Kelli L. Pharo
Lost
Recently, my girlfriends and I took what should have been a six-hour drive to a neighboring state for a weekend of shopping. We arrived in town at 10:00 p.m. armed with directions from an online map search program and our hotel’s address and phone number.
One would have thought that these items would have ensured a timely and direct approach to our destination. We knew where north was, we had a cell phone, and we knew how to navigate our vehicle. But somewhere along the way the system broke down. It was a combination of things really. What should have been the final ten minutes of our journey turned into another hour and a half of aimless wandering.
Our map was moderately helpful. Get on I-75 and head north until the blue highlight line ends, it visually instructed. Once we reached the end of the blue line we decided to call the hotel for instructions on how to get to their location. This is where the major breakdown of the system occurred. What my fellow passengers and I did not know was that the hotel staff was apparently dropped by helicopter at work each morning and retrieved by the same each night, never having actually driven the roads in their immediate vicinity, and therefore, having no knowledge of the roadway system in their community, nor any grasp of the directions north, south, east, west, left, or right.
When we finally reached the hotel, we were ready to find our beds and pass out. I dropped my friends at the front and went to park the car in the garage. I had been instructed by the hotel staff to take the elevator in the parking garage and press the button marked T to find my floor. I parked my vehicle, walked to the open elevator, and found that the only button options were the numbers 1 through 4. Just then some ladies entered the elevator with new information. They had been instructed to press 4 to reach the hotel. So we pressed 4, stepped out of the elevator and into a maze of long, seemingly endless hallways. We immediately formed an alliance and selected what appeared to be a hallway leading to a crosswalk. We had selected correctly and located the hotel. After wandering down another long hallway we found the hotel elevator. I stood confused. Did I want to go up or down? Where was floor T? I pressed both the Up and Down buttons and decided to take whatever arrived first. Up was the winner. Once in the elevator, I discovered that floor T was actually below floor 4. I escaped before the doors closed and waited for a downward ride. I made it safely to floor T and found my room.
The next morning, my friends and I were ready to shop. I could have learned from the previous night’s experience, but chose instead to call the front desk for directions to a local mall. I was once again instructed to turn right, when I really needed to turn left, and stay on a certain road, when in fact I should have exited.
Lessons
What could I have learned from this frustrating experience? Certainly I learned to not ask the hotel staff for directions. But there is more than that.
As a technical communicator, it is my job to give clear and accurate directions, to lead my reader to understand things that I know to be true because I have tested them, and to make sure I have included all the steps in the instructions.
Push the Buttons
I spent most of my professional life before and during college in customer service jobs. The experiences I had in my roles serving customers taught me a lot about being a technical writer, such as, the customer comes first.
The people using my documentation are my customers. I am responsible for putting their needs first, for selecting language they will understand, for putting myself in their shoes and trying out my own instructions, for researching my information for accuracy, and for field testing my document for clarity and usability.
Just as I should not have had to stand in front of the elevator wondering whether floor T was up or down from floor 4, my readers should not have to wonder what to do next because I omitted a step. By the time my readers get my documentation, I should have “ridden the elevator, walked the halls, pushed the buttons.” I should know what hazards lie in their way and how to overcome them.
Repairing the Communication Breakdown
How could the hotel staff have better served me as a customer? Well, on the night that I was driving around lost they could have listened for the needs that I was communicating to them, put themselves in my place, and taken the time to provide accurate information.
As a technical communicator, I need to listen to my customers’ needs. If they need instructions on how to load software, I shouldn’t provide instructions on the benefits they will receive from the software once it’s loaded. I need to put myself in their place. If I had never loaded software before, would I know what it means to download the “read me” file? Perhaps some simple explanations are required. I need to take the time to provide accurate information. Do I know for sure that the steps for loading the software are the same for all platforms? Perhaps I should try loading the software on several different platforms to verify.
Road Trip
Although my road trip experiences were not devastating to my weekend, they were annoying, and I probably would select a different hotel should I visit that city again.
My customers may be frustrated into alternate choices if my instructions fail them. I need to ensure that I make their experience as pleasant as possible so that they will return. Just like a good road trip, good technical writing should be about destinations reached, fulfilling experiences, and good memories. And in my case, a bit of good shopping didn’t hurt.
Member of STC Orlando “Chapter of Distinction,” Kelli works as a full-time technical editor at PBS&J, an engineering and planning firm, in the Aviation Services division. She spends her free time with her husband, Chris, and their three dogs (Gibson the Great Dane, Washaw the German Shepherd, and Zoe the Golden Retriever) and two cats (Sidney and Dusty).
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