Watch your language, Mr. Speaker

Last Thursday, I woke to my radio playing a sound bite from U.S. House Speaker Paul Ryan (R-Wis.). He was talking about the U.S. government's refugee policies in response to the Syrian crisis and the Paris attacks. 

Advocating a halt on accepting refugees from Syria into the U.S., Ryan said he was looking for a pause in the refugee program. In his words, he wanted to stop the refugee program, "...until we can be certain beyond any doubt that those coming here are not a threat. It's that simple, and I don't think it's asking too much."

Well, actually, yes, it is asking too much.

I would like to be certain beyond any doubt that I won't be hit by a drunk driver next week. I would like to be certain beyond any doubt that no American with a gun will walk into a U.S. elementary school and start shooting children next month. I would like to be certain beyond any doubt that politicians would speak the truth all of the time. 

To be fair, earlier in Ryan's same floor speech to house members, he said: "People understand the plight of those fleeing the Middle East. But they also want basic assurances for the safety of this country." Those words sound reasonable, wise and measured. But they were a decoy. Experts agree that stringent requirements are already in place for refugees coming to the U.S.

Ryan stepped up his rhetoric with his "beyond any doubt" language. He implied that there are significant issues with our current refugee program and that, as a result, all Americans are at risk—unless we can offer 100-percent guarantees that no refugees coming to the U.S. will pose a threat to our citizens. With those words, he strayed into the polarizing language of absolutes. We can never ensure that all Americans can be protected from acts of terror, as much as we'd like to.

In moments like these, I am reminded of the power of language. A policy is nothing but words after all, and political language matters as much as policy content.  In a nation grappling with fissures in its politics, economic structure, and social fabric, we need elected leaders who speak frankly about complex issues while avoiding false premises or unrealistic promises that play off peoples' fears. 

Our national discussion on refugee policies is far too important to be cloaked in faulty phrases that stoke fears. It demands precise language, persuasive arguments and realistic solutions that are aligned with our nation's values. Careful language is essential.

Is that too much to ask?

It's time to step away from the T-word

As if you have to ask. You know you've said it. You know you've been saying it too much. You may have tried to stop, but can't. In the U.S., especially, people seem fixated on it.

The T-word makes many of us incredulous. It enthralls some, repels others. No one is neutral about the T-word. Some repeat it out loud to make sense of it. Few of us are immune to it. It baits us like P.T. Barnum, or Harold Hill, or Jay Gatsby.

It seems a distinctly American word: trump. There, I said it. As in "to trump" or be "trumped." It implies a quick, clever trick. It's an abrupt word. Linguistically sharp with edgy elbows at the beginning and end. One syllable, one note. Simple, really. 

There is theater in the trump card. It is often played with an arm-waving flourish, designed not just to win, but also to attract attention while doing it, say, like wearing a bright red cap in a crowd. It implies gamesmanship without the need for consistent skill. 

Photo by Isaac Brekken/Getty Images News / Getty Images

The Random House dictionary defines the word trump as "any playing card of a suit that for the time outranks the other suits." It's just a suit of a different color, powerful for the moment, yet transient by definition. A fleeting center of gravity without the gravitas. Still it is a winning strategy at the right time.

In our times, the T-word feeds our infotainment culture perfectly. It's showy and sometimes unpredictable and that is always seductive. The more we drop the T-bomb, the more the media covers it. And the more it is in the news, the more it seems like a real movement. And maybe it is. 

The T-word appeals to our basest instincts. We keep it alive in a national game of gossip. It has a can't-look-away quality that hooks us and makes us feel that maybe we, too, can speak our minds bluntly and be heard and followed and admired. Maybe we are all apprentice celebrities in waiting. 

For now, the T-word remains bold, loud, and fearless. It blares like a trumpet without a score. But it is not sustainable. Our brains habituate naturally. Even the T-word will become a habit and the habit will become boring. We'll stop hearing the continuous hucksterism. It will be like tuning out a barker at the county fair. The non-stop snarling will fade into background noise. 

