This past Saturday I walked into a Taco Bell for possibly the first time in my life. (Don’t tell my doctor.) Such mainstream places are not ones I venture into often, but when I do, I usually return consumed with thoughts of what I noticed while I was there. Filled with first impressions, this hyper-awareness isn’t always easy, but when taken in the right light, it can be comical.
I was pleasantly surprised by the quality of the crunchy taco I had ordered. Not bad for $1.19. As I was chewing though, I read the taco’s paper wrapper that touted its ingredients: “100% real beef.”
A short time ago I wrote a post about critics who love to slam an author’s use of adjectives. I was countering their resistance by standing up for the noun modifier. Not this time. I think I would have been better able to blissfully enjoy my bad choice of food had I not been subjected to the word “real?” That was one adjective they should have left out.
Did they mean it was 100% real (as opposed to partly fake) or 100% beef (as opposed to partly chicken or pork)? If the beef was real, what else wasn’t? Who was serving stuff that was 99% or less? And what was in the fake stuff?
Real as an adjective raises doubt at the exact moment it is meant to build trust. For example, if someone said to you, “This is a real Rolex watch,” wouldn’t you wonder a bit? Why wouldn’t they just say, “This is a Rolex watch” and leave it at that?
Real also tends to indicate surprise, like when someone says, “Are you really going to eat that?”
When my husband uses the word “really,” it’s often an expression of surprise AND frustration.
If I tell him, “I forgot to pay the mortgage last month,”
he will respond, “Really?”
Or if “the sign says the place is closed,”
he might complain, “Really?”
Authentic is another word for real, one that still seems to have held on to some credibility. I suppose it isn’t as overused by advertisers since they tend to steer away from those tedious extra syllables. Whatever the reason, if you really want to express real truthfulness, you have a better shot with authentic, at least for now. Remember when epic used to mean unusually great?
As I chewed, happy to know my beef was real, uncertain about the lettuce, cheese, and taco shell, I crumpled up the paper in preparation to leave the rushing mainstream waters and return to a place where I make my own tacos. When I do, I always use really real ingredients. Honest.
- To get to this blog’s home page, click the Back to Basics heading at the top.
- To share this or any post, click the headline, copy the URL, and paste it into an email.
- To learn more about the author or signup for her mailing list, visit her Website.