Synergy does two jobs and we use it for both without embarrassment. The first is the math that makes 1+1>2: Two companies that have nothing in common discover, in the months before the deal closes, that together they are worth considerably more than the sum of their parts.

The second job is smaller but more frequent. Two people from different departments share a spreadsheet. A designer attends a meeting. This also called synergy. The word elevates it into something that sounds planned, resourced, and intentional, which is a considerable improvement on the truth.

The verb form is where both uses converge. Someone has to do the synergizing. That person schedules a kickoff. The kickoff produces a working group. The working group produces a Confluence page that fourteen people have access to and only three have opened. The scale of the original problem is immaterial. The process is the same.

What makes the word durable is that it absorbs almost any outcome. Two colleagues who nodded at each other in a hallway have technically synergized.

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Maximilian ROI has spent thirty years inside organizations large enough to have a Vision Statement and self-aware enough to ignore it. He has run the offsites. He has said synergy in front of a board, with a straight face and a waterfall chart, and meant it.

Today, Max is the Dean of Steerania’s School of Bullshit. He describes this as his pro bono contribution to society. He takes the role completely seriously, which is itself the joke.

The dictionary exists because the language of business is a craft, and like most crafts it is easier to participate in than to explain. Max has decided, at this point in his career, that explanation is the more interesting option. He is not here to expose the system. He helped build it.