I’ve sat through those meetings. You know the ones. The leadership team locked in a conference room for eight hours, trying to wordsmith a mission statement that captures the essence of what the company does, why it matters, and where it’s going.

Someone suggests “empower.” Someone else counters with “enable.” A third person insists we need “leverage” in there somewhere. By hour six, everyone’s exhausted. By hour seven, someone proposes we just vote. By hour eight, you’ve got a statement that sounds impressive, checks all the boxes, and means absolutely nothing to anyone who has to actually do the work.

The problem isn’t lack of effort. Everyone in that room is smart, committed, and genuinely trying to articulate something meaningful. The problem is the entire exercise is built on a false premise: that you can committee-design inspiration. That the right combination of powerful verbs and aspirational nouns will somehow create alignment and motivation.

It won’t.

Then comes the rollout. Company-wide meeting. Big reveal. The new mission statement gets projected on a screen. Leadership tries to generate enthusiasm. Middle management nods dutifully. Individual contributors check their phones. Someone from HR prints it on posters. Someone else updates the website. A few people change their email signatures.

Three months later, nobody can remember what it said. Six months later, the posters are peeling off the break room walls. A year later, someone suggests maybe we should revisit our mission statement because it doesn’t feel relevant anymore.

I lived this at multiple companies. Participated in the theater. Watched the predictable arc from initial excitement to collective forgetting. And here’s what I finally understood: the problem isn’t that we wrote bad mission statements. The problem is that mission statements themselves are fundamentally disconnected from how humans actually connect to work.

Through Another Lens is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

What We Did Instead

At Wavefront, we tried something different. We called them “observable behaviors.” Not what we aspired to be, not some lofty ideal we’d get to someday. Just what we actually did that made us different.

“Act like you own the company” was one.

Sounds simple, right? But it meant something specific. Don’t pass by something that “isn’t yours” to solve. Could be as simple as picking up a scrap of trash. Could be not allowing a lame idea to pass committee just because everyone’s tired. The owner, the leader, doesn’t settle.

True. Observable. You could point to it in the wild.

That behavior created everything else. Ownership. Accountability. Standards. Pride in the work.

But even that framework wasn’t quite right for what I’m doing now. Because observable behaviors still described a collective. A company. A team. And what I’m building now is fundamentally about individuals.

The Thing My Wife Invented

Kymberlee created this for Storytelling School. Calls it a building statement.

Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. Give it five years, every consultant will be selling building statement workshops. LinkedIn will be full of them. They’ll become the new corporate speak we’re trying to escape.

Fair.

But here’s the difference: I can prove every word of mine. It’s not aspirational language I’m hoping becomes true. It’s documentation of work already happening. That’s the litmus test. If you can’t point to evidence of what you’re building right now, you don’t have a building statement. You have an aspiration wearing a new label.

Key word is “building.”

“I am building.”

Not “Our mission is.” Not “We aspire to.” Not “We believe in.” Present tense. Active verb. Personal commitment.

This is radically different from a mission statement. A mission statement describes what an organization hopes to be. A building statement documents what an individual is actively creating right now. One is aspirational and collective. The other is documentary and personal.

Mine is: “I’m building a multigenerational network of thought leaders by integrating technology, creativity, and storytelling to empower voices and incite change.”

When I say that at a networking event for Coastal Intelligence, people stop. Not because it’s clever, but because it’s real. I can prove every word of it.

I’m actually building this network. Thousands of podcast interviews over the years. Dozens of people coached onto TEDx stages. Hundreds of Making Waves long-form conversations. An improv group that spans ages 23 to 70. Coastal Intelligence gatherings bringing multiple generations of tech leaders together. The Elder Council show with Duey Freeman, talking to younger men about what we’ve learned.

The “integrating technology, creativity, and storytelling” part isn’t marketing speak. Technology is what I did professionally for 30 years at Alias|Wavefront and other companies. Creativity is how I approach every problem. Storytelling is the only communication method I trust. I’m not borrowing impressive-sounding words. I’m describing my actual toolkit.

And “empower voices and incite change” isn’t aspirational fluff. I’ve watched a single TEDx talk reach millions of people and shift how they think. I’ve seen how the right story at the right moment can create ripples that last years. This isn’t theory. It’s observation.

The statement isn’t aspirational. It’s documentary. And that makes all the difference.

Why This Matters Right Now

Because we’re losing the ability to talk to each other.

Five generations in the workforce right now. Gen Z, Millennials, Gen X, Boomers, Silent Generation. All trying to collaborate. All speaking fundamentally different languages.

Projects fail not because of lack of talent, but because the 25-year-old with the fresh idea can’t get the 55-year-old with budget authority to understand why it matters. Innovation dies not from lack of creativity, but because the translation layer breaks down.

Companies make catastrophically stupid decisions because the young people see what’s coming but can’t make the old people listen, and the old people have wisdom the young people dismiss as “okay boomer.”

Remote work means we’re not accidentally learning each other’s communication styles anymore. AI is making it easier to stay in our bubbles. Social media algorithms show us people who talk like us, think like us, process information like us.

We’re self-segregating by generation without even noticing.

