Tags
books, Complexity, consumer products, food, health care, packaging, Simplicity, UX
So, in 2013, I changed from four medical plans to four different medical plans to six plans for 2014. Thank goodness we don’t have a “single payer” system because there is nothing I love more than pouring through a hundred pages of text for each plan which is mainly garbage but occasionally has important information. There is nothing more fun than ping-ponging among doctors every time your plan changes. Oh, wait! I forgot that in addition to the plans I *actually* had, IBM also sent me huge packets of information on plans that were no longer relevant. In the midst of all this, I was heartened to find a concise 72 page document from my dental plan which also informs me: “Please note: if you are a previous user of MyBenefits, you can still enjoy all the same features under the new plan. Simply visit (our website) and re-register with an updated username and password for access to your new plan.” It is the word, “simply” that I object to. Indeed, in some parallel universe, there is probably a time and place for the word “simply” but in has no legitimate place in actual 21st century America. It *invariably* signals this message: “We are going to make this difficult for you. But we don’t want to come out and say that so we will preface our instructions with the word ‘simply’ so when you do have trouble you won’t have anyone to blame but yourself.”
(Why do I need a different userid and password?). Anyway, you know the drill. You go to the website and the first six userids that bear any resemblance to your name are taken. But they don’t typically tell you that till you also enter a password. And, of course, there are the typical “security questions” such as “What sized underwear did you wear in the fourth grade?” “What was your second grade teacher’s maiden name?” “What was the name of the company you bought your first ant farm from?” And so on.
This ironic use of “simply” is not confined to websites. It also applies to packaging as in, “SIMPLY remove the plastic overwrap.” Yeah. But, what if you left your chain saw in the garage? “Simply, tear the plastic along the indicated line.” In the rare case, when it is physically possible to tear, it never tears evenly. More typically it is some semi-metalic plastic that requires an industrial laser cutter. the most recent example involved two different kinds of dry cat food. These were nearly impossible for me to “simply” open. I left the bags for a few minutes to get an exacto knife and when I returned two minutes later, my CATS had indeed simply opened the packages and spread the contents around the hallway. For all I know, they might have actually ingested a piece of cat food but it was clear that their main intent was simply to cause a mess. The reason they could open the packages simply is that they have cat claws! I don’t! Not sure what genius came up with the idea that packages of cat food should be opened simply by cats but not simply by humans.
A variant on the use of industrial grade titanium plastic the requires war-appropriate hardware to open, is the soft, slippery plastic around cheese or ham that actually does open easily under a specific set of conditions. You have to be young. You have to have a strong grip. You have to have fingerprints–mine are gone (because of using too many touch screens?) Most importantly, your hands must be completely dry and free of any trace of any kind of oil.
Luckily, when preparing food, one’s hands never get damp or oily. Not if everything you touch is already pre-packaged in a box or a can. Of course, if you’re foolish enough to use fresh vegetables or fruits, you may be tempted to wash off bacteria and poison. You can do that, but you have to wait at least forty hours before attempting to open a package that requires you to “simply” tear off the tab.
And, while we’re on the subject of tear off tabs, did you ever wonder what kind of a bonus the MBA whiz kid who first mathematically modeled the MRA (Minimally Required Area) for a pull-off tab? I sometimes add a dollop of milk to my coffee and get one of two brands of milk. One has a pull-off tab of aluminum foil that allows me to use my bare hands to tear off the tab (even if they are a bit moist). The second brand sometimes has a plastic tab which is usable. But sometimes, it has a tab of aluminum foil carefully calculated to bear a visual resemblance to a usable tab but which, in fact, is only about 1/20th the surface area required to actually use it. The marketers however, have made it quite clear that I can open it by “simply” pulling the tab. And that is true, provided I use pliers.
Since the word “simply” has simply gone out of fashion in its true meaning, I think we should simply ban its use. Period.
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