Why do I need a user manual to understand some user manuals?
User manuals are supposed to make things clear. In reality, they’re often a source of frustration. The simple reason behind this? A shortage of people with the skills to write instructions well.
On the one hand, there are books that change the world – think Homer’s Odyssey, the collected works of Shakespeare and the like. On the other, there are user manuals. If you’ve ever tried to set up, say, a router, you’ll have read a sentence like this one: «Connect the device to the network, unless it is already connected, which is indicated by the LED, except for devices without an LED indicator.» As you’re reading the jumble of words for the fifth time, your faith in humanity starts to waver. Sigh. The uncomfortable truth is: people who write instructions like these would be better off doing literally anything else. But that doesn’t stop them.
According to the trade association tekom (website in German), around 4,000 vacancies for technical writer positions go unfilled in Germany each year. There simply aren’t enough qualified professionals available to take these jobs. With this in mind, it’s little wonder that so many user manuals are written by people who’ve trained to do something else entirely: engineers, developers, whoever was free at the time, whoever was too slow to say «no». Their technical abilities may be top-notch, but they’re often disastrous with language.
There are no comparable, reliable figures on this available for Switzerland. Mind you, this is hardly surprising, given that Switzerland tends to import rather than manufacture technical products, including from the EU. User manuals for these products – whether good or bad – are brought in with them.
Source: Anika Schulz
User manual madness ramps up a notch if the product in question comes from Asia. A TV manual originally written in Chinese is often translated multiple times before reaching a German-speaking user, losing a little more of its meaning with every draft. What’s more, rather than being carried out by human translators, the translation work is largely done by AI tools. These often translate technical terms literally instead of conveying their meaning. The result? A set of instructions that nobody can wrap their brain around.
The «as long as no one complains» approach
The thing is, user manuals are a legal requirement. Manufacturers can’t just shirk their responsibilities simply because they don’t have the right staff. In the EU, user manuals are legally required for nearly all technical products, machinery and consumer goods. Manufacturers are obliged to include a set of instructions in the local language, ensuring people like you and me can use the device safely. This rule applies not only to vacuum cleaners and washing machines, but also to software such as Outlook and Photoshop. It’s stipulated in the Product Safety Act (ProdSG) and the Machinery Directive (2006/42/EC). In Switzerland, the substance of the laws is virtually the same; they just have different names: the Federal Act on Product Safety (ProdSA) and the Machinery Regulation (MaschV) (linked websites in German).
In other words, user manuals protect product manufacturers from legal action. Manufacturers are liable for personal injury or property damage resulting from an inaccurate user manual – regardless of whether they’re aware of the error or not. If you burn yourself on your coffee maker because the manual didn’t tell you the brewing unit would get hot, it could be a costly affair for Nespresso or Krups. By pointing out risks like this, the manufacturer reduces its legal exposure.
Incidentally, that’s why some user manuals seem to be written for the DAU, the «dumbest assumable user». It’s why they feature pearls of wisdom such as «Do not use hair dryer in the bathtub or shower», «This gas barbecue is for outdoor use only» or «Keep laundry detergent out of reach of children». Thanks for that, Captain Obvious! But how does this tendency to dumb things down square with barely intelligible translations? Your guess is as good as mine.
Source: Shutterstock
So, doesn’t this mean user manuals should be written with extra care? In theory, yes. You see, this is where things come full circle. There are too few qualified technical writers. Too few people trained to write manuals that are both understandable and maybe even verging on enjoyable to read.
Technical writer training: from interdisciplinary to bone dry
Getting into the field of technical writing really isn’t that complicated – it’s just wildly unappealing.
I know what I’m talking about. After all, I studied drumroll Technical Writing and Communication in Munich. And graduated with a Bachelor of Engineering. It. Was. Crazy.
The first three semesters were hardcore mechanical engineering – maths, physics, mechanics, metrology and control engineering – and I understand why. Technical writers need to understand what they’re writing about. Even so, it was enough to convince some of my fellow students – who thought they were studying «something to do with writing and a bit of design» – to drop out. At the same time, the university put us through the wringer with dry programming fundamentals, outdated content management systems and all sorts of other incredibly dull subjects that, thankfully, I’ve long since forgotten.
About halfway through my degree, things finally got interesting, as we had the chance to put our theoretical knowledge into practice. We’d grapple with questions like: how can I explain complex technical concepts in a way that anyone could understand? How do I make good instructional videos? What’s a typical workday in the technical documentation department at BMW or Miele like?
Source: Anika Schulz, Munich University of Applied Sciences
In Germany, the traditional path to becoming a technical writer often involves earning a university degree. That being said, I met a lot of people at Munich University of Applied Sciences who’d already trained as something entirely different. In fact, one of my friends was a pastry chef. Technical writers in Switzerland take a different route. Instead of an undergraduate degree programme, would-be technical writers can do a federal vocational examination to become a «technical writer with a professional bachelor». This is a part-time qualification done in tandem with paid work, offered by providers such as Tecom Schweiz or TKSM in Zurich (websites in German). To be accepted onto the course, you need to have completed an apprenticeship and have at least two years of professional experience.
Not exactly a dream job
Back to Munich University of Applied Sciences. About a third of my classmates managed to stick out the course for the full seven semesters and went on to graduate. Half of those students then chose to pursue a graduate programme. In the end, out of the roughly 99 students who started the course, about 15 actually ended up working in the profession. I wasn’t one of them. Although I enjoyed my degree, especially towards the end, it also taught me there are more exciting activities out there than writing mind-numbingly boring instruction booklets. Including making videos, managing projects and leading teams. Activities involving liveliness, variety and, as cliché as it sounds, people.
Another thing that makes the job unappealing is that many companies can’t afford their own technical documentation department, instead choosing to invest their money in product development. That’s simply what’s easier to scale. So instead of doing their technical writing in-house, they outsource it to service providers who pay their employees less as a result.
When all’s said and done, your struggles with user manuals are no coincidence. There’s a system creating them. After all, who would want to go through what feels like half a mechanical engineering degree, just to write manuals that hardly anyone reads anyway? As long as companies choose to invest in products instead of the people who explain how to use them, you’ll continue having to read the same sentence five times to understand it.
In the meantime, good luck with your router!
As a child, I was socialised with Mario Kart on SNES before ending up in journalism after graduating from high school. As a team leader at Galaxus, I'm responsible for news. I'm also a trekkie and an engineer.
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