I was on a random call, pitching an idea, confidently sprinkling what I thought were simple, everyday words just with a little Gen Z seasoning. Nothing too wild, you know, a casual low-key solid, maybe a ‘that’s giving strategy,’ or a polite ‘we could finesse this.’ Normal, right? I mean, when you read these things, they make sense. right?
On the other end of the line, my colleague hit me with the dreaded triple shot: ‘Pardon? ‘Pardon?..’Pardon?’ Three in a row, like a DJ scratch. At that point, I was convinced my Wi-Fi had been hijacked by village witches, or my accent had turned mid-sentence. It happens sometimes ever since I watched Peaky Blinders, my tongue occasionally decides to relocate to Birmingham, pit some worra.
Panicked, I left the call, phoned my G to confirm the network, only to find my voice was crystal clear. My bars were full, no buffering. Meaning the problem was not Nabanja’s network. The problem was translation. When I rejoined, I realised the colleague was not hard of hearing, no. They just did not understand my English, which they kept dismissing as Gen Z slang. To me, this idea is giving means the idea is brilliant. To them, it sounded like I was distributing handouts. When I said, we can vibe with this, I meant align. They thought I was organising karaoke night.
That is when it hit me; the workplace is not just divided by job titles. It is divided by generations. A corporate Tower of Babel. CEOs are usually Gen X or Baby Boomers, fluent in ancient tongues languages of KPIs, synergies, strategic pivots, and long-winded PowerPoints that end with actionables no one will action.
Middle managers? Mostly Millennials, who speak a hybrid, half corporate jargon, half WhatsApp group chat. They are comfortable with emojis in Slack, but still hope nobody notices the GIFs hidden in their emails. Then there’s Gen Z, the newest employees speaking in TikTok captions, Snap sounds, meme references, and slang that sounds like puzzles from a Kampala escape room. Same English, different planets.
So maybe my editor was right; we need a dictionary. Boomers searching for the mute button, Millennials still touching base, and Gen Z waiting for everyone to just catch vibes. Uganda already has 65 tribes and 40 languages, did we really need corporate English tribalism too?
Its giving or not giving , ate
Take the phrase ‘It’s giving.’
For Gen Z, this is the ultimate compliment. If a young colleague says, ‘Your pitch is giving world class, and your presentation ate,’ what they really mean is it is fresh, relevant, and impressive. And when they say ‘ate,’ it is not about food you have just delivered a 15/10 performance. Positive feedback, yes, but wrapped in a meme-coded package that needs subtitles.
The other day, we were deliberating on artwork in the Teams chat group. The designer posted his draft, and my comment was short: ‘Bro, it’s not giving!’ Being my peer, he understood and shot back: ‘What more spice can I add to make it cook?’ Perfect. Then, of course, our boss entered the chat. Lost in translation, he warned us to take our personal jazz out of the work thread. Poor lady thought we were actually debating recipes.
Imagine this , an intern presenting a campaign at a hotel, confidently declaring, ‘This campaign is giving Serena Hotel energy. Or imagine someone saying, ‘That rebrand is giving Full-Figure.’ They mean bold, flashy, maybe even too much. Without cultural context, though, older managers just nod, secretly planning to Google ‘Full-Figure’ after the meeting. This is where the corporate comedy sets in.
To Gen Z, ‘it’s giving’ is like corporate jazz vibes, mood, essence. To Boomers and Gen X, it sounds like handouts, food drives, or NGOs. Millennials? They are stuck in the middle, pretending to understand both while secretly checking Urban Dictionary on the side.
Highkey and lowkey
Then there is ‘lowkey’ and ‘highkey.’ These are Gen Z’s favourite modifiers for subtlety or emphasis. A young colleague might confess, ‘I lowkey think this project is going to flop,’ which simply means they have a quiet concern but are not ready to die on that hill. Flip it, and you get ‘I highkey love the new client proposal,’ meaning they are openly enthusiastic and do not care who hears it.
Translated into corporate: lowkey = ‘I’m informally concerned.’ Highkey = ‘I’m overtly excited.’ But let us be honest, the corporate jargon does not slap the same.
In Uganda’s office life, the applications are endless. For the record, all Gen Zs lowkey hate meetings especially the ones without per diem. Like, can’t you just text your concerns?
Meanwhile, colleagues from earlier generations are highkey obsessed with meetings, the kind where a simple email could have done the job, but now you are trapped at a hotel with lukewarm tea and dry mandazi. When the HR calls for a two-hour wellness session but the Gen Z intern just lowkey just came for the soda and chapati.
Or a manager announces new uniforms, and someone mutters, We highkey look like a choir about to back up Bebe Cool. Even in strategy sessions, the contrast shows. A Millennial will say, We should consider risks cautiously. Gen Z?- I lowkey think this campaign will backfire. A Boomer will say, unsatisfactory proposal.
