I am a retired Sergeant Major. Public Affairs.
Twenty-five years of balancing truth with tact, writing for commanders who barely skimmed their own talking points, and editing the rambling nonsense of officers who thought “brevity” was a four-letter word.
I have a degree in English. I’ve been writing longer than most of you have been alive — certainly longer than you’ve been “curating content” on LinkedIn. I was trained, drilled, and sharpened on the classics.
And somewhere between the Modernist poets and my AP Stylebooks, I was taught a weapon far more powerful than a bullet point: the em dash.
Yes — the em dash.
Not a hyphen. Not two dashes frantically mashed together like your toddler on a keyboard. A clean, deliberate break in thought. A pause with presence. A disruption that says: pay attention, this matters.
And yet, every time I write, I’m accused of using AI.
Why? Because apparently knowing grammar now makes me a robot.
Meanwhile, the same people who send emails with subject lines in ALL CAPS and strings of emojis — to their boss — want to lecture me on authenticity. The same people who think “there,” “their,” and “they’re” are interchangeable now patrol the digital streets, ready to declare: “This was written by ChatGPT!”
Here’s the truth:
I am not AI.
I am a human who can write — and that threatens you.
Because deep down, you know your paragraphs collapse under their own weight like an overcooked soufflé.
You know your “professional communication” reads like a Dr. Seuss reject.
And you know that when a Sergeant Major who has spent her life sharpening words walks into the room, your carefully constructed LinkedIn thought-leadership post suddenly looks like a child’s crayon drawing taped to the fridge.
I will not apologize for my training. I will not abandon the tools I was given. I will not write like you.
I will keep using em dashes — because they’re mine.
I will keep writing with precision — because I earned it.
And I will keep laughing at your comments, because honestly, this is the funniest war I’ve fought yet.
You think I’m AI?
Fine.
But remember this:
If I were AI, you still couldn’t outwrite me.
Bless your heart — now run along and wrestle with a spellcheck, sugar.
Diane Stratton
Command Sergeant Major (Retired)
[This is a pseudonym. —ed.]