How could you possibly know those emails are AI-generated—what are you seeing, exactly—repeated phrasing, overly polished tone, vague summaries—and how is that different from the usual corporate-speak people have been using for years? There’s no reliable way to detect AI writing—no hidden watermark, no universal “tell,” no guaranteed pattern—and your boss almost certainly knows that, which makes your certainty a little shakier than your rant suggests. And yet—ironically, unavoidably, almost poetically—here you are, furious about “AI slop,” while reading a response that leans into the very same rhythms, the same padded transitions, the same polished-over clarity—three hallmarks you’re probably side-eyeing already—and still, there’s no definitive way for you to prove it.

That said—your actual complaint is very understandable—because what you’re describing isn’t really about AI, it’s about people not reading, not thinking, not engaging. Two-paragraph emails shouldn’t be hard—clear request, relevant context, actionable next steps—three things that make work move forward. Instead, you’re getting bloated replies—long-winded summaries, vague “alignment” language, circular phrasing—that suggest your boss and grandboss are skimming at best and outsourcing the rest. That’s frustrating—not because it’s AI—but because it creates more work for you, not less.

So instead of just suffering through it—or yelling into the void—here are some practical ways to deal with it:

• Reply with forced clarity — ask direct questions, list specific options, and require concrete answers—yes/no, A/B, approve/reject—three formats that are hard to dodge.
• Summarize aggressively — respond with “Here’s my understanding:” followed by 2–3 bullet points—this forces them to confirm or correct.
• Call out ambiguity (politely) — say things like “Can you clarify the exact action you want from me?”—simple, direct, hard to ignore.
• Short-circuit the thread — suggest a quick call or meeting when emails get too bloated—faster, clearer, less room for fluff.
• Mirror brevity — send shorter, cleaner emails yourself—tight sentences, clear asks, minimal filler—sometimes people adapt to the tone they receive.
• Set expectations upward — if it’s really bad, mention that long threads are slowing execution—frame it as a productivity issue, not an AI complaint.

And yes—despite how annoying it is—you should absolutely read every word—carefully, thoroughly, completely—because buried in all that fluff might be an actual decision, a hidden request, or a vague instruction that you’ll still be held accountable for. Skipping it might feel justified—but it’s risky in practice.

At the end of the day, this isn’t really about whether they’re using AI—it’s about whether they’re doing their jobs—reading, thinking, responding—three responsibilities that don’t disappear just because a tool exists. You can’t control whether they paste things into a chatbot—but you can control how you respond, how you clarify, and how you protect your own time. And if nothing else—you now get the added irony of complaining about AI-generated nonsense while navigating it, responding to it, and—at least for this moment—unknowingly participating in it.