This post was first published over at Engineers Looking For Stuff, to which I contribute every now and again. I enjoyed writing this one so much, and it’s so pertinent to the way that I think about engineering, that I asked and received permission to republish it here. They are my words, after all!
Engineers have an often uneasy relationship with words. The common assumption is that if left to our own devices we'll mangle grammar, butcher words and generally leave a trail of linguistic destruction in our wake. This is largely unfair, as stereotypes tend to be, but we are rightly better known for our smithing of iron than of prose. If we think about language at all, it's usually in the sense of grudgingly having to cope with it, or even wishing it away: "we shouldn't bother too much about writing - it's the product that counts."
It’s true that product reaching customers is the goal of all our efforts, but words play such a large part in helping us get there that it would be a shame to scurry away from them, as if they were rain and we had no umbrella.
Instead, we should embrace words, using this rain like farmers rather than bankers - because we use them a lot. In our concept proposals, our offers, our specifications, our emails, our reports and even on our drawings, words carry meaning and intent to others. And, usually, these documents have our names on them, thus tagging us as author for eternity. How often does our product do that? (The makers among you rightly have permission to feel smug at this instance - but that still doesn’t exempt you from having to use words!).
So pride in a job well done, in the knowledge that good communication leads to good product, should drive a conscious decision to get our writing up to as good a standard as we can - which, of course, means work.
Whether I’m drafting a blog post or a test report, I often feel my mind racing a few words ahead of me, sifting through multiple cascades of options and meaning, every so often stamping on the brakes as I get stuck with a word that hovers on the tip of my (mental) tongue. Even after that flurry of activity, what I “splash” onto the page needs refining, to ensure that it makes sense and - in deference to the reader - gets to the point relatively quickly and painlessly.
This is what I mean by effort, and the onus of that effort should be on the writer. We have to communicate, and, no matter how good we are at sketching and drafting, we can’t escape having to deliver words to others. These words carry meaning and other more subtle levels of meaning: the tone.
All of us write differently depending on the scenario. So, whereas I use the word shall all the time in specifications, you’ll hardly ever see it in my emails.
Whilst specs and drawing call-outs should be dry and almost legalese, riding as they do on the precise definitions of the words we select, emails can be chattier, depending on your audience. It’s always worth considering your emails to be formal documents, however; they have a history and you’ll be amazed how often emails from six years ago crop up when you or others are searching for information on a project or product. That’s the positive spin on this: there is the negative aspect, that you no doubt can also imagine. So always review before sending (think of that “send” button as “Publish Now” and see what an effect that has on your haste).
The spoken word sets the collaborative tone even more starkly. Face to face there are the immediate signals that everybody sends with voice, body language and participation (or lack thereof) in the discussion, which go beyond the scope of this post, but there are subtle, weasel words that can affect the way people think about their jobs. Indeed, these were the catalyst for this very post.
It was in a project meeting a while ago that I first really noticed them. The product required some pre-assembly of a threaded adaptor and the commercial manager piped up with the comment:
“Then you simply need to screw in the adaptor…”
There it was, that word, “simply.” It suddenly struck me how belittling that word was. To him, that assembly was a value in cents. To us it meant: determining the right tightening torque and number of turns, specifying, trialling and commissioning the equipment, specifying control methods, setting up a PFMEA… You get the idea.
Since that meeting I’ve become very sensitive to “simply,” “only,” “just” and their ilk and always point them out to those to carelessly utter them.
We have to watch out for those words everywhere. Imagine what real meaning lies behind the innocent remark “we only changed the process parameters a little bit…”
We should eliminate “simply” from our vocabulary (and help others to do the same) not in the spirit of saying “everything is hard”, but in the spirit of “we value your expertise, we want you to keep on mastering your work, improving it, and yourself. so that our product can rock even harder than it does now.”
What’s in a word? That much can be in a word.
