When all else fails, read the flipping manual.
They’re detestable things, but when I grow up I want to be a manual writer.
Bet no one is ever fired from that job. Slap some basic words together, often in no particular order, and add a few unclear illustrations, with numbers and arrows. You don’t even have to know how the thing you’re writing about works. Certainly don’t do a dummy (us, end users) run of your own directions to see if they’re followable.
Dad drummed the manual thing into his family, mostly a “do as I say, not as I do” instruction.
In the late ’70s we joyfully and finally ‒ the last among our friends ‒ acquired a TV. The only person who “got” how it worked was my sister and frequent frustrated, helpless cries of “Jan!” rent the family home as the rest of us begged for her expertise. Don’t know for sure whether she read the manual, but she knew which buttons to push. If she wasn’t home, we watched the test pattern. There was no Prof Google then.
Our “electronics” were the TV and a two-door toaster, which really was ready to plug in and toast. No manual.
Such simple days. We also had power.
It looks so promising when you get a flat package containing what will, you are assured, with the turn of some screws, nuts and bolts as directed in the “easy to assemble” instructions, turn into the amazing picture on the box.
But there’s a category that draws you into the devil’s own deep dark hole: technology.
There’s usually a “quick start” notelet in the box and the manual is in/on your device which you then have to learn to use before you can navigate through it to get help.
A “malfunctioned” dongle reared the manual mutterings. I consulted with our IT department to make sure I ordered the correct replacement dongle and was ready to read the manual, insert and format it the minute it arrived.
Dongles have been around for years but it was an IT thing so I knew nothing about them. Didn’t even know what they looked like. But the item description promised only good, easy things to get connected. Ha!
I happily and unsuspectingly settled down and started following the cheery-sounding quick installation guide. Not so fast, kemosabe. No plug ’n’ play, this thing. Got jammed up on item number 1, and it all went south from there.
Our poor IT people had a tough time trying to help remotely. I spent the hours ahead charging things and trying to work from other devices in the interim. Which raised another problem: for the short time you have power, all your peripheral/back-up work stations have to be charged, meaning about 1 000 plugs and chargers. With individual cables and plugs. Plus a few for the fans and mozzie repellent. It was cable city for a while.
Finally, after a marathon remote session with a patient IT star and communicating on a couple of other devices which could connect to wi-fi, the dongle dongled and I was back from the ether abyss.
The vipers’ nest of cables is halved and the “manual” tossed. Sorry I’m late, boss.
- Lindsay Slogrove is the news editor
The Independent on Saturday