When Words Meant More Than Clicks

I still remember when the web felt… quieter. Or maybe not quieter, but less desperate. Back then, maybe 2005-ish, you didn’t feel like every single word online was trying to sell you something or trick an algorithm into liking it. Words had weight. Not just SEO density. There was a kind of rawness to communication that feels almost… nostalgic now.

I stumbled across this old page from communicationvalue.com, archived like a dusty book on a forgotten shelf. And something about it hit me. Like, wow — remember when “value” in communication didn’t mean “optimize your funnel”? It actually meant… connect. Speak. Risk saying something real.

These days, everything feels so optimized. So clean. Too clean, honestly. You read an article and it’s like you can smell the AI that wrote it. Sentences polished within an inch of their lives. No typos, no sighs, no rambling thoughts or half-finished ideas. But that’s not how people really talk. That’s not how we write emails at 2 a.m. when our hearts are a little heavy, or how we text a friend after a fight.

What if we brought a little bit of that mess back? That realness. The awkward pauses, the overused metaphors, the gut-punch honesty. That’s what communication value actually is, isn’t it? Not perfect delivery, but honest connection. Not writing to rank on page one, but writing to resonate — with one person, even. Maybe especially just one.

I’m not saying SEO is evil or automation is the enemy. I get it. We’ve all got stuff to do, and tech helps. But in the rush to be efficient, we’ve kind of lost the beautiful friction of human expression. That unpredictability. That delightful chaos that comes when you don’t quite know where your next sentence is going, but you write it anyway.

Communication isn’t a formula. It’s not a CTA button. It’s messy. It’s a voice cracking mid-sentence. It’s someone misspelling a word because they’re typing fast and feeling more than they can say. It’s calling your reader “you” like you actually know them. It’s the value of not trying so hard to sound smart — and just being present.

Sometimes I write things now and feel like they’re being scanned more by machines than by humans. That the measure of my words isn’t whether someone felt understood, but whether a bot thinks it’s “engaging.” And I don’t know, man… that kinda sucks. Real connection isn’t measurable like that. It’s a spark. A sigh. A sentence you reread three times because it just gets you.

So yeah. If you’re writing for communicationvalue.com, or honestly just writing anything, maybe let a little bit of the human back in. The flaws, the feels, the fear of not being good enough — it’s all part of the package. That’s what makes communication valuable.

And if a typo slips in, or if the grammar’s a bit off, or if you ramble too long… maybe leave it. That’s you. That’s the voice someone might actually listen to, not because it’s perfect — but because it’s real.

Why Talking (and Not Talking) Still Feels Like a Puzzle

scribbles from someone who can’t stop overthinking things

Alright, so—let me start by admitting I’m no guru on this. I’m just some random person who spent way too much time clicking around this archive of communicationvalue.com, scratching my head (and occasionally nodding). It’s weirdly comforting to see notes from… what, 2006? They’re like diary entries on how to make words count. But here we are, nearly two decades later, and I’m still tripping over my own sentences.

Texts buzz in with “K” or a 👍, emails land with bullet lists—everything neat. And don’t get me wrong, I love a clean inbox as much as the next person. But sometimes I feel like we’re packaging feelings into little boxes, stamping them “OK to ship.” Have you ever sent a message and then stared at your screen thinking, “Wait, did that even make sense?” I have—literally five minutes ago. 🙄

I stumbled on an article that claimed workplace communication is more crucial than ever. Sure, metrics and KPIs are sexy, but can you really chart the warmth of a voice note or the relief in a coworker’s “Hey, you good?” Nah, you can’t. And honestly? I’m kinda glad. Because if everything got too clinical, we’d lose the messy bits—the spontaneous laughs, the “Oops, that came out wrong” moments.

Imagine this: you’re on a Zoom call, right? You say “uh” like ten times, your dog barks, your kid barges in asking for snacks, and you miss half the point. But then someone cracks a joke about their cat and suddenly it’s not a work meeting anymore—it’s… human. My guess: those chaotic interruptions do more for team spirit than any slide deck ever will.

Over on Communication Value Circle, they talk big game about aligning messaging with strategy. Cool, cool—strategy matters, but sometimes it feels like reading a manual when you just wanna chat. I remember once I typed an email, then deleted half because I got self-conscious, then added parentheses with a sorry excuse: “(ugh, that sounded stiff).” And you know what? The recipient wrote back with three emojis and actual warmth. That tiny flaw made the exchange memorable.

Side note: I found a neat piece on empathy in the workplace—Empathy at Work. It’s fancy but simple: caring a bit—just a bit—goes a long way. So next time you craft your “official” response, maybe toss in “Hope your Monday’s bearable” or “Sorry for the wall of text lol.” It’s ok if it’s imperfect.

Okay, confession time—I sometimes pause mid-conversation to think, “Am I saying too much?” or “Did I say enough?” It’s exhausting. And then I remind myself: no one’s grading us. We’re not auditioning for a communication Olympics. We’re just trying to connect, in our own roundabout, typo-filled ways.

Oh, and let’s not forget nonverbal stuff—tone, body language, that tiny hesitation before you speak. Even a half-smile can carry miles of meaning. I wish the old site had more on that, but hey, maybe that’s on me to dig deeper.

So, what’s the takeaway? Maybe it’s this: embrace the stumbles. Leave a typo or two—like “definately” instead of “definitely”—and watch how people respond. Admit when you’re lost (“I’m kinda confused, can you clarify?”). Laugh at your own awkwardness. Because in the end, communication isn’t about flawless delivery—it’s about showing up, warts and all.

That’s all from me. If nothing else, I hope you feel less alone in the jumble of chats and calls. We’re all just figuring it out, one typo and one heartfelt “hey, how are you?” at a time.