I have big
flapping ears. I am, in common parlance, a nosy bugger. I make a point of
listening in on the conversations of people I pass in the street or
supermarket, in fact, anywhere I go. I’m not being nasty nosy you understand. It
is, I assure you, rubber-necking with purpose. You see I’m fascinated by the
way people give directions or instructions and I’m equally fascinated by the
way people accept, absorb or disregard them.
Who hasn’t
given or asked for directions at some point? This year, by dent of the Olympics
and Paralympics, seemingly everyone in London became an unofficial tourist
guide and information bureau. And one wonders how much damage the ramblings and
misdirection of the average Bert or Hilda did to our national brand. Because
the truth is that most are total rubbish when it comes to this kind of stuff...laughably so. For example; I once heard someone ask for directions to Hampton
Court maze and saw the person they asked point to the ivy-clad bunkers at the
top of Horseguard’s Parade.
‘Err’…up
there a bit and on the right’ means absolutely nothing to most, let alone to a
stranger to the city and yet vagaries such as this seem to the norm. If asked the
way to ‘x’ the brain immediately calls up your cognitive map of that journey and
it will consist of landmarks such as shops, buildings and monuments, the
identifying markers that lace the journey together. Knowing that you will walk
by Waitrose and the dragon statue in the middle of the road is a more concrete and
visual way of giving instruction and it’s certainly more reassuring, as the
markers are sought and mentally ticked as they are passed. But verbalising their map never occurs to most.
Worst of all
are those who ‘umm’ and ‘arr’ and misdirect rather than say they don’t know.
Of course it
works the other way around. Some will ask for directions and then tell you what
you’re going to say before you say it, or contradict what you say in the belief
that they know best even though they have no idea where they’re going. These
types are usually macho-blokes who (by their spouses’ admission) can’t take
instruction from women. One New Yorker actually said that to me when
apologising for her husband’s manner. And here I have to confess that I once
allowed a truly obnoxious bloke to go to South London to visit the British Museum
because he insisted, contrary to my directions and superior knowledge, that
that was where it was. And if you’re prepared to take the time to help others the
comedy comes thick and fast; like the American student who I found standing
with her back to Nelson’s column in Trafalgar Square, map in hand, who proceeded
to ask me where (I promise you) Nelson’s Column was.
On an average
day when I’m out and about I probably give directions to eight to ten people or
groups. Many of them comment on the clarity of the instructions I give them and
I suppose you might say that that is unsurprising given what I do. You might
also say that people who work in communications are obviously going to be
better at explaining stuff than those who don’t, but I don’t think that’s the
case. I’ve worked with ‘communicators’ who couldn’t describe what they ate for
breakfast let alone anything else.
Description
is an art based on science; the words and diagrams that enable, whether that’s the
completion of a safe and successful journey; the wiring of a plug; the baking
of a cake; or the injury and divorce-free laying of a new floor.
It’s
fundamental and that’s why it should be on the curriculum. Earlier this year,
in response to the perceived decline of oratory skills across the board, there
were also calls to introduce public speaking to the national curriculum as a
stand-alone subject. But both are already part of the same. In some
strata of the system they’re called ‘show and tell’, but for some reason that’s
considered be the province of the Infants and Juniors’ and that’s a bit mad really,
because one way or another we never stop doing either.
