"In the dark"
Some years ago the software company I used to
work for was looking for a couple more technical writers. Since I'd
been in the department longest, I was asked to participate in the first
round of interviews. At my first interview the candidate spent a lot of
time talking about reading feature specifications and such, so I asked
her what she would do if the specs were incomplete, or the information
otherwise not available. What I expected her to say was something about
trying to get hold of the software to try to figure out how it operated
for herself. Instead, she talked about going to the boss of the
engineer who "owed" her the information, and if that didn't work,
telling her own boss that since the information wasn't being provided,
the document would not be done. Period.
I was flabbergasted. I asked a couple of
leading questions, trying to nudge her into the direction of attempting
to figure out the information for herself. She held firm: the only way
to write a manual, she said, was to read a well-written specification.
I asked how she handled new software tools---if she had to learn to use
a new word processor or page layout program, how would she go about it?
She said that she would expect the company to send her to a class if
they wanted her to use a new software tool.
In other words, the idea of trying to figure
out how something worked on her own was completely alien to her. Which
stunned me even further. How could someone with that attitude possibly
think that pursuing a career of explaining things to other people was a
good idea?
Unfortunately, I soon learned it was hardly a
rare trait. About half the people we interviewed for those jobs had
that mindset.
I understand that not everyone is a geek. Not
everyone spent half their childhood taking apart everything from clocks
to doorknobs to lawnmowers to figure out how they worked. And even
fewer could be relatively confident of having the device in question
work properly once they put it back together again. I recognize that it
takes an unusual combination of curiousity, confidence, and
comprehension to succeed at that sort of thing. But if you don't like
figuring out how something works, how can you possibly enjoy explaining
how things work to other people?
I shouldn't be surprised when I run into
similar incongruities---people who hate dancing trying to be DJs, or
someone who loathes people less intelligent than themselves going into
teaching---but I am astounded again and again.
Of course, one time when I was ranting about
this to someone, they asked me why, since I rarely read manuals, I was
in the business of writing them. Which I suppose is a fair question,
except it's not the same sort of incongruity. It's not that I don't
like reading, quite the opposite. And I greatly appreciate it when a
set of instructions I receive with something is well-written and easy
to use. I'll refer to the manual if it isn't clear how to get things
going or if I need details of complicated features.
It's like the difference between an
accomplished artist and someone who just does paint-by-numbers. That
fact that the artist doesn't want to do paint-by-number doesn't prove
that he isn't capable of showing someone else how to paint. Which
brings us back to my original point: a person who is incapable of or
unwilling to try to paint on a blank canvas shouldn't be teaching
advanced art classes.
Which isn't to say that only someone who
always starts with a blank canvas should be allowed to teach. However,
the paint-by-numbers guy shouldn't be surprised when other people would
rather take lessons from someone else, they
aren't being unfair or mean---they are simply exercising good judgement.
If you don't believe me, ask yourself the
following question. If you want to see, which is going to work better,
figuring out how to make a lamp or a candle, or waiting around in the
dark, hoping a lamp will come to you of its own accord?
--Oscar Wilde
.