Better listening is uncertain listening
Lack of imagination is a leading cause of death among surveys.
I was at the dermatologist yesterday.
The doctor asked, “What SPF do you use?”
“The one my wife buys.” (Har)
Her eyes never left the computer monitor. “15? 30? 50?”
I sighed. “30.”
Walking to my car, a voice spoke to me: You just lied to your doctor.
What was I supposed to do? I told her I didn’t know what kind of sunscreen I use. Sure, I didn’t say “I don’t know,” but I said it in my own way …
You don’t wear sunscreen! You lied!
She didn’t ask me if I wear sunscreen. She asked what kind of sunscreen I use.
That’s because only a fool with a death wish would go around dangling his tender, unprotected flesh before the hungry gaze of Apollo.
She clearly assumes — or her computer system assumes — that everyone wears sunscreen.
If you had said, “I don’t wear sunscreen,” her computer would have burst into flames …
Exactly. She was obviously trying to get through her routine checklist as quickly as possible.
… she would have looked over at you, her eyes widening behind her mask, as she slowly stepped backward. She reaches for a red phone on the counter that has no keypad …
Why am I going to volunteer information that will interfere with her routine and make me feel like she’s judging me?
… as soon as she lifts the receiver, a group of nurses rush in and hold you down on the table. One pours gasoline over you, while another begins reciting the ancient dermatological rites. Between your howls, you hear a match strike …
I started the car and drove back to the office for a client meeting.
We’re meeting to review a survey they’ve drafted. I tell them they should consider changing the first question from a yes/no response to multiple choice with three options:
Yes
No
I don’t know
I suggest they might even introduce some conditional logic, so that if someone chooses “I don’t know,” they’ll see an open field where they can say more. But the open question should be optional — they can leave it blank if they want to. This will give us a chance to learn if there’s some other way of thinking about the words we’re using and change the question later if we need to.
They feel that this is unnecessary, which I understand. The question does seem very simple. It’s hard to imagine anyone not understanding this question or not being able to respond with a simple yes/no.
I point out that people have remarkably different thinking styles — the most simple questions will often spark the most surprising, complex responses.
Besides, “I don’t know” can mean many things. It can mean:
I don’t know what you mean (because while all these words make sense, I’ve seen them used differently in different contexts, and this question doesn’t seem to account for that)
I don’t know right now (because I have a pounding headache and I can’t think straight)
I don’t want to answer this (because the cat pooped in my cornflakes this morning, and it’s left me in a bad mood)
This is not important to me (because I’m a busy person with better things to do)
I suffered trauma as a child when my parents subjected me to an endless battery of questionnaires in an effort to understand why I was the way I was (Hi, mom!)
It’s better to allow for uncertainty because otherwise, we risk collecting misleading information — data we can’t rely on. It would be helpful to provide an escape hatch for the respondent so they can continue on and hopefully provide useful responses to later questions.
We added an “I don’t know” option and continued to the next question.
Later, I wondered why we’re often reluctant to correct our assumptions when we’re trying to understand others.
Aside: I say ‘we’ because I’m the same way. In fact, it was hard for me to suggest adding the “I don’t know” option to the survey because I was afraid the client would think it was a dumb idea, which would make me a dumb person. And, of course, since my inner voice says that my ideas are the only things that justify my existence on earth (🙄), I would forfeit my right to continue living by suggesting that change to the survey question.
We project our own knowledge or point of view onto others. The doctor doesn’t start by asking, “Do you wear sunscreen?” presumably because they’re so well-acquainted with the risks of not wearing sunscreen that they assume others must act in ways similar to them. We struggle to imagine alternatives.
At other times, we’re afraid of looking dumb. (See above.) We think people responding are evaluating our questions in the same way we are — Gosh, why on earth would they offer an ‘I don’t know’ option … I mean, what living human doesn’t have a simple yes/no answer to this question?! Of course, in reality, no one responding to the survey is thinking about the survey design. At least, not until they run into a question where they can’t respond in a way that reflects their situation (e.g., if there is not an “I don’t know” option).
What’s the takeaway here? Don’t be like my dermatologist? Never let your cat near your cornflakes?
Today’s letter is another take on a common theme: How to become a better listener. Or, if we look at it more narrowly, today’s letter could be titled How to craft a better survey. But the path to a better survey isn’t using better software or following “best practices” — at least not in the usual sense.
Better surveys — better listening — is a result of an environment that is less hurried, less fearful, and allows us to imagine other ways of being — or at least accept there are other ways of being that we can’t imagine, and so we have to embrace uncertainty and design for the unimaginable.
Thanks for reading,
Kyle
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