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tekom-Jahrestagung 2012 - ActiveDoc

tekom-Jahrestagung 2012 - ActiveDoc

tekom-Jahrestagung 2012 - ActiveDoc

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User Assistance<br />

With technical communication, we can at best hope to guide users towards<br />

appropriate behavior. This may or may not extend their mental<br />

models, it may or may not anchor a meaningful experience to which<br />

they resort later when they face a similar problem.<br />

This has been a rather bleak turn of events. Given the inertia of uncontrollable<br />

mental models, how do we manage to communicate anything?<br />

Addicted to meaning<br />

The answer lies in a second aspect of meaning itself: Yes, meaning depends<br />

on shifting signs, on contextual codes, and on our erstwhile experiences.<br />

But we are also addicted to meaning in the sense that we desire<br />

and hope for a generally meaningful life. This is the motivational force<br />

behind our questions for meaning: “What does it mean for me?” and<br />

“Why should I care?”<br />

This aspect is easy to recognize in “big” questions for the meaning of<br />

life, but it also permeates small everyday tasks – the kind we address in<br />

technical communication. We want to connect the dots, we want to make<br />

sense, even of the software we use, and it frustrates us to the point of<br />

personal insult when we cannot, because the stupid thing simply won’t<br />

work!<br />

Even in less consequential matters than the correct use of appliances<br />

and software, we go to great lengths to discover meaning in the world<br />

– or to create it as what we believe we know. Misheard lyrics of pop<br />

songs are a harmless, fun example. Jimi Hendrix didn’t seem to make a<br />

lot of sense singing in “Purple Haze”: “Excuse me while I kiss the sky.”<br />

Instead, many people heard: “Excuse me while I kiss this guy.” (Look up<br />

“Mondegreen” on Wikipedia for more fun examples.)<br />

Or consider the first well-known version of the Apple logo, the apple<br />

with a bite in it in horizontal colored stripes (see Konnikova). What<br />

does it mean? It’s Adam and Eve in paradise and their quest for knowledge<br />

manifest! Or no: It’s a reference to Isaac Newton sitting beneath<br />

an apple tree and discovering the law of gravity! Or no: It’s a tribute to<br />

Alan Turing, computer science pioneer, who committed suicide by biting<br />

into a cyanide-laced apple! (Turing was gay, hence the rainbow-colored<br />

stripes).<br />

The point is that one explanation after another is as meaningful as any<br />

urban legend can hope to be – but they are all not the meaning that was<br />

originally intended. The truth is a lot more mundane: The apple is the<br />

company’s namesake. The rainbow denotes color in general, because the<br />

Apple II was the first home computer to display color images. And the<br />

bite was added to indicate scale, so people didn’t confuse the fruit with a<br />

cherry. Or so says Rob Janoff, the logo’s designer (see Creativebits.org).<br />

So we are addicted to meaning. We seek to connect the dots in any plausible<br />

way to come up with a meaning and a solution. But when things<br />

get weird, technical communication often fail to deliver a satisfying answer.<br />

Our formulation of the problem doesn’t match any of the answers<br />

which the manual provides.<br />

Then we turn away from the manual – but our quest for meaning is<br />

not finished yet. We tap other resources: We ask a friend who may not<br />

have the answer, either. But compared to the documentation, a friend is<br />

<strong>tekom</strong>-<strong>Jahrestagung</strong> <strong>2012</strong><br />

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