Litotes and bathos wrapped in a subjunctive mood hidden inside a false indicative: my regular manner of imparting information, either verbally or typed into an email's oblong box.
Delivered verbally, such convoluted sentences can always be chaperoned by a raised eyebrow or a significant glance, always necessary when dealing with the literal-minded, which always seems to be the case; a physical signal that I neither mean what I say nor say what I mean.
As written words, however, these sleight-of-context communications have no warning flags to wave. I suppose I could add one of those 'winking' keyboard emoticons. I am not twelve years old, though, and don't intend to adorn my computer with a plastic Garfield figurine. Consequently my emails are often misunderstood and my message misinterpreted
I could simply type out exactly the meanings I wish to convey, of course, but that's no fun. And, besides, there is no greater professional pleasure than encountering a colleague who is fluent in ambiguity and equivocation; a fellow traveler who has studied obfuscation as a second language.
These are the people I can do business with. After all, the passion for counter-productivity is a productive passion. Per ardua ad astra, as they say.