One of the things I do as part of my real world life is media training – teaching people at tech companies how to improve their chances of giving their best possible performance every time they get in front of the media.
We cover a lot of ground in these sessions: how various the media work, what journalists look for, what makes a good story, differences between the structure of print and broadcast news stories, the important differences between news and feature coverage, what public relations is all about and how to use an agency…lots of good stuff.
I always try to use real examples and anecdotes to illustrate points in these sessions. Couple of days ago I used the story of the United Airlines seat safety card as an example to illustrate a point about poor, value-free communications. No one in the room had ever heard this story before, yet I’m sure that I’m neither the first nor the only person to have choked on this one. I checked around the office and no one else seemed familiar with this example either.
I still have a liberated United Airlines 737 safety card in my briefcase – back when I used to speak at conferences a lot, I’d often use it as an example of how the corporate communications office can get in the way of communications. Came in handy to get a laugh when the demo crashed onstage at Upside's Showcase a few years back (this particular ignominy still appears to be available online, thank you ZDbloodyNet - you can take it down now).
So anyway, here’s the scoop:
In fairly large print, at the top of the safety card (in seven languages, no less) is the legend:
“If you are sitting in an exit row and you cannot understand this card or cannot see well enough to follow these instructions, please tell a crew member.”
No, I’m not making this up.
As if this worse-than-useless drivel wasn’t bad enough, they hammer the stupidity home further down the page. You’re instructed to: “Please ask to be reseated if you: (amongst a list of other things) Do not understand the instructions in this brochure.”
OK, my head hurts already. But then the small print at the foot of the card tips over into insanity:
“Federal regulations require all passengers, regardless of where they are sitting or their physical condition, to review this card, for the safety.”
Er…so let me get this straight: if I can’t understand the card, I have to alert the crew. But I can’t understand the card. So I wouldn’t know that. And either way – whether I know to tell the crew or not, I’m still going to be in breach of federal regulations anyway. Because I can’t read the card. But I can’t tell you that. ’Cus I don’t know I’m supposed to. Which means I’m breaking the law.
Shoot me now, officer.
Of course, someone will no doubt point out that removing the card from the ’plane was also an offence. Sosueme. Could be worse. I could be a sad safety card collector.
We cover a lot of ground in these sessions: how various the media work, what journalists look for, what makes a good story, differences between the structure of print and broadcast news stories, the important differences between news and feature coverage, what public relations is all about and how to use an agency…lots of good stuff.
I always try to use real examples and anecdotes to illustrate points in these sessions. Couple of days ago I used the story of the United Airlines seat safety card as an example to illustrate a point about poor, value-free communications. No one in the room had ever heard this story before, yet I’m sure that I’m neither the first nor the only person to have choked on this one. I checked around the office and no one else seemed familiar with this example either.
I still have a liberated United Airlines 737 safety card in my briefcase – back when I used to speak at conferences a lot, I’d often use it as an example of how the corporate communications office can get in the way of communications. Came in handy to get a laugh when the demo crashed onstage at Upside's Showcase a few years back (this particular ignominy still appears to be available online, thank you ZDbloodyNet - you can take it down now).
So anyway, here’s the scoop:
In fairly large print, at the top of the safety card (in seven languages, no less) is the legend:
“If you are sitting in an exit row and you cannot understand this card or cannot see well enough to follow these instructions, please tell a crew member.”
No, I’m not making this up.
As if this worse-than-useless drivel wasn’t bad enough, they hammer the stupidity home further down the page. You’re instructed to: “Please ask to be reseated if you: (amongst a list of other things) Do not understand the instructions in this brochure.”
OK, my head hurts already. But then the small print at the foot of the card tips over into insanity:
“Federal regulations require all passengers, regardless of where they are sitting or their physical condition, to review this card, for the safety.”
Er…so let me get this straight: if I can’t understand the card, I have to alert the crew. But I can’t understand the card. So I wouldn’t know that. And either way – whether I know to tell the crew or not, I’m still going to be in breach of federal regulations anyway. Because I can’t read the card. But I can’t tell you that. ’Cus I don’t know I’m supposed to. Which means I’m breaking the law.
Shoot me now, officer.
Of course, someone will no doubt point out that removing the card from the ’plane was also an offence. Sosueme. Could be worse. I could be a sad safety card collector.
