in the “second person” to address his target audience. Instead of saying, “Housewives will really love this detergent for getting out those tough spaghetti sauce stains” he’d say, “Housewives, you’ll really love this detergent for getting out those tough spaghetti sauce stains.”