A Brief Work-Related Interlude

16 June 2010 5 Comments

Imagine that you have been told to write a user guide on how to use a vending machine.

You sit down and you provide some background information on what vending machines are, why they are useful, and the sort of business need they fulfill for the company. Then you explain about coins, how to tell a quarter from a nickel, and how to find out how much money is available to put in the vending machine.

Then you explain how to find the item you want to buy and its cost, how to put the money in the machine, and how to make your selection. You even explain how to get your product out of the machine.

It’s a good user guide. It’s not going to take the world by storm, but it does its job.

The vending machine goes out into the world, and your user guide goes with it.

From previous experience, you know that 50% of users will not even think about reading the user guide, but it’s ok because they’re mostly intelligent and will figure things out eventually, possibly after inserting a coin or two into the electric socket just to see what happens. 25% of the users will not read the user guide and will need help, but they’ll ask their friends. This will lead to some isolated incidents where people try to use Canadian quarters because Bob said they could, but a couple rounds of stern memos from upper management will sort that out. None of this is your fault: these scenarios are all covered in the user guide they didn’t read.

10% of users will print out the user guide and place it on their desk. They aren’t going to read it, but upper management might be watching. They are keen, these users. Visibly keen.

Another 10% of users will be seen to pass by the vending machine on a regular basis. They’ll even be seen to stare at it thoughtfully, as if considering a purchase. They don’t actually intend to use the vending machine, because there’s a rain barrel right outside the back door that was good enough for their grandfathers and so it’s good enough for them. They could care less about the user guide. They probably don’t believe in user guides anyway.

4.99% of the users will read the user guide. They will then send in feedbacks that begin with “I read the user guide but…” You cannot help these people. A year from now, they will be sending in feedbacks that say “I hear we have this new machine and it requires… coins? money? I don’t know. I’m confused. I just want a glass of water.”

And at least one user, That Guy, will read the user guide, front to back, and send in a feedback that says, “I read the user guide and it doesn’t explain how I can buy water.”

So you’ll explain about money, and finding and entering your selection, and That Guy will blink slowly and say, “Can you add that to the user guide?”

You’ll say, “You mean, Step 1: Find $1 in coins. Step 2: Insert the coins into the slot marked ‘Coins.’ Step 3: Enter B5 on the alpha-numeric keypad…?”

And That Guy will say, “Yes. But you need to explain all the coin combinations that could make up $1, and then you need to repeat the whole process for diet sodas. And regular sodas. And the fruit juice. And, oh, all of them.”

You can try suggesting a reference table, but it won’t work: That Guy really does want a step-by-step instruction guide for every possible coin permutation for every drink selection.

If That Guy is no one very special in the organization, things may be ok. A carefully worded email to the right manager (“Did you really want us to revise the user guide per That Guy’s request? It will weigh more than the vending machine when we are done, and so will the bill.”) shuts down That Guy fairly quickly.

But sometimes That Guy is the management.

That Guy is the reason some user guides start out: “Arrive at work using your normal mode of transportation, or, if your normal mode of transportation is unavailable, a suitable and safe alternative transportation method. If you have not been hired yet, see Human Resources to inquire as to the status of your application. If you have been hired…”

[This episode of Life’s Mysteries Explained brought to you by the number 6,842, or the number of pages in the theoretical vending machine manual requested by That Guy today. Thankfully, Upper Management interceded and my sanity—and several rainforests—have been preserved.]

Inane and Mundane

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