The “Con” in Lexicon

You’ve heard it before, and you hear it everyday: language used in the goal to part us from our money (or other things).

“Save the rainforest” and “save the wetlands” gets people to send in money when they really mean “save the jungle” and “save the swamps.” They’re elaborate fundraising schemes—nobody in his or her right mind would pay to save a jungle or swamp, and from what? From someone else turning it into something more useful and profitable, that’s what.

“It’s not a purchase, it’s an investment” really means an investment in the salesman’s future job outlook.

Language, specifically crafted words, really do a number on us—when used effectively, they manipulate us into doing all kinds of things, but mostly part with some money. They soothe us, they conjure us, they try to paint a picture of a better way, or a better life. Utopia is a concept, not an actual place—otherwise we’d all already be there.

Politicians are clever wordsmiths (or at least their speechwriters are). Key words are thought to get votes: “environment”, “veterans”, “farmers”, “unions”, “pro-life”, “death tax”, or even attempting to speak Spanish. Whatever it takes to appeal to certain groups of voters gets loaded into a speech.

Marketers are another class of clever wordsmith: words like “fair trade”, “organic”, “natural”, or “sale”, or “grande triple mochaccino light whip”—all terms meant to appeal to buyers AND separate buyers into classes of susceptibility. Their art is to play on your emotions and render you helpless. None of it is verifiable on the spot, and you don’t know whether or not you really NEED it.

A classic: “a little old lady used to own this car, and she only drove it to church.” Yeah, sure she did—probably doing 70 mph, two states away. No, wait—that was her grandson during the week. Funny how we never hear of the grandson’s use between church visits, or how the car is really a casualty of Hurricane Katrina that got fixed up and auctioned off.

Persuasion is the language of the “con” artist—the lexi-“con” artist. All of it looks and sounds tempting, but none of it is verifiable. This is where detective work in the form of comparison comes in. The amount of detective work done will reveal another class of patron: one who cares about his money.

Case in point: a Starbuck’s menu board—the great separator without a single word spoken. The menu offers hot chocolate, cappuccino, café mocha, white chocolate mocha, and a 20 oz. cappuccino. Translated into “con speak”, this means “plain old hot chocolate”, “plain old cappuccino”, “mix hot chocolate with the cappuccino”, “use different powder for this one”, and “make mine larger.” See how much can be done with just three ingredients and a multitude of prices for each new combination? The customer is taken from $2.20 all the way to $3.40 (D.C. prices) for a beverage he has been thoroughly brainwashed into thinking is somehow special, and he can’t get it anywhere else or make it for himself at home. Even the paper cup has become a status symbol among commuters—it means “I had money and time to stand in line for this.” To me, it means, “I’m an idiot who wouldn’t know good coffee if it bit me on the leg, and Starbuck’s reeled me in good.” A simple transaction speaks volumes about both buyer and seller. Think about this next time you go to a Mexican restaurant—most of the menu items consist of the same handful of ingredients in a manipulated tortilla (either flat, rolled, or folded over). After scanning the menu, you see that all the items start blurring together in the same combination of ingredients served in a different configuration, yet the prices vary wildly for essentially the same item.

Are we the ultimate suckers or what?

A recent advertising campaign really brought the unspoken “con” home: the car ad that had drivers in expensive cars pulled over and shouting through megaphones such sayings as “because my daddy never hugged me”, and “the more men like me, the more I like myself” over and over. The ad dubbed these “ego emissions”, and they were dead on—so much of what people tend to buy are unspoken ego emissions. Anybody who can objectively look at purchases from a consumer standpoint can see this for themselves.

Psychology has gone from helper to enemy in the consumer world. At any time, anybody can make you believe anything—just look at Hitler and Stalin, media in general—television documentaries, the History Channel (which is riddled with inaccuracies, BTW), various activist groups, Lou Dobbs and CNN, invented film critics, inventful journalists like Jason Blair, Fox News, and book authors—any church, any community leader (or perceived leader), any teacher or professor, any ad with testimonials and before-and-after photos, any salesman worth his salt, PhotoShop software, and even bloggers. Anybody with any amount of influence and something to sell, whether it’s merchandise, a service, or an idea, will employ a lexi-“con” to lure you into doing something in their favor—parting with money or mind. There is even a whole science devoted to selling called “marketing”—just ask Donny Deutsch, host of the Big Idea.

Another good source for lexi-“cons” comes from George Carlin, who recently wrote the book, “When Will Jesus Bring the Pork Chops?” In it, he describes how words are twisted and allowed to evolve into emotional events, depending on who the desired recipient is: “inheritance tax” becomes “death tax” and “shellshock” becomes “post-traumatic stress disorder.” These paint-by-number outlooks are engineered to maximize emotional response, especially near election time. Emotions are most needed at the polls and the malls.

Your job, should you choose to accept it, is to separate fact from fiction, and don’t let the fiction bite you in the wallet. Go forth, consumers, and watch out for the lexi-“con” artists. Beware the power of persuasion and the science of selling in all its forms.