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And here’s another one. How many times have you looked at a catalogue only to find that crucial information you should keep (like contact details for ordering, delivery information etc) is placed either on
order form itself or on back of page order form is on?
The result is when you mail off your completed order form you’re obliged to mail that important information away with it. Stupid, huh.
There is no mystery about creating good catalogues – only common sense. It’s perfectly okay in my view to keep your writing crisp and concise because it helps to use space more efficiently. But whatever you do, never lose sight of fact that way a catalogue is written and designed says a lot more about your organization than you think. If it is cluttered, unclear and illogical, customers will think your company is too. If it is busy but accessible, clear and easy to understand and logically planned, well – need I say more?
Retailers spend fortunes on design, layout and flow of their instore displays. Supermarkets can increase or decrease their turnover by thousands, simply by moving fresh produce from back wall to side wall or by putting bakery beyond delicatessen or by increasing aisle width by a few centimetres.
Think of your catalogue as a paper-based store or supermarket, and you’ll find it easier to give it consideration and respect it deserves.
Instruction leaflets and manuals
A few years ago I bought a new computer, printer, keyboard and monitor all at same time. I heaved all boxes into my office at home and unpacked each piece enthusiastically. There was metal and plastic and cabling and cardboard and polystyrene and bubble wrap all over floor.
My two dogs picked their way through it, sniffing suspiciously as if all these items were chickens lying dead and headless after a fox attack. I sat cross-legged in middle, leafing anxiously through instruction booklets, desperately trying to find English language pages.
When I did, I couldn’t understand a word, largely because instructions a) had been compiled by technical people who assumed substantial prior knowledge even though it was a “home” computer and b) whoever had written UK version must have been taught English by Donald Duck.
And do you think manufacturer might have supplied a simple instruction sheet telling me how to bolt it all together? No. Every piece had its own awful instructions but as far as manufacturer was concerned, each item was on its own.
So I phoned my dear computer guru Jason and booked him to come over next day and sort it out, despite him telling me it was easy and I could do it myself. “Just read instructions,” he said.
“I can’t understand ****ing instructions,” I shouted back down phone. “You come and do it, I’ll watch what you do, then I’ll write it down and send text to manufacturers with an invoice for my time. At least that way poor so-and-sos who buy this kit in future will find out how to get it working without having a nervous breakdown.”
There’s one very strong point that emerges from this true story. When people read, listen to or watch a set of instructions, they often do it in fairly stressful circumstances, in uncomfortable surroundings, in poor light, etc. Accessibility, simplicity, visibility, and clarity are vital.
People who buy products that require instructions, need to know how to use product as easily as possible. And because many people are technodorks like me, instructions need to be understood by lowest common denominator. Logically then, you might think, best person to write instructions for technodorks like me is someone who knows every last detail about product, how it was made, how it works, what it does, and what its inside leg measurement is. In other words, an expert.
This could not be further from truth.
Instructions should never be written by experts, because they know too much. What this means is that they are very prone to making mistake of assuming reader knows a little bit about subject matter already.
To an expert, fact that before you begin assembling bookcase you need to align sections A, B and C with each other may be so blindingly obvious it’s not even worth mentioning. To someone like me it’s not just worth mentioning, it’s absolutely essential if I’m not to spend next three hours wondering why on earth I can’t find any bolt holes that line up.
Wherever practical, instructions should be written by someone who knows as much as, but no more than, audience. For any form of instructions to be followed by non-technical users, writer should assume zero prior knowledge and best way to ensure s/he does that, is if s/he doesn’t have any prior knowledge her/himself. Provided that writer has a logical mind and ability to write clearly and simply, s/he can’t fail to work out and then write good, usable instructions - because if s/he understands them so will everyone else.
Equally, instructions should not be written by sales people, marketing executives, guys in lab, production staff, or anyone else – even you – if there’s a risk they might have become familiar with subject matter. Familiarity can breed if not contempt, at least wrongful assumptions about audience’s existing knowledge.
For any product to be used by ordinary folks in street, try to get instructions written by someone from a totally unrelated department or even from outside your organization. Failing that, get them tested by one or more typical users who have no prior knowledge of product, and edit them carefully on strength of feedback you get.
There is nothing that will blacken name of your product and your company faster than a customer like me not being able to put your product together easily.
Although customers like me will get over it after taking a cold shower and asking brainy next-door neighbour to interpret instructions, we’ll probably remember all those bad things next time we’re shopping for sort of products you sell. And we’ll buy your competitor’s.
