The Beacon of Common Sense

The quarterly innovation meeting was in full swing, which meant Brenda was in full flight. "Team," she declared, her voice echoing with the gravitas of someone who'd just discovered fire, "I've had a breakthrough! To increase our output, we must... and prepare yourselves for this... *increase our input!*"

A collective silence descended, broken only by the hum of the fluorescent lights. Mark, who usually communicated primarily through eye-rolls, slowly clapped. "Brenda," he drawled, each syllable weighted with the sincerity of a politician's promise, "you've cracked the code! All these years, we've been toiling away, utterly oblivious to the revolutionary concept of *doing more work to achieve more work*. I mean, who would've thought? Truly, your insights are like a beacon in the oppressive fog of common sense."

Brenda beamed, mistaking his tone for genuine admiration. "Precisely, Mark! My next thought is, to complete tasks faster, we should... finish them sooner!"

Mark leaned back, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Remarkable. The sheer audacity of such an idea! One might even call it... logical. I'm sure the Nobel Committee is already drafting your nomination. Perhaps for economics? Or maybe, given your groundbreaking insights into temporal mechanics, a new category entirely: 'The Obvious Sciences'."

The rest of the team shifted uncomfortably, unsure whether to laugh or pretend they were suddenly engrossed in their spreadsheets. One thing was clear: Mark's sarcasm was so dry, it could cure a desert of thirst.