The most recent time I was considering and being considered for a new technical writing position, I got a surprise. One of the managers mentioned my recent posting on this blog, Technical writers are not helicopters.

That was the first indication I had had that anyone ever read any of this blog.

Even in the smartphone age, writing is still like dropping a stone in a well and waiting to hear the splash. In fact, writing into the void has become more prevalent, at least in terms of the number of people “publishing.”

It’s making me rethink whether I should point out examples of poor technical communication that I encounter in my daily life. Unsolicited advice usually isn’t heeded for the simple reasons that (A) everyone has an opinion and (B) even with expert advice, timing matters. If I made it clear that fixing sub-optimal communication is my profession…? Nah.

This morning, I was seated in a waiting area where the equipment in operation was vulnerable to interference from the signals used by mobile phones. So they had a small, tasteful sign on the wall to inform everyone to keep their mobile phones switched off.

In fact, the sign was too small and too tasteful to be noticed. The problem was amplified by the fact there were three other signs of identical size on the same wall. If that had been the only problem, I might not have been tempted to say anything. Even though the signs had been hung near eye level for a standing adult, and it was an area filled with chairs, so eye level for a seated adult might have been better.

The problem was ratcheted up another notch by the presence of a final sign, larger and more colourful than the others, and placed at eye level for someone who was sitting to boot. In large, legible letters, it bore the brief message “Like us on Facebook.”

Which message would have most people reaching for their mobile phones.

But this was not my workplace. Accordingly, I didn’t even ask a staff member, however tentatively, if they had problems with compliance with phone use. Instead, I directed my attention to a low-tech object called a book.

And the author of that book was long dead, so he never heard the splash of the stone hit the water. But I, at least, still felt the ripple.