That you were once a little boy, or girl.
The name of your hometown (if not New York, Washington, Chicago or Los Angeles). The name of your college (if not Harvard, Princeton or Yale).
That you read “Dilbert.”
That you had an illness at one time, or broke a bone. (As this implied you had a body, which was a pretty big admission in the uptight corporate 1990s, when a seminar leader once told me he could break up a room up by pointing to a scab on his elbow.)
Referring with a chuckle to “corporate b.s.”
“I forgot my business cards.” (For which someone would actually bawl you out.)
That you weren’t so sanguine about the Internet, and how it was going to make business communication so incredibly much more effective and life better for everyone.
That you were honestly still a little hazy about what exactly was meant by “the New Economy.”
That you had children (especially if you were a woman). This exposed you to the assumption that you were a professional dabbler.
That you believed in “lifelong learning,” but not every single day. And “continuous improvement,” but not “constant improvement.”
“I’m not the best networker.”
That you were unhappy in your job, which meant you might be a malcontent. (Or worse, someone with the temerity to expect happiness in a corporate job.)
That you enjoyed the occasional bourbon.
That you didn’t know what “Second Life” was, or what it might have to do with corporate communication.
That you were a Democrat, or a Republican.
That you weren’t so sanguine about social media, and how it was going to make business communication so incredibly much more effective and life better for everyone.
That you brought a little bit of dope to the conference, and did anyone want to go up to your room and smoke some?
“Fuck Donald Trump!” “Fuck Hillary Clinton!”
That you are neither a boy, or a girl.
“The speech was pretty great before the chief legal counsel pencil-fucked it.”
“I feel my soul is collapsing, but as long as I keep working 24/7, I won’t have to know for sure!”
“I am only wearing underpants, and see that refrigerator right there by my desk? That’s my wine fridge. And over there is my vibrator. It’s called self-care.”
“I read a book about about drug-addicted Nazis, and they remind me of the corporate bosses we work for.”
“Between sessions, I got a text saying my husband ran off with my best friend. I’m going to miss her.”
“I took two weeks off to find my inner self. By the first Friday I realized there was none, so I went back to work.”
“I hate everybody and everybody hates me. That’s the way it is, and that’s the way I like it to be.”
“You think I’m unprofessional? Well, fuck you!”