All language acts could conceivably be construed as a complaint or plea to action. For instance, my father says, in surprise "It's still flushing?!" upon learning of the toilet's disrepair. He does not act for a few moments, then goes to it. Those moments could be called hesitation, they could be called waiting, or there may be no mental intent there at all.
But the whole scenario reminds me of my insight to autism (with which I was born). Autism is like a kind of oppression, I wrote in a brief treatise. (It's around here somewhere...). Just as someone can be oppressed by a question - viz. the initial scenes of The Hunger Games, with the farcical broadcast 'interview' with the contestants - it is oppression to have context imposed on you, essentially. To be asked the question (of, e.g., an entire moment's worth of emotion constrained to a grunt), is to be demeaned with this dangling shrivel of dignity, meant to disorient; and the only hope of someone in such a lopsided or absurd precarium (or prevarication, I should say) is to seize on the fact of being asked. "Take nothing at face value," and seize the viewers over to your own cause with comments like "It is a privilege to be asked to opine on [that], Reputable Interviewer," or such and such. Take the line and run. Maybe you'll be hooked. Or maybe you swim away with a fishing rod.
Folks already know this, especially choice sexual partners, for whom the distraction of the options presented is literally their sieve to sort out the callers slow on the uptake. But on the other hand, it is a talent more rare than desirable.
The distilled beauty of this trait - to dispose the question (dis-POSE) - is found in satire. This beauty is worn like a sweet perfume by those satirists who even let their satire be discovered through reason rather than self-label.
In all, the result of the interaction gets to decide the meaning if none of the actors take it to be something. If I react to the comment, my father learns those words mean that outcome (perhaps not in one go; it is to accustom to it). If he believed those words meant "take this problem off my hands", then the belief that those words are incisive enough is now put to the test, by my body, which may or may not be composed so as to respond that way. Being autistic is like being the perfect brat: drawing out of a talker and professor the literality of their words, and highlighting, effortlessly, the difference between intention and force.
And it's a worthwhile thing to do, I believe 100%. Autism brings back to mind what are merely habits of speech that don't mean anything. And that is why it is not an illness, in my view. Not at all.
I can't help but think Language may largely arise in that way. Vocalizations can oftentimes be unconscious, or not deliberate, that is. It's a matter of how words are taken.