Gen Z? I highkey feel it . Same message, different wrapping.
Cap , No Cap
‘Cap’ and ‘no cap’ are where the generational gap fully shows itself. For Gen Z, no cap simply means truth or fact, while cap signals exaggeration or outright lies. So when a young colleague says, ‘I can finish this report by tomorrow, no cap,’ they are not being dramatic.
They’re with cap. Promises of salary increments? Cap. Assurances that this financial year we will prioritise staff welfare?
Cap on cap. You start to wonder why HR does not just issue helmets since we are drowning in cap anyway. In everyday office banter, it can get hilarious. That Gen Z intern might whisper to the CFO , about that budget proposal is full cap, boss, even my village SACCOS wouldn’t buy it. Or when IT swears, We will resolve the Wi-Fi today no cap, everyone side-eyes because, let’s be honest, that’s high cap.
Touch some grass
Work-life balance has its own slang, and Gen Z delivers it with touch grass. At first, managers hear this and think we have joined some new agricultural cooperative. But really, it is simple advice; step away from the screen, breathe, and reconnect with reality. Older generations would call it take a break or recharge. Gen Z? Boss, touch grass. Many managers never take leave. They wear exhaustion as a badge of honour. In my 20 years here, I have never gone on annual leave. My brother, that is not inspiration that is an HR crime report.
The unspoken assumption is that we, too, should chain ourselves to the office. But sorry, we didn’t come to suffer. We came to work smart, get paid, and live to do a vibe check on the newest spot in Jinja on a random weekend. When a colleague says, you need to touch grass, they are not telling you to run laps around Kololo. They are reminding you that life exists beyond Microsoft Teams and endless boardrooms. The company does not need martyrs; it needs people alive. Because, honestly, if you collapse at your desk, HR will post ‘Gone too soon’ on WhatsApp and immediately start advertising your position. No cap.
Main character energy
Every office has that one person who walks in like the whole building is their stage. That is what Gen Z calls main character energy. It is not arrogance at least, not always. It is the confidence, presence, and leadership vibe that makes you feel like the meeting was scheduled around you, even if you are just here to give a two-minute update on stationery procurement.
In corporate terms, it us called executive presence. But let us be honest executive presence doesn’t quite capture the flair of someone entering a boardroom with TED Talk hand gestures and PowerPoint slides that transition like a Netflix trailer. That as main character energy. Our offices are full of them.
The manager who takes a sip of bottled water before making a point, as if they are about to drop the national budget. The intern who greets everyone with Good morning, team! as if they own the Wi-Fi. The colleague who dominates the Zoom screen, unmuted or not.Some take it too far; they mistake main character energy for Kardashian energy, turning every staff meeting into a personal reality show. Others master it perfectly, balancing confidence with results, so the team actually benefits from their spotlight.
Vibe check
Vibe check might sound like a nightclub ritual, but in Gen Z office culture, it’s a quick scan of team morale or energy. No long reports, no surveys, no HR workshops just reading the room. In a traditional office, managers rely on formal tools: performance reviews, one-on-one check-ins, or those dreaded employee engagement surveys that nobody fills honestly.
Gen Z cuts through the bureaucracy with a simple: ‘Vibe check, are we good?’ In Uganda’s workplace, this could happen mid-meeting. A colleague pauses the PowerPoint to whisper, Kamanda, the vibes are low. Translation; everyone is tired, hungry, and praying for samosas. Or when deadlines pile up, an intern drops ‘The vibes are stressing,’ which is basically a mental health SOS. It may sound casual, but a vibe check often catches what spreadsheets can’t: team burnout, low morale, or that one colleague plotting to resign silently.
Fam, Delulu, Flex, and Rizz in the Office
Take ‘fam.’ This is not about blood relatives it’s a casual, inclusive way of saying team. A young colleague might write on Slack, ‘Fam, we’ve got this deadline,’ which sounds warmer than the classic, ‘Dear all, kindly note.’ . Then there is ‘delulu.’ Short for delusional, it is perfect for those unrealistic expectations we all know too well. Like when management says, ‘This year, profits will triple without increasing the budget.’ Gen Z shrugs that is sheer delulu.
‘Flex’ is another favourite. It is showing off achievements, skills, or perks. Someone casually saying, I was in Nairobi last week for a client meeting, is not just updating you they are flexing.
In older speak; highlighting achievements.
And finally, ‘rizz.’ Short for charisma, it is all about persuasive charm and people skills. That colleague who convinces the client to sign despite shaky numbers?
High rizz. In traditional corporate language, these qualities already exist team spirit, overconfidence, showcasing results, and interpersonal influence. But Gen Z, as usual, delivers them with vibes, memes, and just enough sarcasm to keep the office awake.