Until the 24/7 trumping finds its rightful dead end, there is something we can all do. Stop saying the T-word. When you hear it, change the subject to Rubio or Clinton, Sanders or Fiorina. If you have to, Jindal. 

Because the T-word only has power if you let it. Don't let it roll off your tongue. Buck up, be brave and back away from the T-word. You can do it. Really. Go cold turkey if you have to. Now. 

Is there a human metric for the workplace?

Many of my friends are getting sick from work. After years of being on call 24/7, one landed in the emergency room with chest pains and chronic depression. Another went through a series of tests for abdominal ailments after months of overtime, producing top-quality projects with no end in sight. Other friends complain of chronic insomnia and vague anxiety that creeps into all aspects of their lives. Some sleep through weekends to refresh themselves from grueling workweeks.

They just can't handle the stress you say? Nope. These are people in their forties and fifties with years of consulting and managerial experience. They are some of the brightest, most dedicated and capable people I know. They are creative and flexible collaborators who want to do a good job for their companies, always. Often exhausted, they don't feel they have a choice but to soldier on in jobs that expect too much and give too little and not just in monetary compensation (although that is an issue for some). But in trust, respect and humane treatment.

So what constitutes humane treatment in today's economy? The New York Times article "Inside Amazon: Wrestling Big Ideas in a Bruising Workplace," broke this discussion wide open with its scathing look at the workplace and culture at uber-retailer Amazon. There were accounts of people crying at their desks, routinely receiving emails after midnight, and being encouraged to tear down their colleague's work in a practice known as "purposeful Darwinism." As the article states, "[Amazon] is conducting a little-known experiment in how far it can push white-collar workers, redrawing the boundaries of what is acceptable."

This article has received more comments on the Times website than any other article in the paper's history (5,858 comments at the moment). It sparked numerous responses from other newspapers and media outlets and an hour-long show on National Public Radio's Diane Rehm show. It has been a topic of conversation with nearly everyone I know during the past two weeks. 

The real surprise is not that Amazon is a brutal place to work in the winner-takes-all, online shopper sweepstakes. The revelation is how much this story resonated with such a wide range of people. Many workers in different industries -- law, medicine, consulting, technology -- feel stressed beyond their limits. This may explain, in part, why more people don't leave their jobs. With an epidemic of overly-stressed American workers, many feel there is nowhere else to go for relief.

Is big data to blame? These days, employee productivity is measured and analyzed, then repackaged and distributed as marching orders. At Amazon, individual productivity is measured daily, which appears to be a trend in worker productivity metrics. It's unclear whether these daily metrics account for team meetings and broken toilets, not to mention child care, doctor's appointments, and lost dogs or, God forbid, serious illness. 

Shouldn't there be a metric to account for how human beings work? I am not talking about coddling people, but identifying what a capable and efficient person can deliver in an average day. Historically, companies used a basic metric for humane treatment: hire enough people to handle the workload in eight hours a day. An old notion in today's economy, perhaps. 

Can big data actually help? Why not use metrics to identify when work expectations are being upped beyond the capacity of most mere mortals? By stretching workers beyond their human capacity, we are likely getting less, not more, productivity from them -- and fewer innovative ideas that today's companies need. 

Metrics could determine the optimal factors that enable individuals to deliver peak performance. Is there not a dynamic measure that can accurately predict the optimal work activity that coincides with the humane treatment of individual workers on a daily basis? You know, personalized measures for engaging and motivating employees, just like personalized email messages to sell you your favorite brand of shoes. 

An unrealistic notion? Maybe. But isn't it just the sort of innovative workplace idea we need to avoid burning people out to the point that they are no longer productive, or simply discarded? It's worth exploring a more sustainable approach to motivating and keeping great workers. Something that goes beyond the family friendly policies that only scratch the surface of what defines a great workplace. There must be a way to make both businesses and employees thrive simultaneously. If only we can get companies to see humanity in the data.