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I called my doctor’s office the other day to renew a prescription. During the brief conversation, a young staffer showered me with high praise.
I gave my name.
“Perfect,” she said.
Then my address.
“Perfect,’ she said.
Then my date of birth.
“Perfect.”
When she asked for a call-back number in case we got disconnected—very considerate on her part—I recited my phone number.
“Awesome,” she said.
There it was: three “perfects” and an “awesome”—in less than three minutes.
I received similar praise recently at a restaurant.
“Perfect,” said the waitstaff when I ordered an entrée and house salad.
No “awesome” there, however—maybe because I’d asked for the dressing on the side?
I do appreciate the stellar praise, but it leaves me wondering if certain words—important and valuable words—have lost their meaning.
In what world is simply saying your name “perfect” or ordering a salad “awesome”?
If superlative words like these can mean, essentially, nothing more than “OK, I hear you,” then we’ve entered “Alice in Wonderland” land where, as Humpty Dumpty declares, “When I use a word, it means just what I choose it to mean—neither more nor less.”
Where did this dumbing down of superlatives come from? Maybe an unfortunate consequence of everybody getting participation trophies in school sports? Or is it a cousin to grade inflation so that terms we previously used for acing the SAT or performing flawlessly on one’s driver’s test, now describe merely uttering one’s own name?
I get that it probably sounds curmudgeonly of me even to raise the issue, but I do think it’s helpful for words to have actual meaning, especially important words.
As a teenager back in the ’60s, I’m sure my parents winced when I used terms like “cool,” “far-out,” and “groovy.” (I cringe now to think of it.).
But I don’t see the corruption of those terms in the same category as the misuse and degrading of words like “perfect” and “awesome.” These are words which when properly used can describe the best and most wondrous aspects of human life.
As a writer, I don’t encounter perfect often, especially in my own work. I can’t think of anything I’ve written, ever, that I’d describe as perfect. Every time I read a work in progress—from the first to the 10th draft—I see words, sentences, whole paragraphs that need improvement. They are never perfect. The only essay I can recall off-hand that I’d describe as perfect, or nearly so, is Tim O’Brien’s “The Things They Carried.” Some Biblical phrasing may qualify as perfect: “The race is not always to the swift nor the battle to the strong.” (Ecclesiastes, 9:11). You can probably name your own favorites.
If saying your street address is “perfect,” what do you call the symmetry of a snowflake, or unconditional love from your partner, or the Parthenon?
“Awesome” is a word that sometimes can move us into the realm of the spiritual. One’s first sight of natural wonders like the Grand Canyon or Painted Desert can be awesome. So can the night sky when you’re far enough away from the city. Once I visited Cape Canaveral and saw launch pad 39A—the place from which Apollo missions began and human beings first left Earth to set foot on another heavenly body. That was awesome. The finale of a good fireworks display can also be awesome. So was the birth of my first child, and her first steps.
If reciting one’s phone number is “awesome,” what do you say after a summer rain when you see a brilliant rainbow hanging in the sky?
Words—especially superlatives—offer us important ways to describe our world and our lives. If we can be a bit more careful in how we use them, we can preserve the meaning of these words and use them to describe the most wonderful aspects of life, the things that truly take our breath away.
OK?
Awesome!
Peter Lovenheim is Washington correspondent for the Rochester Beacon. He is author of “In the Neighborhood” and other works. His most recent book, “Gift Shop of Gratitude,” was published in 2024. He can be reached at [email protected].
The Beacon welcomes comments and letters from readers who adhere to our comment policy including use of their full, real name. See “Leave a Reply” below to discuss on this post. Comments of a general nature may be submitted to the Letters page by emailing [email protected].
Get unstuck, unpack your heuristics and give agency to the future.
Language changes, otherwise we’d still be speaking in the words of Chaucer and Shakespeare, and reading Beowulf in the original.
Go with the flow…and as the framers wrote be “more perfect.”
Excellent essay, Peter! Well done! A pleasure to read, and to think upon….
I happen to think many of George Orwell’s essays fit the bill for the descriptor of “perfect”…
The trivialization of so many powerful words in our language to me somehow mirrors the general cheapening of our culture. I must sound old! I fit that descriptor! Sigh…..
Then there are these…Fascist, Socialist (mis-used by both sides), Nazi, and anything-phobic.
“THE BEST IS THE ENEMY OF THE GOOD” (Voltaire)
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A Rabbi once gave me this advice, but he did not elaborate.
This essay renewed my interest in this saying. Perhaps, perfection labels can do us harm, by demanding, the impossible. Trying to be “perfect” and “awesome” can drive us crazy. It can harm relationships.
Yes, we do have computers and other technologies that are very exacting, but people are still people, with flaws. We are not machines. We are not so reliable. We are not so honest, or intelligent. And these challenges make us human. Thank you, Peter, for a wonderful reminder.
Like awesome letter. Totally perfect.
Groovy Pete!
I think you read my mind. Awesome drives me nuts. The Grand Canyon (and other examples noted in the article are awesome). My dinner order is not. (Nor is it perfect.)
We have a president who adds superlatives ahead of almost every word he utters. He is always in marketing mode. He prevaricates just as frequently. So, it’s no wonder that some people have adopted a similar pattern of speech. As far as your experience goes, I wonder if the young people you are speaking with are speaking to themselves, sort of subconsciously congratulating themselves for ticking off the required boxes to complete their job function. I frequently wonder what is being taught and what is retained by students these days. Not just when it comes to communicating, but their comprehension of civics, social cues, science, history, and actual face-to-face interaction. Of course, as always, I am not implying that all young people share these attributes; however, a large enough sample of these behaviors might be statistically significant.
« Gotcha », « OK » « Is that right? » « Uh-huh »….theres no end to the lack of empathy and sincerity. The only thing worse is when, faced with those of us of a certain age, they add « honey » or « sweetie »!!!!
Simply, well said and nicely put.
These reflections on the casual use of these words are so spot on! Thanks for sharing these sentiments! The overuse of these superlatives seems to be an extension of the “self esteem movement” whereby we feel it necessary to butter up others/ourselves to be assured we are OK, due to our fragile egos. The modern resistance in our culture to recognize that we are imperfect, that we need to work for improvement, and to accept criticism is very concerning and can be seen in our politicians.
Love this article! My peeve is “no problem” instead of “you’re welcome.”
Dear Peter
Thank you for this reflection on words and their meaning. I noted your use of “awesome” in describing one’s reactions to the beauty we find in nature. I am a fan of David Abram’s reflections on human language [The Spell of the Sensuous, in particular] and the bodily experience of meaning that we may experience in those “awesome” places – or in other circumstances-that cannot be captured by language conventions. Even the “best” use of our language conventions creates a separation between us and these kinds of communication experiences.
I agree that “perfect” is overused. However, I suspect that the pharmacy representative used that word in response to your address and date of birth because they matched the info she saw on her screen. “Perfect” was her response to the fact that they matched.