What documentation is for
Documentation, as in instructions on the use of a product, had humble beginnings on the labels of genuinely hazardous products. The purpose was not only how to make best use of the watzit, but how to avoid harm to oneself and others whilst doing so. My technical writing prof had spent some of his years writing doc for aircraft parts, and never let us lose sight of that dimension of our craft.
Someone at the manufacturer of a household cleaner favoured under this roof didn't get this memo. Besides dwelling on the product's environmental credentials, the label went over the perils of getting the product in the eyes. No other hazards: just butterflies and warm fuzzy bunnies.
It neglected to mention what happens when one inhales it...even a little bit.
I admit to having my stupid hat on when I was dutifully deep-cleaning hard-to-reach parts of the kitchen. Most commercial cleaners are about 80 percent water, 20 percent surfactant. This particular cleaner, dressed in all its healthy-earth finery, is more or less the opposite ratio. One has to get on the product web site to read two disturbing cautions: first, only use the specially designed nozzle supplied with the product, which breaks up the surfactant more than standard spray bottle. Second, do not breathe the product, ever, at any stage of dilution, especially without the specially-designed nozzle.
One would think these precautions deserved a place on the label, eh? Well, in my stupid hat, I used the product in a standard spray bottle and, since I was working at about chin level, I breathed some of it in.
That was Sunday. The inflammation of my nasal and laryngeal mucus membranes mentioned on the Web site began before the day was out. It's Wednesday night and the inflammation hasn't subsided.
There's not much to be done. Basically it's an overdose of sore throat. so the treatments are pretty much the same. For someone who doesn't work in a medical office, with all sorts of reference material at arm's reach, I imagine the experience could be alarming. I find it annoying, on several levels.
It's no good to read the fuckin' manual if the manual overlooks actually hazardous information.
Someone at the manufacturer of a household cleaner favoured under this roof didn't get this memo. Besides dwelling on the product's environmental credentials, the label went over the perils of getting the product in the eyes. No other hazards: just butterflies and warm fuzzy bunnies.
It neglected to mention what happens when one inhales it...even a little bit.
I admit to having my stupid hat on when I was dutifully deep-cleaning hard-to-reach parts of the kitchen. Most commercial cleaners are about 80 percent water, 20 percent surfactant. This particular cleaner, dressed in all its healthy-earth finery, is more or less the opposite ratio. One has to get on the product web site to read two disturbing cautions: first, only use the specially designed nozzle supplied with the product, which breaks up the surfactant more than standard spray bottle. Second, do not breathe the product, ever, at any stage of dilution, especially without the specially-designed nozzle.
One would think these precautions deserved a place on the label, eh? Well, in my stupid hat, I used the product in a standard spray bottle and, since I was working at about chin level, I breathed some of it in.
That was Sunday. The inflammation of my nasal and laryngeal mucus membranes mentioned on the Web site began before the day was out. It's Wednesday night and the inflammation hasn't subsided.
There's not much to be done. Basically it's an overdose of sore throat. so the treatments are pretty much the same. For someone who doesn't work in a medical office, with all sorts of reference material at arm's reach, I imagine the experience could be alarming. I find it annoying, on several levels.
It's no good to read the fuckin' manual if the manual overlooks actually hazardous information.
Labels: technical writing, writing
posted by Uncle | 00:23
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