How Generations Actually Hear

Gen Z - ages 13 to 28 - short, visual, ironic. Vulnerability is currency. They’ll share struggles publicly in ways that make older generations uncomfortable. They smell corporate speak from miles away. They value realness over polish.

Millennials - ages 29 to 44 - narrative-driven, purpose-focused. “Here’s why this matters” is their opening line. They want the “why” before the “what.” Need to understand how everything connects to larger purpose.

Gen X - 45 to 60 - cynical, pragmatic, efficient. “Cut the b******t, what’s the actual plan?” They hear skeptically. Respect competence over credentials. Show them work, not dreams.

Boomers - 61 to 79 - formal, detailed, relationship-building. “Let me give you the context.” They value face-to-face and sustained relationships. Want the full story before decisions.

Same room. Same message. Four completely different entry points.

A 2022 Society for Human Resource Management survey found that 65% of Baby Boomers prefer face-to-face meetings, while only 34% of Gen Z share this preference. Meanwhile, 55% of Gen Z favor instant messaging for work communication, compared to just 28% of Boomers.

Research shows that 60% of employees identify generational differences as a direct cause of workplace conflict. Not personality clashes. Generational communication breakdowns.

What This Looks Like

My wife runs Tuesday night improv. I’m producer and player.

23-year-old jumps into a scene as Sabrina Carpenter. 70-year-old has absolutely no idea who that is.

But in improv, you can’t stop to ask “Who’s that?” You have to “choose to know” - accept it as truth, roll with it.

So the 70-year-old treats this stranger like they’re a pop star. Builds the scene without understanding the reference.

That’s the bridge. Not pretending to get it. Accepting you don’t need to understand every reference to participate in creating something together.

Or I’m networking for Coastal Intelligence. Deliver my building statement to mixed-age group.

28-year-old millennial immediately asks “How are you addressing equity in tech access?”

55-year-old Gen X cuts in: “What’s the business model?”

68-year-old wants to know “Who else is involved that I might know?”

Same statement. Same words. Three completely different entry points based on how they process information.

Or I’m coaching a 29-year-old prospective speaker. I say “Trust your authentic voice.”

They hear: “Be vulnerable and raw on stage.”

I meant: “Don’t try to sound like a TED speaker you saw on YouTube.”

Boomer coach would’ve said “Practice until you’re polished.” Would’ve meant the same thing - be yourself, not a performance. But the 20-year-old would’ve heard: “Be perfect.”

Same goal. Completely different language required to land it.

The Work Nobody Does

Building a multigenerational network isn’t just getting diverse ages in the room. It’s learning to translate in real time. Speak one way to Gen Z, another to Millennials, another to Gen X, another to Boomers. Not being fake. Meeting people where they actually are.

I work at this intensely. Deliberately keep young people in my orbit. People of all ages. Specifically so I can listen, understand their challenges.

With people older than me, I assume the mentee role even though I’m normally not in that position. Reverse the dynamic deliberately.

As an elder, I think that’s why I’m still here - to be helpful to others, whatever that looks like. And if we can’t communicate, I can’t help.

Most people don’t do this work. They’re waiting for the other person to stop talking so they can start. Missing things because they’re not paying attention to how the other person processes information.

I’m not saying I’ve solved this. I’m still learning.

Truth is, writing these weekly essays has forced me to get more vulnerable over time. Started out writing about ideas, frameworks, things I’d figured out. Safe territory. But the stories that actually land? Those require telling true stories. Being open about personal things.

That’s uncomfortable for a 72-year-old guy who spent decades in tech leadership. We were trained to have answers, not questions. But that training is exactly what creates the generational communication gap.

The Choice

The gap isn’t inevitable. It’s a choice.

You can stay in your generational bubble. Speak only to people who process information like you. Comfortable. Easy. Limiting.

Or you can build bridges. Learn how different generations hear things. Translate your message so it lands where you need it to land.

That’s the real work of building a multigenerational network. Not getting diverse ages in a room. Getting them actually to create something together.

Corporate mission statements are aspirational theater designed by committee to offend no one and inspire everyone. They fail at both.

Building statements are documentary truth created by individuals committed to specific work. They generate movement. Connection. Collaboration with people who actually care about what you’re creating.

What You’re Building

I’m building a multigenerational network of thought leaders by integrating technology, creativity, and storytelling to empower voices and incite change.

Every word true. Every word actively happening right now.

Not a mission statement. A commitment. A choice about how I’m spending the time I have left.

What are you building?

Not what your company hopes to achieve someday. What are you actively, personally, specifically building right now that matters enough to organize your life around?

Can’t answer that question? You don’t need better words. You need clearer work.

But if you can answer it - if you know what you’re building, how you’re building it, why it matters - say it. Out loud. To people who might care.

The right people will hear it. They’ll lean in. Ask questions. Want to know more.

And you’ll start building together across every divide supposedly separating us.

Including the one everyone says is impossible to bridge: the space between generations.

Thanks for reading Through Another Lens! This post is public, so feel free to share it.

Get full access to Through Another Lens at marksylvester.substack.com/subscribe